"This isn't my fishing rod. Someone else gave it to me."
Jack's expression grew extremely tense.
"Whose is it?" Marina's fist clenched, a flicker of flame slowly appearing over her knuckles.
The Sect was not only the enemy of the Holy Court, but of all mages; even if Marina had never faced a heretic directly, she knew well enough from others of their danger.
To think of it, isn't Lake Beia likely the handiwork of heretics?
Jack sensed Marina's fury, his speech speeding up noticeably: "Emma gave it to me. He said it was his fishing rod. After his youngest son was killed by the white monster, he handed it to me and said their family would never fish again."
Hilia had already confirmed Jack wasn't a heretic; she wasn't surprised, just curious: "Did you use it then?"
Jack instantly shook his head. "I have my own fishing rod. Why use someone else's? Besides, what if it belonged to his younger son? It'd feel wrong to use it."
"So why didn't you throw it away?" Marina asked.
"He gave it to me out of kindness; I couldn't throw it out."
Marina turned to Hilia, saying, "There's something wrong with this fishing rod. Maybe it really was Emma's younger son's. After he was killed, the Sea Successor... the pollution brought by the white monster got onto his fishing rod."
"Is that so?" Jack froze for a second, then sighed in relief. "Scared me--I thought Emma was a heretic!"
Marina shot Hilia a look, and the two found an excuse to leave Jack's house, stepping outside.
Marina merely said, "Let's go find Uncle Emma," then took the lead, silently heading toward Emma's house.
Clearly, her earlier words were meant for Jack's ears, not to absolve Emma.
Hilia said nothing either, simply followed Marina to Emma's doorstep and knocked on the door.
Emma hadn't gone to bed yet; light could be seen inside. When he answered, wearing a coat, he looked at them in confusion: "Marina? And Mage, what brings you here?"
"Miss Hilia heard that your son died because of the white monster--she came to console and learn about what happened," Marina said.
"Please, come in."
The two followed Emma inside. His house was a bit bigger than Jack's, and had a fireplace; the glow they'd seen outside had come from the roaring fire there.
There was another person in the house: Emma's wife, wrapped in her coat and washing dishes. She turned at the sound and smiled happily. "Welcome, Miss Marina, and Mage."
"Hello." Hilia gave a polite greeting, then frowned a bit, sniffed the air.
"There's heavy pollution in here..."
If Jack's home was like a whiff of smoke from a spark, this place was the thick cloud of a fire disaster.
But strangely, it couldn't be sensed from outside—when she first arrived, Hilia had checked, and felt only faint traces, unclear.
No one would've guessed that inside, it was so dense, dense enough that Hilia felt a surge of impulse to burn down the whole house.
Just stepping inside, Hilia identified at least three corrupted objects.
The only uncertainty: Emma and his wife, were they heretics or not?
They seemed to be, and yet not quite.
"Are they heretics or not?"
Hilia was lost in what her sensing revealed.
Rose couldn't help but laugh: "If we had the power to instantly know someone's nature with a glance, the Holy Court wouldn't have fallen this far."
There are ways to detect pollution, but naturally, there are ways to resist that detection.
Hilia hadn't encountered this before—but now she had.
Normally, a house full of pollution—its owner would surely be a heretic. But the information from her senses couldn't prove it; it was as if he was just an ordinary villager...
Hilia gave up trying to sense.
Emma led them to their seats, asking, "What would you like to know? Sorry... the remains of my child have already been cremated and buried in the mountain behind."
Marina, lacking the Holy Word's perception, just felt that Emma's house was unusually cold.
"Why's your house so cold?" she couldn't help asking.
"Maybe it's because we live by the river, lots of cold air always pouring in."
Emma smiled, glanced at the fireplace. "That's why I had a fireplace built and keep the fire burning—it makes it a little warmer."
Marina looked at Hilia. "Miss Hilia?"
Hilia snapped back to herself, asking, "Did your child leave any belongings?"
"Yes."
Emma got up, rummaged for a moment, and brought back a box.
"Everything in here belonged to him. Ah, my child... he planned to go to school, and was preparing to follow his brother on adventures. Who would've thought..."
Emma's grief was genuine, and as he opened the box, it only deepened.
Besides his younger son's clothes, there was a bracelet in the box.
"This bracelet was a gift from his brother. It's just... we can't contact his brother here; we'd have to go to Xue Shan Town."
As the box was opened, the pollution from the bracelet rushed into Hilia's senses, making her clench her fist, aching to smash it to pieces.
Her voice came through gritted teeth: "Mr. Emma, what was your child's name?"
"Older son is Eric, younger is Duke," Emma sighed.
"Did Duke like fishing at Lake Beia?" Hilia asked.
Emma nodded. "He loved swimming and catching fish since he was young. Later, I asked Jack to watch him and take him fishing, and he grew fond of it."
Hilia nodded, gravely said, "I'm going to tell you something now. You may not be able to accept it, but it's related to your child's death."
Emma seemed to realize, quickly said, "Go ahead."
"Your younger son, Duke, was a heretic..."
"What?" Emma suddenly sprang up, agitated. "Impossible! My child could never be a heretic! What evidence do you have?"
Hilia's hand shimmered with frost. "Mr. Emma, please calm yourself."
The chill immediately cooled Emma's emotions: "Sorry, Mage. Do you have any evidence? My son never acted strange, never could've been a heretic. You must have mistaken him."
"The evidence is in his belongings—this bracelet. Did you ever touch it?"
Emma nodded, "I did. But it was icy—so cold it hurt my hand. I put it away."
"That's because the bracelet has been polluted by the Sect. Only a heretic wearing it for long would corrupt a magic artifact like this."
"That..."
"The fishing rod you gave to Jack—was it Duke's?"
"Yes."
"It, too, is deeply polluted."
"..."
"Are all your son's belongings cold to the touch? That's what pollution feels like."
"..."
"Your house is so cold—not from moisture, but because of all the polluted artifacts. Look, outside it's so warm."
"..."
"And..."
"Don't say another word!"
Emma's wife suddenly shrieked, and the three looked up to see her brandishing a kitchen knife, face twisted as she rushed toward them.
"Jenny, you..."