Leon had already thought it through seriously.
The person was already dead—panicking was useless.
Running away now would not reduce their risk.
The only option was to observe the situation and adapt as needed.
They had long since reached the point where the Church could sentence them to death.
Now that he had killed the Director of the Inquisition as well, he himself had beco an existence no different from Rena—an outright heretic.
Frankly speaking, considering the weight of their cris, whether they continued this business or went on to kill a bishop made little difference.
They had already stepped onto a tightrope with no way back.
For the rest of their lives, they would live under the Church’s shadow of death.
But no matter what, he still needed money.
Since things had already co to this, he might as well go all the way—earn enough money that he would never be able to spend it all in a lifeti!
In fact, when he killed Caron, Leon had not felt fear of the consequences at all.
Instead, he felt an inexplicable thrill—one that could even be called a sense of accomplishnt.
As soone blessed by the God of War, Caron’s strength was undoubtedly far beyond that of ordinary people.
He held a lofty position in the Hal Inquisition and was arrogantly untouchable.
Soone of Leon’s status barely even had the chance to exchange words with him.
Yet such a person had ultimately died by Leon’s hand.
The victor beca king, the loser a bandit.
When Caron had collapsed onto the ground, on the brink of death, only able to lift his head and look up at him, at least at that mont, Leon stood above him.
Even now, Leon was still savoring in his heart that addictive sensation.
Rena looked back at Leon in confusion.
The calm he displayed did not put her at ease.
She suddenly felt that she could no longer quite see through this man.
After thinking for a mont, she suddenly realized another issue.
“But how exactly were we discovered this ti? What did you an earlier when you said soone sold you out?”
Leon fell silent for a while, then told Rena the truth.
“Our buyer originally helped Director Caron dispose of stolen goods. He privately reached a purchase agreent with . I think Caron must have tracked him down first. That person then gave
up, and Caron followed the trail all the way here. Since Caron wanted to control our business, I suspect he would most likely have kept that man alive.”
Realizing that Caron had not intended to destroy this business chain, it was only natural for the shop owner to defect to him.
That guy was probably still waiting at the old junk shop, expecting Caron to resolve the problem and deliver the goods.
“He sold us out, and you still want to continue doing business with him?” Rena found it a bit incomprehensible.
“I’ll find another channel. As for that person, I’ll handle him myself,” Leon replied flatly.
In fact, he had already more or less figured out what to do next.
Seeing the coldness in Leon’s eyes when he ntioned that person, Rena imdiately understood the aning of this “handling.”
But even she herself was surprised to find that her heart felt little disturbance over it.
When they had “handled” Hannah Weisland, she had already dirtied her hands together with Leon.
And this ti, even the Director of the Inquisition had died inside their labyrinth.
By comparison, Leon going to deal with a re buyer no longer seed all that shocking to her.
Not to ntion any thoughts of opposition—this buyer’s betrayal had put them in such grave danger that he remained a risk.
Now she actually hoped Leon would handle it more thoroughly.
Leon was already able to speak lightly of arranging a killing.
Undoubtedly, so change had long since occurred within him.
Yet without realizing it, Rena herself had also gradually been influenced by this man, stained with the sa color as him.
Forget seeing through Leon—she was starting to barely recognize herself.
In the end, Rena could only remain silent, neither agreeing nor objecting.
After a while, she picked up the lantern and walked deeper into the workshop, beginning to recover the corpse of the Head-Hunting Rabbit.
Leon also started searching around for tools.
For now, they still had to clean up the scene first.
At that mont, a series of squeaking sounds nearby suddenly caught his attention.
He followed the sound and saw a small iron cage that had rolled onto the ground not far away, cramd with several laboratory mice.
During his fight with Caron, he had overturned the workbench, and this cage had rolled onto the floor.
The mice inside were unhard.
Leon suddenly rembered that he had intended to test the newly obtained blessing.
He looked around and retrieved his dagger from the ground.
Then he picked up the cage containing the mice and returned to a ventilated area near the workshop entrance.
He removed one glove, used the dagger to cut his palm, and red blood overflowed from the wound.
Next, with the hand that still wore a glove, he opened the small hatch at the top of the cage and reached inside, grabbing one struggling mouse.
After examining it, he tried squeezing blood from his palm and drizzling it over the mouse.
The mouse writhed in terror in his fist, but nothing happened.
Leon focused his thoughts and once again attempted that sensation of mana circulation, while imagining his blood turning that purplish-red color again.
The red blood imdiately began to change color—both the blood seeping from his wound and the blood that had already dripped onto the mouse.
At the sa ti, the blood that had fallen onto the mouse began to hiss, turning into purple smoke that enveloped it.
Rena, who had been tidying up, looked over in surprise.
The mouse in Leon’s hand suddenly began screaming wildly as if electrocuted, struggling desperately to escape his grasp.
Not only the mouse being used for the experint—even the mice in the nearby cages beca restless and started scurrying around the instant Leon turned his blood purplish-red.
Leon had to tighten his grip to keep the mouse from escaping.
But after only a few seconds, the mouse’s struggling weakened.
Through the glove, Leon felt its body rapidly beco stiff—hard as stone.
Leon narrowed his eyes as he watched the mouse gradually petrify.
These symptoms were very similar to being poisoned by a Cockatrice.
Blood with toxic properties—was this his blessing?
Was it already dead?
Leon weighed the mouse in his hand, which was basically lifeless now, and on a whim tried shifting his thoughts, turning his blood back to its normal state.
The mouse in his palm suddenly twitched.
Leon released his grip in surprise to observe it.
The mouse gradually softened again from its rigid state, began to wake up, and writhed in his palm—though it was clearly far weaker than before.
The symptoms caused by this “poisonous blood” could be reversed at his will!
Thinking of this, he tried switching the blood back and forth once more.
The mouse petrified again, then once more returned to normal, but beca even weaker than just before.
The experintal results proved that Leon could control the petrification effect caused by his blood through sheer will.
However, even if the petrification was lifted, so kind of damage still accumulated, leaving the affected creature weakened.
This was different from Cockatrice venom.
His blood was closer to the concept of magic—or a curse.
He could use blood as a dium to impose a dangerous curse upon living beings!
For the third ti, Leon circulated his mana and transford his blood into that purplish-red color.
This ti, after the mouse petrified, he did not lift it quickly.
Instead, he waited and observed, wanting to see what kind of ultimate effect this blood could produce.
The mouse turned into a rigid stone-like object in his hand.
Before long, its entire body beca a bleak grayish-white.
Leon maintained this state and continued observing for quite so ti.
After about five minutes, transparent crystals began to precipitate from the mouse’s back.
At this mont, both Leon and Rena widened their eyes.
Leon subconsciously turned his head, and the two stared at each other.
These symptoms were unmistakably similar to Saltification Disease!
If so, then Saltification Disease really did seem, just as commonly believed, to be a curse cast down by Moilai.
After crystals precipitated from its joints, the mouse stopped changing.
Leon tried to lift the curse again, but the mouse did not return to its original state.
It died in that posture—the reversal of the curse was clearly limited.
Without a word, Leon tossed the mouse, now like a chunk of ore, into a small bucket at his feet.
The mont the corpse landed inside, it shattered apart like a plaster sculpture.
Both blessed by Moilai, Rena, who possessed the blessing of “Blood Pact,” could use blood as a dium to control more magical beasts, while he could use blood to curse and kill living beings.
Leon could not help but wonder—if the Primordial Witch Moilai granting him this blessing contained so kind of intent, then was Moilai hoping that he would… keep killing people?
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