The Price of a Priceless Life

As he rounded the corner, Yodel glanced back to see Yali still standing at her doorstep, her eyes following him.

Noticing his glance, Yali offered a sweet smile and waved a distant farewell to him.

Yodel returned the gesture with a wave and a nod.

‘Yali seems to be doing perfectly fine; she must have completely shaken off her shadows. But why do I still have this nagging feeling that something isn’t quite right?’

He pondered as he walked, but failing to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion, he had no choice but to abandon the thought, redirecting his focus to the God of Death’s mission instead.

His task was to eliminate the leader of the Immortality Society within sixty days.

‘The Immortality Society… the name of this cult seems almost deliberately antagonistic to the God of Death. No wonder my boss has them in their sights.’

‘My combat strength is too weak; I certainly can’t take down the leader alone. I need to find allies.’

‘Should I directly report them to the Church and the Royal authorities, effectively borrowing a knife to kill someone (TL Note: A Chinese idiom meaning to use someone else to achieve one’s goal)?’

‘No, that won’t do. While it might destroy the Immortality Society, it wouldn’t guarantee the leader’s death. What if they want to capture them alive, or put them through a trial? In that scenario, the leader would most likely survive past the sixty-day deadline.’

‘I can use the Church and the authorities to disrupt things, but I must personally deliver the killing blow to the leader, ensuring their immediate demise.’

‘Furthermore, I don’t necessarily need allies; even enemies can be exploited. I refuse to believe that in a city as vast as Landen, with so many local magnates (TL Note: A Chinese idiom referring to influential local figures), the Immortality Society has no adversaries.’

With his strategy taking shape, Yodel immediately sprang into action. He decided to first connect with the Church, reasoning that they would undoubtedly possess more experience in dealing with cultists.

****

In Landen City, on Royal Avenue, Inquisitor Yelica Cooper led a squad of monks on a patrol mission.

As the youngest Inquisitor of the Hymn Church, Yelica, despite her apparent inexperience, harbored an immense passion for her work.

Even for a mundane task like street patrol, she executed her duties with meticulous diligence.

Pedestrians on the street, be they beggars, commoners, wealthy merchants, or nobles, would all invariably give the Hymn Patrol a wide berth upon encountering them.

However, one individual proved an exception.

Yodel walked directly up to Yelica and haphazardly made a few gestures over his chest. To any observer, it would appear as a devout follower drawing a holy emblem in prayer.

As for the young Inquisitor, she observed him for a good while, sifting through her entire memory, yet failed to recognize which denomination’s holy emblem Yodel was attempting to draw.

‘Indeed, I am still too young; my experience pales in comparison to the veterans. When I return, I must diligently study the holy emblems of all the various churches,’ Yelica silently resolved.

Though unaware of Yodel’s faith, she nonetheless inquired in a businesslike manner. “Hello, citizen, have you encountered any difficulties?”

“Yes,” he replied, “but the trouble I’ve encountered stems from matters of faith. I kindly request, Inquisitor, that you enlighten me.”

Oh? A matter of faith? As a devout follower of the Hymn Church, Yelica’s interest was immediately piqued.

“Are you also a believer in God?”

“Of course,” Yodel answered without the slightest psychological burden.

He was not only a believer but also one of the God-chosen.

Interesting, very interesting. Was this man a heretic seeking trouble, or a lost lamb returning to the fold? Regardless, Yelica was more than eager to engage him in a debate.

“Speak freely,” she declared, adopting a confident stance. “I, Yelica, Inquisitor of the Hymn Church, shall surely provide you with an answer.”

Yodel secretly rejoiced; as long as the Inquisitor didn’t simply turn and leave, half of his plan was already a success.

“Yodel Finn, is my name.” He bowed slightly towards Yelica.

“My question is this: What is the value of a common mortal’s life?”

Yelica frowned.

Indeed, it was a question deeply imbued with religious undertones.

Yet, this particular question seemed to touch upon the doctrines of all denominations while simultaneously not aligning perfectly with any of them.

This made it difficult for Yelica to pinpoint her opponent’s faith, hindering her ability to formulate a targeted rebuttal.

Yodel’s expression remained serene, as if victory were already assured, provoking Yelica to curse inwardly, ‘A troublesome opponent.’

A moment later, she could only respond by combining the Church’s doctrines with her own values:

“Life is priceless.”

“Then, for ten gold pounds, to save a priceless life, would you be willing?”

Yelica’s brow furrowed. She acutely sensed that Yodel had not come for a debate, but harbored another, hidden agenda.

“I do not believe in measuring life with mere money.”

Seeing that Yelica refused to answer the question directly, Yodel remained unhurried, merely lowering his voice:

“Inquisitor, in twenty minutes, right here on this very street, two lives will be extinguished. What price are you willing to pay to save these priceless lives?”

“What did you say!”

Yelica slammed her staff heavily against the ground, an invisible aura instantly enveloping Yodel, while the priests behind her swarmed forward, completely surrounding him.

Despite his precarious situation, Yodel appeared remarkably calm, in stark contrast to the Hymn Patrol, who were tense and on high alert, as if facing a formidable enemy.

“You misunderstand,” Yodel said, slowly pushing away the staff that had been held against his throat. “I am not holding hostages to threaten you. In fact, I am just as eager to save those two innocent lives.”

“Now, the choice is yours. What great price are you willing to pay to preserve these priceless lives?”

Golden holy light flared in Yelica’s eyes as she scanned Yodel’s entire body.

After her scrutiny, she confirmed that this man was neither a mage nor a cleric; he possessed not a shred of psionic energy, merely an ordinary person devoid of supernatural abilities.

Yet, her intuition screamed that Yodel was far from as simple as he appeared.

Throughout the standoff, Yodel remained perfectly composed, while Yelica, by contrast, was drenched in a cold sweat. ‘Why do I feel such immense pressure?’ she thought. ‘He’s clearly just an ordinary person.’

While Yodel maintained a facade of profound inscrutability, he was secretly laughing on the inside.

He had long since seen the numbers hovering above Yelica’s head:

0/0/0

An Inquisitor responsible for combat, yet without even a single assist? She was clearly a rookie.

This tactic of his would certainly fail against an experienced Inquisitor, but it was more than enough to bluff Yelica, this inexperienced newcomer.

After a standoff lasting several tens of seconds, Yelica took a deep breath, admitting defeat. She retracted her staff, pulled out a pouch, and tossed it to Yodel.

“All the money I have on me, it’s yours,” she said. “Now tell me how to save them.

“If you dare to deceive me… hmph!”

Yodel took the money without counting it, settled himself into a chair at a nearby outdoor dining table, and simply tossed the money pouch onto the tabletop.

“Don’t worry, I won’t run away.

“Do you see that mother holding her child? In eighteen minutes, their lives will be in danger.”

Yelica followed Yodel’s gaze and quickly locked onto the target.

Yodel, too, fixed his gaze on the mother and daughter. Before long, he watched as the death premonitions surrounding them gradually twisted, shattered, and vanished.

“Truly an Inquisitor,” Yodel remarked, seeing the crisis averted. “Even if she’s a rookie, her abilities are still impressive.”

“How did you know I’m a rookie?” Yelica spun around sharply.

“You just directly resorted to force, nearly killing me. Did it not cross your mind that if I truly were a terrorist, I might, when cornered, go all out in a desperate fight (TL Note: A Chinese idiom, ‘yu si wang po,’ meaning to fight to the death, or to make a desperate move when one’s life is at stake), resulting in mutual destruction? With such heavy pedestrian traffic on this street, did you consider the consequences?

“If that’s not the inexperience of a rookie, then what is it?”

“I…” Yelica’s face flushed crimson, leaving her to stand there awkwardly. She had no choice but to admit that Yodel was right; her actions had indeed been ill-considered.

Seeing Yelica speechless, Yodel nodded contentedly and summoned a server from the adjacent tea shop.

“Have a seat,” Yodel said, smiling as he opened the money pouch on the table. “It’s still early. Would you like a cup of tea? My treat, with your money.”

“You…” Yelica’s face flushed red once more, this time from sheer indignation.