The desolation of the small town has struck the speechless like never before. If his brother's family were still alive and living their own lives, it would alleviate a lot of the fears that this reality brought him. Now that they were all gone, he fully understood how bleak and dilapidated the town was. Almost all doors have red crosses scrawled on their faces.

The corpses were piled up by the wall, and the snow and ice stuck them to the street. Since the town's elders no longer pay for the removal of corpses, there are now only a few corpse collectors. The few who remained were not much better than the robbers, just carrying the bodies that those grieving relatives had paid them to carry away.

The Speechless watched as one of the gangs carried the dead child of a white-haired widow onto the boat and took a few loaves of bread and a basket of vegetables in return. And the bandits simply dragged their goods to the next corner, stopped their wagon, stripped the dead man's shoes from his feet, and threw the useless corpse into the snow.

The misfortune of the town was aggravated by the nobility here. The magistrate locked himself in the castle and protected himself from the plague by hiring a warlock. The Warlock's cultivation was not enough to stop the plague from spreading from the castle, and ironically, he was one of the first to die. Now, the frightened county officials have completely cut off contact with the outside world and still hope to escape the plague by living in seclusion.

The soldiers of Yangning, the mercenaries from overseas, have already arrived and are preparing to quarantine the small city. The soldiers set up armed camps on the outskirts of the town, ensuring that no one entered or left the town. The bodies of those who had tried to escape were hung on the gallows as a warning to their neighbors.

The whole city is dying. As the Wordless wandered the streets, he could feel it gradually decaying around him. He could almost see the ghosts of the deceased hovering over their homes, beckoning to those who remained, begging them to abandon this painful hopeless life and embrace the oblivion of the grave. He could feel the strange chill of the grave drifting down the path, like a hungry beast looking for prey. He could hear the wails of the dead drifting in the winter wind.

This is to cover up the terrible vision, to blind yourself to the sick wail. The Silent wondered if it was a terrible after-effect, a curse that had befallen him, as he had used the Ancient Forbidden Spell in the Holy Cult's temple. He felt like he was going crazy, the strange invisible thing reaching out with long claws trying to tear his heart apart.

The Silent Man stopped. Ahead, at the top of the street, he could see a dark figure emerging from a house with a red cross painted on the door. There is no doubt that this is the grotesque mask of the plague doctor. He is wandering around to blackmail desperate souls who can still afford his dubious services.

The Silent Man's hand clenched his staff, his jaw stiffened in disgust. His family died, and it was all thanks to this man. This liar will be responsible for the deaths of those people, and the silent ones will bring him to justice, so that the people here will face the true face of the poisonous snake they have allowed into.

He quickened his pace. Ahead, the plague doctor noticed the rapid approach of the Silent One. The fat, skinny man turned around and knocked frantically on the door he had just closed.

"Murderer!" The Silent One growled as he approached the Plague Doctor. "Liar!" Doctor Birdbeak turned around and slapped the hooded head of the Speechless Man with a copper-tipped club. The Silent Man's staff blocked the blow and pushed the Plague Medic back with all its might. The doctor tripped and fell down the snowy street.

"I didn't do anything to you!" Doctor Birdbeak shouted aggrievedly, his words obscured by his mask, and he raised his hands to protect himself from being hit by the stick of the Speechless Man.

"What!" The Silent One took a sip, his eyes shining with anger. "You have deceived those who believe in you! You kill the sick and weak and mercilessly plunder their families! You killed those who found you!" The Silent Man leaned down, grabbed the placket of the Medic's waxed cloak, and dragged him up. "You're a murderer, you're a liar, God testifies, you have to tell everyone before they hang you!"

The door of the house that had been visited by the plague opened. A pale, shriveled man stood in the doorway, his tired eyes staring blankly at the strange sight unfolding in front of his door. The doctor turned his spiky face to the frightened farmer.

"Help! The Silent One is crazy!" He shouted.

At the doctor's cries, a miracle happened, and the frail man rushed over the threshold and pounced swiftly on the speechless. Exhausted arms struggled to bind the Speechless Man and free the Doctor from his grasp. The Silent Man tries to get rid of the poor peasant's poor efforts, but to do so means he has to let go of his grip on the Plague Doctor.

The farmer was crying out for help, his screams echoing through the empty streets. In his panic, the peasant did not question the doctor's assertions, nor did it occur to him that perhaps it was the plague doctor, not the speechless, who was his enemy. A terrible tragedy happened - one of the victims of this liar doctor rose up to protect his tormentors.

As the peasants' cries for help sounded, heads popped out of the lifeless house, and like the peasants, they didn't care what was happening, because the fact was that the wordless were the perpetrators, and they pushed open the doors in droves and poured into the streets with farm tools.

Withered by hunger and pale by disease, they are like a herd of shadows crawling out of their graves, the faintest echoes of a vibrant community that was thriving here just a few months ago. Yet fear gave them the physical strength to run in the snow and face the man who persecuted them as a symbol of their only hope of survival.

Prior to this, the Speechless had been driven out of the streets of the town by an angry mob to protect himself from the wrath of the peasants. And now he is retreating, to protect them from his own wrath. Looking at these gaunt, frail wretched creatures, the Speechless Man knew he could sweep the entire street of thugs. None of them had enough strength to oppose him.

But this is not justice, and it will only increase the suffering that the liar doctors cause to these people. They are already miserable enough, and it will be pathetic when one needs a lie as a belief to survive, and the wordless are unwilling to add to their suffering.

The Silent One loosened the plague doctor's cloak and turned to run away. He kept running until he was back in the dark halls and sanctuary of the temple. He fell on his knees in front of the altar and prayed incessantly, and wept bitterly before the idol.

He wept for his brother and sister-in-law. He wept for his nephew. He wept for the city and its people. He was also crying for himself, for what he had done, for what he wanted to do, for what he could not do.

Voices from outside woke the speechless from their grief. He stood up in a trance and walked to the window. In front of him were tombstones and monoliths in the Garden of the Holy Religion.

The speechless woke up from their slumber. His attention was focused on a strange figure walking from graveyard to graveyard. The Speechless Man rubbed his eyes, he couldn't—and wouldn't—believe what he saw.

The man was covered in dry mud from head to toe and had a long rope tied around his neck. The thing moved in a terrible, shuffling gait, its head tilted over its shoulder, its left arm dangling beside its body. Through the creepy light of the Evil Moon, the Speechless could see that the thing was crawling with white maggots.

It's not a living person moving from graveyard to graveyard! It was nothing short of nightmarish horror, a walking corpse, a cursed undead!

The thing seemed to sense that someone was watching it. It turned, lifted its rotting face, and stared at the sanctuary window with those rotting eyes. It was impossible for the thing to see with such eyes, but when it stared at the window, its lipsless mouth made a strange smile.

For the speechless, this is the most terrifying. The Wordless cried out, his hands crossed over his face, trying to cover the terrible vision. His body swayed and kept backing away.

Moments later, the Speechless Man collapsed to the floor, unconscious from the disgust he saw.

An aversive thing, slowly, awkwardly, coming towards the temple.