Where Is This Month's Tribute?

【Paper Rank Commission】

【Client: The old nun at the abandoned church on the edge of Blackcreek Town (living alone)】

【Content: An old holy crest used for prayer was snatched by thugs from the slums. The crest is not valuable, but it holds sentimental value. The client hopes someone will help retrieve it.】

【Risk: Requires negotiation or combat with thugs from the slums. Their numbers are uncertain, and they may have violent tendencies.】

【Reward: 2 silver coins (Meager, negotiable)】

【Special Note: This commission has been taken before; the previous adventurer gave up after being injured. Proceed according to your abilities.】

Bai Xuan had never taken a Paper Rank commission before.

The reward was pitifully low, so it was no wonder no one was willing to take it.

Powerful adventurers wouldn't look twice at such a small amount of money, while those without strength feared getting into a fight with thugs. If the opponent had numbers on their side, the adventurer would likely end up at a disadvantage.

But for Bai Xuan, this task held a different kind of value.

First, the old nun at the abandoned church was someone on the fringes of town. Such people often knew secrets or old town history that others didn't. He might be able to get some useful clues from her.

Second, the slums were a melting pot of all sorts of people. Thugs wandered the streets all day and might have seen traces of Carson.

Most importantly, a small, neglected task like this was highly unlikely to alert the Information House. It suited his current need to keep a low profile within the town.

Bai Xuan took the commission slip and walked to the front desk.

Jiwa glanced at the slip and couldn't help but freeze for a moment. She looked up at him, her tone tinged with surprise.

“You want to take this task?”

Bai Xuan asked calmly, “Is there a problem?”

“It’s not that there’s a problem,” Jiwa explained quickly. “This task has been posted for a long time. Those thugs in the slums are particularly difficult to deal with.”

“An adventurer took it before, but they were beaten up and thrown out. After that, no one dared to take it. Besides, the reward is so low that it’s really not worth your effort.”

Bai Xuan nodded slightly. “I’ll give it a try.”

Seeing his mind was made up, Jiwa stopped trying to persuade him. She quickly finished the registration and handed the commission slip back to him, not forgetting to add, “Please be careful.”

As Bai Xuan stowed the slip, a question came to mind.

He spoke up, asking, “How can a nun of the Church be bullied by slum thugs? Don’t those thugs fear retaliation from the Church?”

A flash of hesitation appeared on Jiwa’s face upon hearing this.

After a moment of consideration, she said, “I can’t tell you the details, but you should know that the church has long been dilapidated and abandoned. It’s a place forgotten after a shift in power, so naturally, no one maintains it anymore.”

Bai Xuan understood. It seemed the shift and failure of the Church’s influence in Blackcreek Town had led to the church and the old nun falling into this state.

He asked no more and slowly walked out of the Adventurer’s Guild.

By now, the sun was setting outside, casting a golden glow over all of Blackcreek Town.

Bai Xuan stood at the guild entrance, glancing toward the Inner Wall before turning his gaze toward the slums, his expression unreadable.

The wanted man, Carson, was currently hiding in some corner of the town, while the Cross family’s men were searching everywhere for him.

Bai Xuan had a faint feeling that these two seemingly unrelated matters might, at some unexpected moment, accidentally collide.

...

In the small room behind the Information House, Peter sat at his desk organizing intelligence.

Several handwritten records were spread out before him. He flipped through them carefully, marking and highlighting as he went.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock at the door. Before Peter could respond, it was pushed open, and a subordinate hurried in. The man looked flustered, his face clearly showing something was wrong.

“Boss, that Healer is back,” the subordinate whispered, a hint of panic in his voice.

Peter froze. He instinctively put down his pen and looked up at his subordinate, his tone surprised. “He’s back?”

The subordinate nodded quickly. “He just entered the town and is heading toward the Adventurer’s Guild. I saw him from a distance. There isn’t a single trace of combat on him; his clothes are clean, and he doesn’t look injured at all.”

Peter said nothing. He stared intently at the oil lamp on the desk. The flame flickered slightly, reflecting the darkening clouds in his eyes as the fog of doubt in his heart grew thicker.

What about the four men he sent out?

He had personally selected those four—two Level 4s and two Level 3s. They should have been more than enough to deal with a seemingly ordinary Healer.

Even if the Healer had some tricks up his sleeve, it shouldn't have resulted in the total annihilation of all four. At the very least, someone should have escaped to report back.

Unless...

“He has someone backing him,” Peter murmured to himself, his tone certain yet tinged with a trace of doubt.

The subordinate stood to the side, not daring to make a sound or interject. He just kept his head down, quietly waiting for orders.

Peter stood up and paced twice in the cramped room, his fingertips lightly rubbing his palm as his thoughts churned rapidly.

If that Healer really had helpers outside, and they could silently eliminate all four of the men he sent, then the strength of those helpers was at least at the Practitioner Rank or even higher.

Now, this was interesting.

What kind of person was backing a seemingly ordinary Healer who had been in town for less than a month?

He stopped pacing and turned to his subordinate, his tone darkening. “Is there any word on those four?”

The subordinate shook his head slowly, his tone hesitant. “No. Not a single one has returned, and no messages have come back either.”

Peter remained silent for a few seconds, the coldness in his eyes deepening. No news was the worst news of all.

He sat back down at his desk, quickly calculating his next move.

The situation had changed completely. He could no longer afford to act as rashly as before.

“From now on, stop having people follow him,” Peter said to his subordinate, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The subordinate was visibly stunned. He looked up, confused. “Stop following him? But we haven't figured out his background yet...”

“He noticed you a long time ago,” Peter said, glancing at him coldly with a hint of impatience.

“He was well aware of your amateurish tracking attempts. Continuing to follow him will only alert the enemy further and do more harm than good.”

The subordinate’s face flushed red. He quickly lowered his head, not daring to say another word.

“Just have the guards at the gates pay more attention,” Peter continued, his tone softening slightly but remaining cautious. “Note down the times he enters and leaves the town.”

“As for where he goes in town, just have the lookouts on the streets keep a casual eye out. No need to stare. Compile his activity patterns and report them to me.”

The subordinate quickly nodded. “Yes, Boss.”

After a moment of hesitation, the subordinate couldn't help but ask, “Then... should we take the opportunity to eliminate him while he’s in town?”

Peter was silent for a while, his fingertips lightly tapping the desk as his expression grew more solemn.

“We don’t move yet,” he said slowly, his tone firm. “It would be hard to explain to the Adventurer’s Guild if we act in town without cause.”

“And since he has helpers, there’s no telling if they are lurking nearby. Acting rashly will only invite trouble.”

He paused, then added with a heavy gaze, “This man is not ordinary. His background is unclear, so we can only plan for the long term. We cannot rush.”

The subordinate acknowledged the order and withdrew, softly closing the door. The room returned to its previous silence.

Peter sat at the desk for a long time. Then, he reached out and picked up the registration information for Bai Xuan, reading it carefully once more, his brow furrowing deeper.

A Healer who had been in Blackcreek Town for less than a month. He seemed unremarkable, yet he hid unknown secrets.

He stared at the few lines of text on the paper, the doubt in his heart growing heavier.

“This man... just where did he come from?”

...

Early the next morning, Bai Xuan walked out of the White Lion Inn.

The street was the same as usual. Breakfast stalls emitted curling steam, and a few pedestrians hurried past.

He slowed his pace, discreetly scanning the spots where people usually hid. They were empty.

He walked a bit further and turned two corners, but that faint feeling of being watched never appeared.

No one was following him anymore.

Bai Xuan calculated quickly in his mind. The Information House must have realized the four men they sent hadn't returned.

They certainly wouldn't let it go, but the fact that they were staying their hand for now meant only one thing: they weren't sure of his background and didn't dare act recklessly.

Either they suspected he had someone backing him, or they realized his strength wasn't simple. In either case, this peace was only temporary.

Bai Xuan stopped dwelling on it and turned toward the edge of town.

The abandoned church was located on the far eastern side of town, far from the hustle and bustle of the market. After searching around, Bai Xuan finally found a low shack behind the church.

The thatched roof had collapsed in several places and was crudely patched with wooden boards and old cloth. The crooked door didn't close tightly, and a dim, yellow light seeped through the cracks.

He stepped forward and knocked. Immediately, a rustling sound came from inside.

After a long while, the door was pulled open just a crack.

An aged face peered through the gap, with deep-set eyes and skin as dry as old tree bark.

She stared intently at Bai Xuan with her murky eyes for several seconds before slowly speaking. “Who are you looking for?”

“I’m from the Adventurer’s Guild. I’ve taken your commission,” Bai Xuan said plainly.

The old nun was stunned for a moment before she slowly pulled the door open and stepped aside to let him in.

She wore a faded gray robe that had been washed until it was white. The hem was frayed in several places and crudely mended with thick thread.

There was a noticeable faded patch on her chest, clearly where something had once hung.

Bai Xuan followed her into the room. The shack was extremely cramped, containing only a wooden board bed and a table with uneven legs.

Piles of junk were stacked in the corners, and a single candle sat on the table, its wax dripping all over the surface.

“Sit,” the old nun said, her voice raspy and dry as she pointed to the only place to sit by the bed.

Bai Xuan didn't sit, instead getting straight to the point. “Regarding the holy crest, can you give me more details?”

The old nun sat by the table, her withered fingers lightly stroking the rough surface.

She began slowly, “Ten days ago, I was hanging laundry behind the church. Three thugs passed by, saw me wearing the holy crest, and snatched it away.”

She looked up, a faint light flickering in her murky eyes. “That crest isn't worth much; it’s just a rusty copper thing. But it’s the only thing I brought with me from the Grand Cathedral. I’ve worn it for forty years.”

She paused, her tone filled with helplessness. “I tried to chase them, but I’m too old to run. Later, I posted a commission at the Adventurer’s Guild. Someone took it, but they couldn't get the crest back.”

“What did the three of them look like?” Bai Xuan pressed.

“One was fat, and two were thin. Of the thin ones, one was tall and one was short. The tall one had no eyebrows.”

The old nun thought for a moment before adding, “When I heard them talking, one of them called another ‘Flyn.’”

Bai Xuan nodded slightly. After confirming the general area where the thugs hung out, he turned and left the shack.

He then headed toward the slums in the southwest corner of town, a place he had never visited before.

The streets of the slums were as narrow as alleys, crowded on both sides with dense, low shanties. Some were made of nailed wooden boards, others were enclosed by tattered cloth, all leaning haphazardly against each other.

The ground was pitted and uneven. The water from the rain a few days ago hadn't dried yet, and a single step would splash up black mud.

Bai Xuan couldn't help but think of the market at the dungeon entrance. Though that place was crude, it was a gathering spot for adventurers who might face monster attacks at any moment, so its simplicity was understandable.

But this was inside the town, yet it was so dilapidated. A sense of strangeness flickered in his mind, but he quickly withdrew his gaze and continued forward.

Several barefoot children were squatting by the road. When they saw Bai Xuan approaching, their eyes instantly lit up.

They stood up and were about to run toward him, shouting, “Lord Priest! Father, please spare some change...”

But just then, a woman suddenly rushed out of a nearby shanty. She grabbed the child in the lead and forcefully pulled him back.

She kept her head down, not daring to look at Bai Xuan for even a second as she hurried back inside with the child and slammed the door shut with a bang.

The other children looked at each other and quickly scattered.

As Bai Xuan continued forward, he could clearly feel countless eyes peeking at him from the gaps in the shanties. Yet, no one dared to come out, and no one dared to speak.

His heart stirred as he realized they were wary of people in white robes—or rather, they were wary of people from the Church.

Just what had happened here?

Bai Xuan didn't dwell on it. He slowly made his way through the alleys, gradually extending his spiritual sense outward.

Flyn, the fat one, the tall eyebrowless one—these keywords circled in his mind. Sunlight leaked through the gaps in the broken roofs, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

Bai Xuan walked among the shadows, watched by many eyes, yet no one ever dared to approach him.

After passing through several alleys with no luck, he rounded a corner and was met with a sudden burst of noisy commotion.

Several people were gathered in front of a shanty. The back of a fat man was particularly prominent as he pointed at a frail old man cowering by the door, shouting curses.

Two other men stood beside the fat one. One of them had a clean face with no eyebrows at all, making him look exceptionally strange.

A few pieces of firewood were scattered on the ground. The frail old man was protecting a tattered bag, huddled by the door with visible bruises on his face.

“...Where is this month's tribute? Hmm?”