Chapter 8: Traces of the Werewolf

“Priest Corleon…”

Corleon, who was bowing his head in prayer, heard George’s voice.

Looking towards him, George pointed outside.

Corleon’s gaze followed in that direction.

Honey’s wife was carrying a jug of wine, moving among the guests with a flirtatious smile, her waist swaying, seemingly indifferent to the hands clinging to her.

Rather than mourners, the guests resembled patrons at a tavern, and Honey’s wife was akin to a courtesan flaunting her charms.

Someone laughed heartily, pulling her into an embrace, stuffing a handful of silver coins into her nearly bare bosom, while others cheered and jeered.

Corleon suddenly felt the silver coins he had just received from her burning in his hand.

He withdrew his gaze and looked at George.

There was a longing in his eyes.

For George, who had never married and had spent his first night of adulthood with a plump, aging woman for a few copper coins, this alluring woman was highly attractive.

Corleon could understand his desire; reproduction and lust were natural instincts of life.

However, for those who were to take the Commandments, overcoming one’s desires was an essential practice.

Noting that only George’s thread remained connected to the Light Orb, Corleon decided to admonish him.

“Desire is like a serpent coiling around the heart, luring one into the abyss with sweet bait; its venom corrodes the bones, causing the soul to wail in eternal fire,” Corleon said in a low voice, startling George.

“Priest Corleon, I was just…” he stammered, his expression tense, fearing abandonment.

“Desire is a natural instinct of life, but as a servant of the Lord, one must learn to restrain their desires. Only then can one avoid being blinded by desire and truly hear the Lord’s teachings,” Corleon interrupted him, looking at George.

“If you cannot accept such discipline, you may return to your birthplace tomorrow.”

“No, I sincerely wish to serve the Lord. I… I won’t look anymore,” George shook his head repeatedly.

“Then, join me now in praying for the deceased,” Corleon said, glancing at the dazed old man and lowering his eyes.

George dared not look outside again, bowing his head and following Corleon in praying for Honey.

After the Morning Star set, the guests dispersed, and Honey’s wife vanished without a trace.

Bidding farewell to the still-dazed old man, Corleon and George moved Honey’s corpse onto a wooden cart and took it to the church.

The cemetery was not far from the church, with a shabby shed containing a dozen prepared wooden planks.

Those buried by the church were not entitled to tombstones; a wooden plank bearing their name sufficed.

While digging a grave by candlelight with George, Corleon suddenly heard a faint sound.

Looking towards the source, he vaguely saw a shadow darting away from the cemetery.

Perhaps it was a wild wolf or stray dog.

The church’s cemetery was merely a fenced-off area, often visited by starving beasts that dug up graves to feast on the decaying corpses.

“Maybe they’ll come back tomorrow for some fresh meat,” Corleon thought, a cold joke in his mind.

After burying Honey and placing the wooden stake, dawn was breaking.

“Rest well today; tomorrow, I will perform your baptism,” Corleon said.

Since the earlier warning, George had not looked outside again. Corleon felt that this George was ready for baptism and to take the Commandments.

“Thank you, Priest Corleon!” George knelt and bowed to Corleon.

“I am a servant of the Lord. If there is anyone you should thank, it is the Lord alone,” Corleon helped George up.

“And the only one worthy of devout kneeling is the Lord.”

“You have not yet taken the Commandments and are not yet a servant of the Lord, so I won’t blame you this time. But once you have taken the Commandments, you must remember the Lord’s teachings.”

“Yes, Priest Corleon. I will remember the Lord’s teachings.”

“Very well. Now, return to the church,” Corleon said.

“Alright,” George replied, limping away with some excitement.

Corleon picked up his tools and walked to a pit.

He had noticed this pit earlier in the dim light.

It seemed to have been dug up by a beast during the night.

But that was unlikely.

If it were merely the claws of a beast, how could such a large pit be dug, exposing the entire corpse?

Moreover, there were no bite marks on the corpse.

Corleon vaguely remembered this corpse—it belonged to a member of a tax official’s family, beaten to death on the spot for being caught in an affair.

He squatted down and picked up some black granules from the corpse.

They seemed freshly scattered.

“So, it was done by someone,” Corleon thought.

Although he didn’t know what these black granules were, he sensed an ominous aura.

Looking around, he saw footprints resembling those of a dog or wolf, leading to the grass at the cemetery’s edge.

“Well, maybe it’s not just human involvement,” Corleon recalled stories told by an old priest about dark creatures.

There was a type of creature with a human form and wolf limbs, known as a werewolf.

Dark creatures were considered enemies.

The third clause of the Treaty of Kings stated: “Any noble has the duty to eliminate dark creatures. Those who violate this treaty shall be punished, and those who consort with dark creatures shall lose their noble status.”

“Could the failure in the war against Lundex be due to the involvement of dark creatures?” Corleon thought of the defeated Elbert Family’s army.

Knights, warriors, and militia—a combined force of nearly four hundred—were defeated and fled, leaving behind almost half their number as corpses while attacking a lord’s territory.

Such an illogical outcome must have other contributing factors.

However, the outcome of the war had little impact on Corleon.

In fact, the ongoing state of war allowed him to better spread the Faith.

But looking at the dug-up pit, he felt he needed to make some preparations.

Corleon did not consider leaving.

He was a registered resident of York Town.

Without the lord’s permission and proper identification, stepping onto other lands could result in being captured and sold as a slave.

Under the noble system, which had existed for over five thousand years, methods of turning commoners into private property, like crops in the field, had become highly refined.

As he pondered, Corleon’s hands did not stop; he used his tools to turn the soil and reburied the corpse.

This was the work of a priest and what a servant of the Lord should do.

Even though he had not yet completed the content for George’s practice after taking the Commandments.

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