Chapter 403: The Price of Truth

Toot toot toot toot…

A rickety, old-fashioned walk-behind tractor—no doubt built thirty years ago and still running against all odds—chugged up to the Black Gate, its exhaust belching thick smoke and its frame seemingly on the verge of collapse.

A man in a black cloak jumped off the tractor. He stretched his creaking back, retrieved his luggage—a small silver case—and then turned to the driver, placing his right hand over his heart as he bowed politely, “Thank you for bringing me all this way. I trust that our God will grant you peace and serenity.”

The old man retorted, “I don’t believe in God—I only believe in getting my fare. If you don’t pay up, I’ll give you a knife cut!”

He pulled out a rusty knife and twirled it in his hand with a menacing glare.

The priest in the black cloak was taken aback for a moment, then chuckled.

He sheepishly dug into his pocket and handed over a twenty-yuan bill.

The old man snatched the money, stowed it in his pocket, picked up the knife again, and said, “Now add fifty more…”

The priest, confused, asked, “Wasn’t it twenty as we agreed earlier?”

The old man glared and replied coldly, “Out there, I managed to get seventy on my own—are you going to pay?”

The priest could only chuckle and said, “And now?”

The old man squinted and said, “My four sons are out in the fields right now—think they’d come running if I called out?”

The priest shook his head with a wry smile and said, “After preaching for all these years, I rarely come across someone as genuine as you.”

After that, he pulled out another fifty yuan, bowed to the old man, and then turned to leave.

He arrived at a small town, home to several thousand people—a notable settlement indeed.

The area was enclosed by high barriers of thorns and barbed wire, with a Black Gate standing at its center.

At the doorway, two shabby lounge chairs were arranged, with two lean men sitting on either side, leisurely puffing on cigarettes as they scrutinized him.

One of them remarked, “We haven’t planned on shipping any grain or restocking lately; the big market only comes around on the 5th, and that’s always early.”

Another asked, “So, what brings you here now?”

It wasn’t until the priest approached that one of the men lazily sat up, eyeing him from head to toe.

The priest replied, “I’m not a goods runner.”

Standing before them, the priest smiled courteously and said, “I follow our God and I’m here to preach.”

“Oh…”

Both gatekeepers instantly perked up, finding the situation rather novel.

While plenty of folks came to town to sell, deliver, or even steal goods, preachers were a rare sight.

One asked, “Tell me, what good does your religion offer?”

The man on the left squinted and inquired, “Does your church distribute grain?”

The man on the right let out a chuckle and said, “Why ask? Mainly…”

He rubbed his beard and asked, “Aren’t there plenty of maidens in your church?”

And are there plenty of clothes?

…

Despite the impolite teasing, the priest remained unruffled. Smiling, he said, “Our church doesn’t dole out grain, but we ensure no one goes hungry. Our God teaches us to eschew carnal love so that we never suffer its woes. We pursue truth—and truth frees us from the clutches of desire, granting us eternal peace.”

The two men exchanged glances and nodded in unison, declaring, “Liars!”

Anyone who offers no tangible benefit is a liar.

The man continued, “Right—those shamans from the neighboring village hardly dress, yet you have the nerve to speak…”

…

He raised a hand and pointed, “Get out of here quickly; I’m glad I didn’t eat much at lunch, or I’d have had the strength to beat you up.”

The priest chuckled, “I journeyed all the way from the South; I’m not leaving. I wish to meet your town’s leader.”

“Leader?”

The man on the right sneered, “Don’t you know? Our leader despises liars even more than we do.”

He isn’t like us, barely fed; he has enough strength to kill every day.

…

The priest smiled, “Don’t worry—I’ll show him what truth really means.”

Then, he reached into his pocket and drew out several bills, which he respectfully handed to the two men.

With his right hand pressed to his chest, he bowed and said, “Thank you for the trouble.”

The two gatekeepers fell silent for a moment as they quickly pocketed the money and exchanged a glance. The one on the right then got up, went into the Security Booth, picked up the phone, and said, “Hey, someone’s here to see the Town Chief.”

The voice on the other end asked, “What’s his business?”

“A delivery man—he says there’s plenty of merchandise over there.”

“Should we let him in?”

“Alright!”

…

After quickly agreeing, they both approached the priest and commanded, “Search him first!”

The priest cheerfully consented and raised both hands.

They patted him down—finding no guns or knives. They even opened his case, which contained nothing but a few changes of underwear and some minor belongings. At most, they found a few crumpled bills in his pocket, and didn’t dare seize any more.

“Go in.”

They instructed, “From here on, it’s none of our business. If the Boss asks, just say you’re here on business.”

“Thank you, thank you. I understand—I won’t get you involved,” the priest replied.

The priest agreed, then picked up his case and strolled effortlessly through the massive iron gate.

Inside a sturdy stone building, he met the Town Chief—a man clearly forged in the Knight Orders.

Though a bit older, he was impressively muscular, his unbuttoned shirt revealing a chest bristling with dark hair.

Flanking the room on grimy sofas sat several young men with scarred faces and stubble—a classic tough wasteland look—while three long-legged young women danced a lively cha-cha on the carpet.

“What business do you have?”

The Town Chief shot the priest a cold, ominous glance and frowned, “By your looks, you don’t seem here on business.”

“Actually, I’m a preacher.”

The priest smiled sincerely, “Of course—preaching can be regarded as business.”

“Hand over your soul to me, and I’ll grant you eternal peace—a fair trade, isn’t it?”

…

The Town Chief’s face darkened as he scratched his head in distress, then motioned to the young men around him.

“Slaughter him!”

“Don’t let the meat go to waste!”

…

The young men on the sofas immediately stood up, grinning spitefully as they eyed him like a pig.

“Hold on!”

The priest raised his hand and smiled, “Before you kill me, why not take a look at my offering?”

Then, he cupped the silver case in both hands, beckoning them to look.

The Town Chief coldly signaled, prompting the three dancing young women to rush forward, trembling as they positioned themselves between him and the priest. Simultaneously, the young men swiftly drew their guns, aiming at the priest’s head.

“Now, you can open the case.”

The Town Chief said languidly, “If I don’t like what’s inside, I’ll have you killed anyway.”

“You’ll be pleased with it…”

The priest smiled and said, “Before that, I have a question.”

“Tell me, what sort of thing would make you trade your soul in exchange?”

…

The Town Chief frowned and said to the young men, “Maybe we should just kill him and open it ourselves.”

The priest, growing a bit flustered, quickly responded, “No, no—I’ll open it myself.”

Without further delay, he knelt on the carpet, placed the case before him, and gently pressed the button.

The lid slowly sprang open, and the priest’s eyes lit up as he let out a soft sigh.

Then, he rotated the case, presenting its contents to the Town Chief.

“Wow…”

In that moment, both the three girls shielding the chief and the young men leaning in to peek at the case let out low murmurs of awe, their eyes sparkling.

Though the case contained nothing more than a few changes of underwear and assorted trinkets, the sight excited them so much that it seemed as if drool was practically dripping.

“Clear the way, clear the way…”

The Town Chief shoved the girls aside forcefully, as if they were obstructing his view.

His gaze was fixed intently on the case, as if he longed to dive right in. Even while moving from behind the table to the front, he didn’t take his eyes off it. Shaking, he approached the priest and asked excitedly, “Th-this is really for me?”

“Yes.”

The priest smiled, “If you’re willing to embrace our God, then it’s yours.”

“I… I’m willing. I am indeed!”

The Town Chief nearly sank to his knees, reaching out with both hands as if to grasp the contents of the case, though he dared not.

“If that’s the case, I’ll tell you my terms.”

The priest gently closed the case and said, “It’s not just you who wants this item. I’ve already been to Songshan Town, Blackwater Town, Bai Ni Town, Qinghe Town, and the Woshan Knight Orders… In each place, they saw what’s inside and agreed to follow our God, and I promised to give them the case’s contents. So, what do we do about this?”

The Town Chief suddenly lifted his gun, his face contorting with murderous intent, and declared, “I’m going to kill them!”

“Hehe, no need, no need…”

The priest smiled gently, “If you’re willing to listen to me, I’ll give you the item.”

“After all… we’re not the only ones!”

…

“I…”

The Town Chief opened his mouth, his face contorting grotesquely as if worms were wriggling beneath his skin, and thundered, “I want it all!”

“This…”

The priest was momentarily stunned, then chuckled, “Then, let’s see how you perform.”

Then he turned serious and said, “I have two tasks for you.”

The Town Chief fixed his gaze on him and said, “Go on.”

The priest smiled and said, “First, that old man in your town—the one who drives that hand-operated tractor to haul people around—must be killed.”

He says he has four sons; they too must die.

…

The Town Chief nodded fiercely and signaled to the others, “Get it done!”

The priest nodded in satisfaction and smiled, “Second, round up every man in your town who can handle a gun.”

“All under my command.”