Chapter 90: When the Flower of Sin Blooms (Three)
However, I could scarcely recognize whether that was a human corpse or not.
It looked like a big lump of rotten meat, plastered onto the cold stone wall, flattened by some enormous force—red-black and nauseating, dry and decayed, mixed with a few body parts I could identify, like eyeballs, arms, hair, and so on. It clung to the walls of the cell’s corner, extending from the floor to the ceiling, everywhere, exuding a bizarre smell that was downright suffocating.
I felt goosebumps rise all over me.
My feet unconsciously quickened their pace, brows furrowing deeply, my left hand pinched tight over my nose, fighting back the urge to toss my cookies—yet it was almost a physiological reaction. Within two seconds, I turned my head aside and heaved.
“Ugh—”
Nothing came out.
One hand braced against the wall, feeling my stomach churning up a storm, and after a moment, I finally managed to lift my head, seeing that Sword Demon Miss had unknowingly walked back to my side. She bent down to look at me, her expression blank, but with a hint of confusion, probably wondering why I was acting so pathetic. Still, she reached out and gently patted my back.
“When I was very little, I was like this too.”
She comforted, racking her brain to find the right words. “I think I was two… the first time I saw a dead person… I was disgusted and scared too, so… I threw up quite a bit.”
“…Shut up.”
Two years old?
d*mn it, Dad…
You’re looking down on me, aren’t you?
I pushed her hand away. “I’m just a bit uncomfortable… and you’ve got something gross on your hand, don’t touch me just like that.”
As soon as I said it, I suddenly remembered that my own hands weren’t exactly clean either. That sticky feeling seemed to linger in my palms, sending a chill down my spine. Quickly, I rubbed my unlit torch hand against her and wiped off the grime on my cloak, then, almost by instinct… brought my palm up to my nose and sniffed.
“Ew—”
That weird, pungent smell made me heave once more.
Where… is there a place to wash my hands…
This thought flashed through my mind, and I stopped paying attention to the frozen Sword Demon Miss, no longer glancing at the bizarre, blooming corpses, holding my torch, and continued forward along the stone wall.
Fourth door… fifth door… sixth door… Many barred doors passed by me slowly with each step. I quickened my pace, no longer stopping, but with each cell I passed, I could catch a glimpse of the tragic scenes within thanks to the torchlight.
Without exception, almost every prison cell held at least one corpse; some had two. Those corpses were either struggling, curling up, or had long lost their human form, displaying bizarre, chilling poses that revealed their last desperate will to survive before d*ath, or their lifeless, hopeless mood.
In some cells, there were also what seemed to be laboratory tools that hadn’t been cleared away.
Rusty iron handcarts, gleaming dishes under the firelight, tweezers, IV syringes, bone saws, bl**d-soaked bandages, jars filled with orange-yellow liquid that looked like pee, and so on.
Those instruments flashed before my eyes, as if I had personally experienced them, everything so vivid.
No…
It wasn’t “as if.”
Those things were all part of my past.
Used on me.
I could remember.
Though many memories now felt vague, like dreams when recalled, I remembered—I could recall so many things they had done to me.
I had the same nightmare as those who died here, “patients,” and what they had encountered.
I had initially planned to stroll around the garden, then climb the stairs to the second floor to see what was behind those unclosed iron doors, to search for something new—this was my intention. However, halfway through, for some reason, I suddenly felt the urge to vomit again.
“Ugh… bleh…”
I stumbled over to a nearby flowerbed, bent down, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. I nearly emptied my stomach—those last few pieces of venison I had eaten in the afternoon went to waste.
After throwing up, my first thought was…
What a waste…
Even I found it unbelievable.
It wasn’t that I found the corpses disgusting or that the odors here were too foul—I knew that wasn’t the reason.
Just moments ago, I had been recalling images etched deep in my memory, scenes I could never forget.
The High Tower cellar of Cataloma Orphanage, countless dead or decapitated orphans, the Teresa Monster turning innumerable citizens into meat chunks, showering bl**d like rain up into the skies…
The brutally bloody scenes were shocking, and now, a year or two later, I had seen vicious battlefields, malicious natural disasters, and the cruelest, heartless people in this world, who showed no mercy, treating innocent civilians like cattle, inflicting irrevocable harm…
I had witnessed enough hell on earth.
Coming back from the abyss, I had become perhaps an unprecedentedly powerful person. I had a calm heart, thinking I had already adapted to all this.
Yet, those weird dead bodies outside earlier, those contorted cadavers, that rancid wind hadn’t struck me with much psychological impact…
But right here, in this tiny renovated church inside the Silent Fortress, the few corpses of victims suddenly gave me an indescribable spiritual jolt.
“Cough, cough… ugh…”
I was so upset that I couldn’t even speak, my eyes watering from my own saliva choking me.
Turns out…
I hadn’t completely lost my ability to empathize.
It came faster than I could imagine, suffocatingly quick…
Thud, thud, thud.
Someone approached silently and gently patted my back.
I wiped my mouth and turned my head, seeing Sword Demon Miss’s face.
“It’s fine… I’m fine… cough, cough… cough!”
It was just too much…
d*mn it…
I had never hated my saliva more than at this moment; it made me tear up, which felt embarrassing and ugly.
Yet, Sword Demon Miss didn’t say a word.
She just kept gently patting my back, and when my red eyes looked at her, she quickly shifted her gaze away, not meeting my eyes.
Strange…
Why?
We’ve only known each other for a short time…
I almost killed her…
We’re clearly still enemies…
Just a prisoner, that’s all.
If I wanted, I could k*ll her right away… She knows that… she must not want to be near me… scheming to escape… that’s what she’s really thinking…
What kind of nonsense is this?
“Cough, cough… hand…”
I pushed her hand away again. “I told you… cough, cough, don’t touch me with your hands.”
My breath gradually stabilized.
“So dirty, ugh, ugh, ugh…”
I feigned fierceness, shot her a glare, and quickly turned away, discreetly wiping away the tears that had escaped from my coughing fit, spat out the remnants in my mouth, and wiped my lips with my sleeve, sulking like a petulant child—even if I didn’t really feel that way—hastily stepping away from Sword Demon Miss, moving rapidly toward the back of the garden.
“Did you find anything when you checked those corpses?”
I tried to make my voice sound calm and indifferent, not looking back at her, forcing myself to change the subject.
