"It’s already six in the morning..."
Annan stared at the sky outside and fell into deep thought.
He hadn’t pulled an all-nighter in a very long ti, let alone the kind that involved not sleeping at all.
It wasn’t good for one’s health.
Moreover, Annan realized sothing rather critical at this mont.
—That was, he couldn’t feel any fatigue at all now.
Although he had stayed up watching the live broadcast all night without sleeping, he still felt fine. He wasn’t sleepy, nor did he experience the abnormal excitent that cos after staying up, as if he had slept and woken up as usual.
This was actually quite dangerous.
Because it ant that Annan’s body was no longer warning him.
Could this be the legendary "cultivating immortality is detrintal to one’s health... so it’s better not to sleep at all"?
"I’ll wait for Salvatore later," he decided.
He sighed, got dressed, and started doing so stretching exercises to ease the stiffness from spending the night in bed.
The Viscount’s bed was indeed very comfortable.
But after lying there all night, he still felt a bit uncomfortable.
It was only six in the morning now, and Salvatore had only gone to bed three hours ago.
Knowing that this poor senior could only sleep six hours a day, it would’ve been too inhumane of Annan to disturb his rest...
And this wasn’t even his usual residence, and after 3 a.m., it wasn’t certain that he could fall asleep imdiately.
—All this was just to ensure that the precious golden goose didn’t die of sudden death at a young age.
Annan convinced himself with this thought.
Fortunately, his "moral sense" and "common sense" were still functioning normally.
Otherwise, given his mischievous nature, he might not be able to control himself and end up doing sothing immoral for his own pleasure...
"...Maybe I’ll start with breakfast instead."
After finishing a twenty-minute stretching session, Annan exhaled.
The senior couldn’t get up till nine.
Before he could even leave,
Soone knocked on the door of the Viscount manor.
...Who?
"It’s only six-thirty in the morning."
Annan frowned slightly and opened the door.
Standing there with a smile was a kind-looking, round-faced, bald Priest with a fat ear-lobe.
Seeing Annan open the door himself, the Priest imdiately flashed a row of shiny gold teeth with a sowhat exaggerated gesture, pulled out his pocket watch, and gave a bow, "Good morning, our just and righteous Lord, may the Silver Baron’s love be with you today.
"I’m so glad to see that it’s you who opened the door."
...Ah, it’s Bishop Daryl.
Annan suddenly realized.
Pfft, no... I an, Bishop Daryl.
He hadn’t forgotten that round, big gold-toothed face.
This person seed to be very sagely, as if he knew many things.
Especially since he first claid to know the Geraint family’s old master and was acquainted with the current head of the house. But he didn’t realize that Annan was not Tan Juan Geraint...
Or perhaps, he did realize but chose not to say it openly.
Because in the end, he advised Annan, "This is not your hate to bear; it doesn’t belong to either side."
Annan knew he was right.
Gerald and Viscount Barber were both targeting "Tan Juan Geraint," not "Annan Winter."
And indeed, that was the case.
After he revealed his true identity, they both temporarily suspended their hostility toward him.
"Salutations to the silver coin... Grandfather Daryl."
Annan hesitated for a mont but chose a more intimate address and returned the Priest’s gesture.
"Do you have business with ?" he asked politely.
Annan’s tone was gentle and humble, yet he spoke clearly without a hint of cowardice or hesitation: "If there’s any way I can help, please feel free to tell ."
"Oh no no no... there’s certainly no need to trouble you, my dear little Viscount,"
replied Bishop Daryl with a cheerful smile: "I’ve just co to give you a heads up and to ask you... how do you plan to make the announcent to them today?"
This "them," the bald, chubby Priest didn’t specify.
But Annan understood perfectly.
He was referring to the group of people who’d been bewitched and controlled by the Viscount.
It was only natural for Bishop Daryl, as Roth Fort’s spokesman on behalf of the Silver Baron’s side, to communicate with Annan beforehand.
He and Annan were the supre rulers of Roth Fort and even the entire Beihai territory. If the two of them expressed contradicting views in public, it would be tantamount to declaring to the world that "Roth Fort’s rule is unstable," which could easily encourage dissenting factions below, prompting all sorts of rabble-rousers to erge.
But Annan felt...
That Bishop Daryl had not co solely for this particular matter.
Annan remained silent for a while before speaking:
"I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to?"
He was indirectly inquiring from Bishop Daryl—how are you planning to handle this?
Bishop Daryl, still smiling, said, "Of course, it’s about the unfortunate incident of our Lord Viscount being attacked and killed by heretics."
...Is that acceptable?
Annan was sowhat surprised.
Without a doubt,
this was Bishop Daryl choosing a thod of handling the situation that was more favorable to Annan.
It was tantamount to him—and the entire church of the Silver Baron—endorsing Annan’s rule.
"...Do I need to do anything?"
Annan asked tentatively.
Seeing this, Bishop Daryl couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
"It’s good to talk with a smart person,"
he said with a smile, "You resemble your grandfather in so ways."
...Whose grandfather? Could you be more specific?
Annan grumbled to himself.
But he couldn’t speak out directly, so he just nodded humbly, issuing a cool and youthful voice, "Thank you for the complint."
The bishop just gave a aningful smile and said nothing more.
"By the way, Grandfather Daryl,"
Annan suddenly asked, "Do you know about that... at the beginning of every nightmare?"
As clergy, the vanguard in purifying nightmares, they should understand them better than ordinary Transcendents.
Sure enough, Bishop Daryl thought for a mont and then realized what Annan was talking about, "You an that whisper?"
"Yes."
Annan nodded.
Bishop Daryl said cheerfully, "Ah, that, we usually refer to it as a ’Proverb.’ If we talk about the principles and exceptions, it’s quite complicated... On a practical level, you just need to know that, in most cases, the ’Proverb’ won’t deceive you.
"It will always reveal the most central rule of each nightmare. But rember not to be misled. After all, the proverb is only one sentence long—it’s very normal to misunderstand it.
"...It’s like a prophecy."
He said this and let out a soft sigh at the end.
Annan keenly sensed sothing. But with so little to go on, he couldn’t confirm anything.
Bishop Daryl, as if thinking of sothing, asked Annan, "Do you want to ask what kind of nightmare Gerald incubated?"
"If you could tell , that would be most helpful,"
Annan said earnestly as he nodded.
Looking into Annan’s ice-blue pupils, Bishop Daryl was montarily lost in thought.
Seeing this, Annan beca pensive.
The Lord Viscount was silent for a mont, then suddenly resud his harmless, cheery deanor, "No problem, I have already completed a purification... The nightmare is a bit difficult, but it is completely within your capabilities to handle.
"Do you want the key?"
"...If you are willing to provide it,"
Annan nodded.
He ntally noted down "key" as a piece of professional jargon.
Bishop Daryl, as if prepared, pulled out from his waist a hard object wrapped in layers of cloth.
Reaching out to touch it, Annan quickly realized it seed to be a piece of bone.
"If it touches skin for more than thirteen seconds, you can enter the nightmare,"
Bishop Daryl said with a serious look, "Although it’s not too difficult for you, if possible, it’s better to enter after the early hours of the morning."
"—Wait a mont, Grandfather Daryl,"
Annan suddenly spoke up, "If I enter the nightmare now... Could you wake up in three hours?
"There aren’t many people here I can trust. Those I can fully trust likely number only Salvatore and yourself."
Upon hearing this, Bishop Daryl was slightly taken aback.
He, of course, knew what it ant...
After Annan entered the nightmare, his body left outside would be utterly defenseless. If, during this ti, Bishop Daryl chose to kidnap or kill him outright, Annan could not resist.
This doubtlessly was a high-stakes gamble.
Risking one’s own life on another’s trust.
...But what exactly was Annan gambling on?
Bishop Daryl hesitated.
"...I wouldn’t recomnd that, it would be too risky for you,"
he admonished Annan for the first ti, with unusual severity, "When entering a nightmare, you should even avoid letting others know, let alone having soone watch over your body, especially those you can’t trust... It’s like exposing your own weaknesses to them."
"—So, can I trust you?"
Annan asked, his gaze pure and clear, looking directly at Bishop Daryl, "Will you wake up?"
Gazing into his ice-blue eyes, Bishop Daryl faltered again.
He was silent for a while and then sighed resignedly.
"Then go to sleep... I’ll wake you up in three hours."
He walked through the door, then closed and locked it behind him.
...Just as expected.
Annan roughly understood sothing and completely let go of his worries.
Though many tis his actions seed like those of a reckless gambler at the table.
In reality, he had been cheating in secret.
—Although Annan had asked Bishop Daryl such a question, it wasn’t to say Annan completely trusted him.
Although with the bishop’s strength, if he really ant Annan harm, Annan would stand no chance of fighting back.
But if the bishop’s reaction showed the slightest bit of malice, Annan would imdiately reply, "Ah, I was just joking." This wouldn’t deduct too much from his impression score, and it would also test the bishop’s bottom line regarding Annan.
It wasn’t a gamble, but a feint. It turned out to be a real move only because he unexpectedly discovered that the opponent had no defense.
But now, Annan had inadvertently discovered sothing else.
He beca more convinced.
Bishop Daryl indeed recognized Annan.
And he probably also knew soone from Annan’s family, and was quite close to them...
"Once you enter this nightmare," Bishop Daryl suddenly added, "if you see soone you know... don’t be too nervous, and don’t hesitate too much either.
"Always rember, these are rely shadows of history. You can’t change anything, and they are but illusions—kill if you must, be ruthless, and don’t trust those you shouldn’t."
...Wait, what does that an?
Annan was suddenly startled.
Listening to the bald man’s implication.
Could it be that Gerald’s nightmare, his deepest obsession and resentnt, wasn’t the event where Annan and Salvatore turned on him and killed him?
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