Chapter 37: A Good Person (Please Continue Reading)

3:50 AM, Cult of Agony stronghold.

"Ah, merciful Mother, you are the incarnation of all worldly suffering, bearing the endless grief and struggles of all living beings~~~"

Who is singing!?

Sid Flores suddenly snapped his bloodshot eyes open and sat up, wide awake.

The singing was off-key, rising and falling like glass scratching against a chalkboard, making one want to curl into a ball and shiver.

At this moment, Ron, who had already finished washing up, looked serious and explained, "It’s Aleka from the 'Throat of Agony'!"

"I heard other cultists mention him yesterday. He sings praises to the Merciful Mother every day at exactly 3:50 AM, more punctual than a wind-up alarm clock."

Hearing this, Sid suddenly recalled the rule that everyone must rise at 4:00 AM daily to report to their designated assembly point. If one was late, the first offense meant a severed finger, the second a severed hand, and the third, execution.

The silver-haired young man’s expression turned bitter as he hurriedly scrambled out of bed. In such a miserable morning, one could truly feel the depths of suffering. No wonder some cultists committed suicide.

The Logistics Minister wiped his face and looked at the bright-eyed, energetic Ron. "Why are you perfectly fine?"

Hearing this, Ron flashed a row of white teeth, gave a thumbs-up, and said proudly, "Because I didn't sleep at all last night!"

To be an undercover agent, one must possess an indomitable spirit, the ability to endure being pointed at and whispered about, and at the same time, possess excellent self-regulation skills. Ron considered himself to have perfected all three.

To fulfill Mr. Snake’s dream, to uphold justice and dispel evil, the boy had given his all, not daring to slacken for a moment. Fortunately, he was one step closer to his goal.

Last night, Investigator Ron and the Logistics Minister had discussed a perfect plan: to transmit information about this secret stronghold to the outside world, allowing Olivia to lead a team to exterminate these cultists. When that time came, he and Sid would work from within and without to crush the enemy and rescue the imprisoned maid.

However, this perfect plan had hit a serious snag: how was the intelligence to be transmitted out of a sealed stronghold?

"..."

Investigator Ron and Minister Sid stared at each other in silence for a long time.

—

4:00 AM.
The Cult of Agony’s new recruit assembly room.

After parting ways with Sid, Ron walked with a spring in his step to a table stained with rust and blood, sitting down with perfect posture.

Compared to the other listless new recruits, he seemed quite suited for this environment. In the dark, damp classroom lit only by firelight, he possessed a vibrant, sunny spirit.

This made the stronghold leader, Aleka, who was observing from the shadows, quite satisfied. He was truly a natural-born villain; he didn't even feel the "suffering" in the singing.

"Excellent. You are the highest-quality recruit this time."

The cult leader walked up to Ron, patted his shoulder, and did not spare his praise.

Ron nodded steadily upon hearing this, but inside, he felt a wave of nervousness. He hadn't expected the cult leader himself to oversee the first day of training! This made Ron doubt if his hidden identity had been exposed.

Just then, footsteps came rapidly from the hallway. The boy looked toward the door and saw a sweaty, panting new recruit. The poor fellow, upon entering, saw Aleka’s scarred face—a scar running from forehead to corner of the mouth. He froze instantly, his body trembling like a sieve, unable to move an inch.

"S-sorry, Lord Aleka, I... I am late..."

"By the rules, for the first tardiness, a finger is forfeit."

Aleka’s voice was indifferent, as if speaking of a trivial matter. He gave the recruit no chance to explain.

A flash of white steel flickered. A bloody, severed finger was tossed into the trash can.

What an evil guy! Good thing I didn't sleep all night...

Seeing this, Ron felt a sense of relief. But before he could fully relax, the boy heard the cult leader say coldly:

"You are the worst batch of recruits I have ever led. Late, leaving early, childish pranks—I am sick of it!"

"For tomorrow's assessment, you will all lose ten points!"

Under Aleka’s lecture, all the new recruits hung their heads; no one dared to utter a word of rebuttal. Seeing this, the cult leader grew even more disappointed, lamenting, "A bunch of trash, good-for-nothings. You can't even do evil properly!"

"Your dirty tactics aren't even as good as Gandalf’s, who arrived today."

What is that supposed to mean? How am I "dirty"?

Ron was stunned, feeling his character had been gravely slandered. If you want to talk, talk—why the insults? He wanted to defend himself, but considering his current identity, he swallowed his words.

However, even though the honest boy kept a low profile, he was quite dazzling among these new recruits.

Aleka, dressed in a blood-colored military uniform, focused his gaze on Ron again.

"Gandalf, tell these newcomers what suffering is. Take Snake as an example; he is your guide. How should you treat him to fulfill the Mother's great will?"

As he spoke, a cruel smile appeared on the "Throat of Agony's" grim face. Frankly speaking, there were no friendships among cultists; backstabbing and framing each other were common occurrences. Aleka asked Ron this to set an evil example for the newcomers. At the same time, he secretly hoped to see what despicable and shameless methods such a "born villain" could come up with.

How to treat Mr. Snake?

Hearing this, the blonde boy froze, falling into a state of profound internal conflict. He vaguely remembered Mr. Snake taking out the Radiant Bible in the prison, and a warmth stirred in his heart.

At this moment, Ron couldn't help but worry for the cultist. He was terrified that an improper answer would bring great trouble to this man who was sincerely trying to repent.

I cannot speak ill of him!

The boy pursed his lips and made up his mind.

"Mr. Snake is a good person. I don't think there is anyone kinder than him..."

What are you babbling about? Snake is a good person?

Ron’s statement left Aleka stunned. But soon, the cult leader realized something was wrong. Scanning the dumbfounded recruits, he realized that if these words spread, the reputation Snake had painstakingly built over the years would completely collapse.

What a vicious scheme! To betray his benefactor without hesitation!

Aleka had thought that, having immersed himself in the way of suffering for years, he was quite the villain himself, but he hadn't expected to meet a master today.

—

"Is he that 'good person'?"

"Yeah, yeah, he really looks like a good person."

"I think he's called Black-Hand Snake, but now he's become 'Benevolent Snake'."

"You know, looking at it from another angle, he does look quite kind-hearted."

Who are you calling a good person!?

In the stronghold cafeteria, Snake’s face was as dark as water; he didn't understand what had gone wrong. Ever since he finished his morning patrol, everywhere he went, people would point at him and call him a "good person" behind his back.

Damn it, what on earth is going on!?