397 Execution Ground
“You’ve heard about this surgery too?”
After a moment of thought, he forced a smile.
“As expected of you. You’re knowledgeable and have a wide range of interests. You even know about such cutting-edge surgeries.”
“Seems like you know a lot,” Lumian brushed off Lugano’s ingratiation.
Lugano nodded quickly.
“I’ve read in several magazines that doctors believe the essence of such surgery is to destroy the patient’s brain, and it’s irreversible. In other words, while it appears to cure the patient’s madness, it leaves him with lower intelligence and eternally calm, devoid of emotional fluctuations.
“They believe that if we don’t use this surgery, there’s still a chance of recovery from the madness through other methods, but once they become stupid, there’s no hope of recovery.”
Intis still has many doctors with high academic standards who dare to speak the truth. Their professional ethics aren’t bad either… Lumian nodded inwardly.
After confirming that Lugano had a certain understanding of the medical world, he casually asked,
“Any strange medical cases recently?”
Lugano pondered for a moment and slowly shook his head.
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
Just as Lumian was about to change the subject, Lugano added, “If you insist on something strange, there’s a folklore that’s been trending on a small scale recently.”
“Medical-related folklore?” Lumian discerned the underlying meaning in Lugano’s words.
Lugano, with his brown hair and eyes, replied with a smile, “Sort of.
“It’s probably because a group of Trier citizens believe that the blood shed by a death row inmate carries the last vestiges of life’s resilience. If you eat some bread dipped in it, it can treat various illnesses. This infuriated many medical columnists, who called it a retro, bloody, and foolish act. In comparison, going to the cathedral to seek protection might be more effective.”
“Why haven’t I heard of such folklore?” Lumian found the Trier citizens’ actions indescribable. They weren’t just foolish.
Lugano chuckled.
“Boss, that’s normal. I’ve never heard of it before either. It’s a folklore that only appeared in the past two to three months. Perhaps it’s brought about by some foreigners. More and more people are believing it.”
Shortly before noon, having filled his stomach, he turned onto Rue des Blouses Blanches and entered Apartment 3.
He knocked on Apartment 601’s door and tossed the Lie earring to Franca, whose flaxen-colored hair was tied up in a simple ponytail.
This companion had to interact with the Demoness Sect in the afternoon again. She had to revert to her previous appearance.
“What took you so long?” Franca precisely caught the silver earring. “Didn’t you receive the information from Madame Hela? I’ve been waiting for you to come and discuss it.”
A soft chuckle escaped Lumian’s lips.
“Why are you even more anxious than me?”
After closing the door, he sat on the sofa and recounted the key information and corresponding guesses he had extracted from the information. Franca chimed in from time to time, offering her opinions.
Towards the end, Lumian recounted the bounty hunter Lugano Toscano’s description of Trier’s medical world and the strange folklore.
Franca’s expression turned odd.
“Is there a problem?” Lumian wasn’t alarmed but delighted.
Franca confirmed succinctly, “The rumor that eating bread stained with the blood of death row inmates can treat illnesses is very similar to ancient folklore back home, but that was many years ago. Ever since education was made universal, such folklore has basically disappeared.
“In the original folklore, steamed buns dyed red by the blood of death row inmates could treat severe lung ailments, provided they were eaten while they were still hot.”
Lumian raised his right eyebrow.
He had found the strange folklore giving him an indescribable feeling.
It felt like a prank!
This was the style of April Fool’s!
“I Know Someone came up with it?” Lumian suddenly felt a surge of excitement.
A Psychiatrist capable of hypnosis could make such folklore appear and spread without anyone knowing!
Franca nodded solemnly.
“I Know Someone is also from your sister’s and my homeland. Otherwise, your sister wouldn’t have trusted him and sought treatment for her psychological problems.
“His code name and the language he knows bear witness to this. Besides him and Black Earth, the other members of April Fool’s might not be aware of that ancient folklore.”
“Loki doesn’t know either?” Lumian asked in surprise.
“I’m not sure.” Franca frowned. “I’m not familiar with him, and he has never revealed his identity as a fellow countryman. If he hadn’t recited the four-lined honorific name in the language of your sister and me, I wouldn’t have known that he knew it. I always thought that their team’s Emperor Roselle diary entries were translated by I Know Someone and Black Earth.”
“If it’s really a folklore prank created by I Know Someone, I’ll go to the execution ground in the prison district and watch.”
The prison district, also known as Quartier du Red Hat, officially numbered 4, was one of the oldest urban districts. It boasted Intis’s most renowned prison, Saint-Maar Prison, hence the district’s name.
Near Saint-Maar Prison stood one of Trier’s busiest execution grounds—Rois Comprehensive Execution Ground.
“Be careful. Psychiatrists are more cautious than Marionettists,” Franca warned.
Although I Know Someone wasn’t a Beyonder of the Seer, Marauder, or Apprentice pathways and couldn’t discover the seal on Lumian’s body even if he believed in the Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings, Lumian still felt that he couldn’t be careless. He got back the Lie earring and briefly changed his appearance. He was worried that the resurrected Loki had already communicated with I Know Someone about his and Franca’s real appearance.
Franca took back the Lie earring and asked curiously, “What was up with that terrifying aura from that day?”
Lumian chuckled.
“We’ll need to start with Madame Hela and me searching for the Samaritan Women’s Spring.”
“…” Franca was taken aback for a moment before cursing. “Dammit! How many details did you leave out?”
“It depends on when it comes up.” Lumian briefly mentioned how the Blood Emperor’s aura had corroded his flesh.
Franca had already forgotten her anger. She carefully observed Lumian’s raised right palm and finally noticed the indistinct marks that seemed to have been squeezed beyond recognition.
“Wow, you actually have the aura of a true god on you. Although it’s just an empty shell, it’s still the aura of a true god. Furthermore, it’s a true god of the same pathway.” Franca sighed enviously, wishing she could have one for herself.
She then looked at Lumian’s bandaged left hand.
“What’s on this one?”
“Nothing. It’s just to attract attention,” Lumian replied with a smile.
Franca was stunned for two seconds.
“You’re so sinister! If you advance to a Conspirer, your digestion speed will definitely be very fast!”
“I hope the outcome is as good as your blessings,” Lumian replied without modesty.
…
In the afternoon, Lumian took a public carriage to the north bank of the Srenzo River and arrived at the Rois Comprehensive Execution Ground in the prison district.
One of Trier’s citizens’ hobbies was watching the execution of criminals. Although it wasn’t the weekend, there were still many people gathered here. There were even many vendors setting up stalls or traversing among them, hawking food and drinks.
Among them, there was no shortage of gorgeously dressed street girls seeking business, as well as a group of authors who had deliberately come to take a stroll.
If not for the name “Rois Comprehensive Execution Ground” written at the intersection and the gallows and beheading platform standing in the distance, Lumian would have suspected that he had come to the wrong place and entered a nearby market. It was bustling and noisy.
Stepping on the muddy ground, Lumian concealed himself in the crowd and circled the execution ground as if he were strolling through a market.
He didn’t spot anyone suspicious, but he saw a dozen or so men and women with bread in their hands crowding in front. Their clothes were old, and some of them could be considered crude.
After a while, the crowd suddenly stirred, squeezing to the sides of the road leading to the execution ground to welcome the procession from Saint-Maar Prison.
Lumian didn’t join in the bustle, but he heard cheers, whistles, and women shouting, “I’m willing to marry you.”
The latter wasn’t a proposal, but a jest about past folklore. In the classical era before Emperor Roselle, if a death row inmate received a proposal while walking from prison to the execution ground and he agreed, he would receive a change in sentence and survive. However, not all death row inmates would accept it. Some valued looks very much, while others had dignity. They all chose death to uphold their ideals.
The two most renowned cases involved a handsome death row inmate who rejected the proposal of a woman, believing her appearance to be a nightmare. On the other hand, a beautiful girl, faced with an executioner’s courtship, gave up the opportunity to save herself, believing it was an insult to love and marriage.
Lumian squeezed into the front row of onlookers and saw two death row inmates standing at the firing point.
They were relatively young, no more than 30 years old. They wore standard prison uniforms—red short shirts, yellow pants, and green hats. Their feet dragged iron balls, and their hands were tied behind their backs with iron chains.
One of the men had black hair and blue eyes, while the other had brown hair and brown eyes. They were good-looking, but their gazes were filled with hatred.
Upon seeing the execution gunmen reach their designated positions and raise their rifles, the two death row inmates shouted, “Long live freedom!”
“Return to glory!”
After shouting, the two of them glared at each other angrily and collapsed amidst the gunshots, blood gushing out.
The people holding the bread were excited, but they were stopped by the soldiers in front of them and couldn’t rush to the firing point.
Once the condition of the two death row inmates was confirmed, the soldiers left in formation. The bread-wielding citizens charged towards the blood-stained soil.
Lumian didn’t look at them. Instead, he observed his surroundings to see who was enjoying this absurd comedy.