Gun of Ashes

Chapter 521: Chapter 110 Undead_2

”You... why would you ask him? I thought you wanted to know where the Holy Hall Knight Order’s treasure is.”

After a moment of shock, Shermans said in a hoarse voice.

”Do you think I care about such things? The Church’s secrets, the secrets of the Night of the Holy Arrival, the secrets of Lorenzo de’ Medici.”

Lorenzo grabbed Shermans by his blood-stained collar, with a rising fury in his gray-blue eyes.

”Tell me everything you know!”

...

”Lorenzo de’ Medici...”

The three hid in the wine cellar, Shermans sitting between Lorenzo and Yage, leaning against the wall facing the cellar’s door, while Lorenzo listened to him speak, holding the Lacquered Antimony Flying Knife and shotgun pointed at the door.

Time—at this moment, Lorenzo needed time to understand the past information, so they finally chose to hide in the wine cellar. Although it seemed like a desperate place, according to Shermans, there was a hidden passage here... not exactly a hidden passage, just compared to the common cellars, it had two doors, one directly leading to the surface.

This manor was large, and at least the Demon Hunters hadn’t searched over yet, giving them precious time.

Shermans laughed heartily, holding a wine bottle, tilting his head back to drink.

Although no one had lived here for a long time, when Shermans settled in, he brought many supplies gifted by the Purification Mechanism.

”I didn’t expect to drink heartily before dying, it’s quite good...”

Shermans watched the liquid shaking in the bottle, resembling blood.

”Lorenzo de’ Medici... he was connected to Lawrence, and to many others.”

Just as Lorenzo was about to urge him, Shermans spoke first, drunkenly, easing his physical pain.

”What do you mean?” Lorenzo asked.

”Where should I start? Lawrence was originally a puppet used by Lorenzo de’ Medici to control the Demon Hunting Order, but as he aged, Lawrence grew stronger in secret, and they had been in a power struggle for a long time. Eventually, Lorenzo de’ Medici lost due to his old age, just as you know, he went into seclusion.”

Shermans reminisced about that legendary life, with a face of nostalgia.

”Of course, it’s not just these factors. When Lorenzo de’ Medici was young, he dominated the entire Florence, but with the passage of time, everything he tightly held began to rebel—Pope, Cardinal, Lawrence... he led the Golden Era, forever remembered, yet everyone secretly wished for his demise.”

Lorenzo couldn’t tolerate Sherman’s lengthy narrative, urging further.

”Was his late life really so peaceful? Did he just willingly die in mediocrity?”

In that bizarre memory, he was tied to an iron bed, countless people surrounded him, Lorenzo couldn’t understand what they were doing. He wasn’t even certain whether the person tied on the bed in that memory was truly himself.

An elder gently stroked the boy’s forehead, seemingly calming him, humming the nameless hymn, echoing in deep melancholy.

Lorenzo didn’t realize that as he approached the truth, his emotions were stirred, like a stubbornly burning fire.

”Deeper in... I don’t know, after all, that’s Lorenzo de’ Medici. Whatever he does wouldn’t surprise me, because that’s his nature...”

Shermans’ mouth was filled with praise.

”However, since then, there have always been rumors that he didn’t concede defeat. Present silence was merely accumulating strength. The Cardinals remained vigilant of this, given how long Lorenzo de’ Medici controlled Florence, who could know what he knew, or where he hid such strength.”

”Continue!”

Lorenzo said, vaguely sensing that this was what he had been searching for in Lorenzo de’ Medici’s late-life deeds.

”Someone said he’s secretly plotting a certain project, but the specifics are unclear.”

Shermans thought to himself, having shown signs of Alzheimer’s for some time, often speaking incoherently, yet today was different. It was as if heaven’s favor gave clarity, piecing together the broken story.

”This is just my deduction. I suspect Lorenzo de’ Medici found something in the Revelation.”

Shermans put down the wine bottle, his expression serious.

”The Evangelical Church holds too many unspeakable secrets, known only by those truly wielding power. If there’s an ultimate secret, it’s within the Revelation, from which we built today’s Evangelical Church and ruled the Western world for nearly a millennium.”

”It’s a miraculous book.”

Shermans focused his gaze on Lorenzo.

”We gained the power of Secret Blood from it, but is this truly all the Revelation records? Even today, no one knows all the knowledge in that book.”

Lorenzo felt an invisible pressure, a sense of being watched, as if something in this cellar was observing him.

”Lorenzo de’ Medici, he possessed power, wealth, fame—as a person, his life reached its peak, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough. He devoted his life to creating the Golden Era, how could he bear to let it end?”

It was a horrifying secret, almost taboo, Shermans never had the chance to say these things, as it would be deemed mad. But today was different; it was the last life celebration.

”He had pure will, yet was imprisoned by a mortal body.”

Shermans articulated his perspective.

”I guess this is what Lorenzo de’ Medici worked on in his later years, researching Revelation, creating you all from the Secret Blood derived from it. Not to mention, saving a dying elder?”

Lorenzo’s pupils narrowed, compelled to believe Shermans’ words, because in that eerie memory, he heard clearly.

The Blood of the Holy Grail.

”Lorenzo de’ Medici...”

Lorenzo’s voice trembled slightly, suddenly realizing Lawrence Dean’s strength was insignificant compared to this. This mysterious existence was truly terrifying—a plot devised many years ago during the Golden Era it continued to stretch within the shadows today.

”Immortality... only through immortality could the grand Golden Era become eternal.”

Words tugged at his wound, Shermans drank half the wine, pain forcing him to vomit it, indistinguishable from blood.

A heavy net encased everyone, no matter how dazzling the light, incapable of dispelling God’s shadow, much less erasing mortal history. Someone hid there, directing the world’s trajectory.

Lorenzo de’ Medici.

In a daze, Lorenzo’s ears rang with the nameless hymn again, the melody familiar, spinning and rising. Lorenzo de’ Medici once hummed it, 047 too; it lived in everyone’s memories, altering with one’s recollection, or vanished entirely.

Lorenzo couldn’t help but hum softly along with the voice in his mind.

The sound so airy entered Shermans’ ear. Just a moment ago somewhat drunk, he suddenly awoke.

This song was so familiar, how could he forget this melody? Many years ago, that elder hummed the nameless hymn, gazing into the distance.

Footsteps sounded from the cellar’s door direction; Lorenzo stood, drew his weapon, the fiery blaze rising from his pupils. Backing Shermans, he strode forward, while the melody blurred with his departure.

”Perhaps... he succeeded?”

Shermans looked at the door, a light flickering, in the blur, shadows moved within the blazing light, seemingly angels descending, guiding him to the Celestial Kingdom.

”Maybe Lorenzo de’ Medici never died, maybe he’s alive, quietly watching us from a corner.”

Shermans watched Lorenzo’s silhouette, laughing heartily, ignoring Yage’s counsel, drinking the wine with fervor.