Chapter 179: Chapter 179

"Is that all? Oh, I mean, isn't the way this is being handled a bit..."

Before Jenkins could find the right word, the man chuckled.

"Mr. Williams, I understand. You think we're being careless, don't you? The Orthodox Church is quite merciful. As long as he isn't causing any real trouble—just collecting some rather esoteric knowledge—we can tolerate it. Besides, there are members of the Orthodox Church present at those gatherings. We're fully aware of everything that goes on."

Jenkins had long been aware of the Orthodox Church's strange attitude toward followers of pseudo-gods, but he never expected them to be so nonchalant, even when the person in question was a level 8 Benefactor.

In Jenkins's view, handling it this way was no different from not handling it at all. But he didn't voice his opinion. After all, the relationship between the Righteous Gods and the pseudo-gods was an extremely sensitive topic.

"So, should I still attend the gathering?"

He asked again, as this concerned him directly.

"That is for you to decide, Mr. Williams. Of course, if you're willing to provide the Church with reports on the actions and words of that level 8 Benefactor at each meeting, we could offer you an additional fee for the information..."

After dropping a few silver coins into the donation box, Jenkins followed Pops out the main entrance of the church.

Pops asked, shaking out his coat before Jenkins could speak.

"You'll understand sooner or later. For now, you're still too young."

"Right, right, I'm the young one."

Jenkins nodded with resignation and followed him around the corner. Seeing that no one was around, he asked again in a low voice, "But he's level 8. Isn't that a bit too reckless..."

"It's precisely because he's a level 8 Benefactor that we don't need to be cautious."

Pops's tone was strange, but he didn't look back at him. Instead, he feigned interest in a three-story white building at the intersection ahead. On the second-floor balcony, a man in a red-and-yellow striped hat was looking at the sky, holding a black pipe. Jenkins remembered that it was some kind of club, with an even higher annual fee than the Oil Ink Mister Club.

Pops clearly had no intention of explaining further. Jenkins rubbed his nose, feeling that this world was getting stranger and stranger.

He then remembered what he'd heard from the coachman that morning about Robert Coombe, the man injured in the street murder, and decided to ask Pops about it.

Pops didn't know about it yet, so he summoned a little boy in a patched tunic from somewhere, handed him a one-pound note and a letter, and, of course, paid him an extra ten pence for the delivery.

The little boy was clearly an old acquaintance of Pops; a single glance at the name on the envelope told him the destination. Jenkins recalled from the incident on the stormy night that Pops was familiar with quite a few people on the street, and he figured the boy must be one of them.

That evening, the boy brought back a reply. Pops understood the situation after a quick look.

"The police officer on guard never left the ward's door last night, but when they opened it this morning, the man was gone. The doctor on duty also confirmed that after the hospital was closed for the night, no one entered or left. The main gate was locked."

Hospitals in this era didn't have a practice of staying open twenty-four hours a day. The inpatient buildings were completely locked at night and wouldn't be opened unless there was an emergency, like a fire.

"Did he leave through the window? I went to the hospital yesterday after asking you to write to Chief Blake. He was on the third floor."

Jenkins asked in astonishment.

"Indeed. An ordinary person couldn't have jumped from the window, but if he's not ordinary, that's another story."

Pops understood what that implied. "Well then," he said, "I happen to be going to the church again tonight. I'll report this then."

"Do you think this could be related to the followers of the evil god, the 'Prince of Lies'?"

Jenkins asked again. Not all swindlers were followers of this evil god, but all followers of this evil god were swindlers. That was something every common person knew.

"We can't make assumptions without evidence, but we'll definitely investigate that angle. I recall the information you provided earlier also mentioned something related to this evil god. The two might be connected. As I remember, our church doesn't have a presence in Aediran. We might have to find another way..."

Because he was very interested in the Augustus family, Jenkins asked Pops if he knew anything more about them. The verifiable information on the family began with the founding of the kingdom; before that, Augustus was a commoner's surname.

That was all there was. Unlike the ancient and infamous demon-summoning Ashiash family, the Augustus family was quite ordinary. The history of the Ashiash family, however, could be traced back to the previous epoch, and only descendants who accepted and practiced demon summoning were considered core members.

The family was supposedly wiped out by the Church of Sun and Justice around the year 1666 of the Universal Calendar. Yet, to this day, rumors persist that descendants of the Ashiash family still exist. The matter of the demon's appearance in Nolan City has drawn the Church's serious attention, so it was inevitable that they would come to mind. Google seaʀᴄh novel-fire.net

When Jenkins left that evening, Pops also closed up the shop and went to the church. Jenkins walked down the street, holding Chocolate and thinking about the Gem Assembly.

Perhaps his luck really was terrible, to have run into such trouble just by rubbing a lid a few times. Maybe he needed to be more cautious in the future and avoid all unnecessary social activities.

Just as he reached St. George Street, he saw a carriage parked in front of his house. A red-haired young woman leaned out of the carriage, smiling and waving at him. Meanwhile, Mrs. Mahat, the middle-aged maid he had hired, stood to one side with a grocery basket, looking ill at ease.

Jenkins nodded to Hathaway, first putting Chocolate down to let it run into the house, then opening the gate to let Mrs. Mahat go in and tidy up the kitchen.

Chocolate agilely leaped down from the fence, ran a few steps toward the house, then flicked its tail, meowed, and turned around. It slipped back out through the space under the fence and darted into the carriage.

It was the time of day when neighbors were coming and going from work. As a single man, Jenkins couldn't possibly invite a young lady into his home; it wouldn't do for the neighbors to see. He had his reputation to consider—at least, that's what he told himself. He had intended to talk with his friend in the carriage anyway, and now that Chocolate had darted inside, he had all the more reason to join her.