Chapter 578 - 28: The Daoist Skill of Nature

Chapter 578: Chapter 28: The Daoist Skill of Nature

Anvil wasn’t the only one; Tommy fell to his knees as well.

When his other men saw this, they all immediately dropped to their knees.

Rodrick ignored them.

He didn’t even spare them a glance.

Because just as the words left his mouth, he caught something in his peripheral vision.

At the living room entrance, where the morning light met the shadows, a dark figure had appeared.

Rodrick whipped around.

Murphy was standing right there.

He was dressed in the same simple, black traditional robe, his ink-black hair draped over his shoulders.

The morning light streamed in from behind, outlining his form with a faint golden halo.

He just stood there quietly, observing everything in the living room: Anvil and his men kneeling on the floor, the shivering Martha and her daughter, and Rodrick.

As if he had been there the whole time.

Rodrick immediately plastered the most respectful, most sycophantic smile he could muster onto his face.

He hurried over to Murphy and bowed, his voice tinged with an undisguised obsequiousness:

"Sir! You’ve arrived!"

Murphy looked at him without a word.

Rodrick remained bowed, the smile fixed on his face, not daring to straighten up.

After a few seconds, Murphy finally spoke, his voice perfectly calm:

"Is the Nightmare World ready?"

Rodrick’s smile froze for a moment.

"Well... Sir," his voice trailed off, "it’s... it’s not ready yet..."

Murphy stared at him. His gaze was calm, yet it made Rodrick feel as if a heavy weight was crushing his chest, leaving him breathless.

"If it isn’t ready," Murphy said coolly, "then why have you come to see me?"

Cold sweat immediately beaded on Rodrick’s forehead.

He stammered frantically, "Sir, I... I came to pay my respects! I’m already working around the clock on the task you assigned last night. The materials, the ritual, the timing—I’m arranging everything! It just... it just requires a little more time..."

He paused, then quickly added, "I also came over this morning to personally make sure the mother and daughter are all right. I was worried my men wouldn’t know how to handle things and might mistreat them, so I made a special trip to check..."

As he spoke, he surreptitiously watched Murphy’s expression.

Murphy’s face remained impassive.

He glanced at Martha and Lina, who were huddled in the corner, before his eyes returned to Rodrick.

"Do not let trivialities like this delay my business."

His voice was devoid of inflection, but it sent a chill down Rodrick’s spine.

"Yes, yes! You’re right, Sir!" Rodrick nodded profusely. "I’ll get to it right away! Immediately!"

He turned to leave but stopped abruptly.

He glanced at Anvil and his men kneeling on the floor, then back at Murphy, and asked gingerly:

"Sir, what should I do with them?"

Murphy said nothing.

He merely stood there in silence, his gaze sweeping over Anvil and his men before shifting away.

There was no emotion in his eyes.

Not anger, not contempt, not disgust.

Just... indifference.

As if looking at a stone.

Rodrick immediately understood.

He turned, his gaze landing on Anvil’s ashen face.

"Anvil!"

"As of today, you are relieved of your duties in this community."

Anvil shuddered. He looked up, his mouth open as if to speak.

Rodrick didn’t give him the chance.

"Starting today, you and your men will be in charge of the sewers. You’ll patrol them daily, no slacking off. If anything goes wrong, I’m holding you personally responsible."

The color drained completely from Anvil’s face.

Patrolling the sewers.

It was the lowest, filthiest, and most dangerous job in the community.

It meant dealing with the vagrants who crawled out of the sewers, men bearing the signs of Nightmare Transformation. It meant dealing with putrid sewage, rotting trash, and the constant threat of a Nightmare erupting at any moment.

That was the kind of work he’d been forced to do by the old-timers who bullied him when he first started out.

And now, he was being sent back to do it again.

"Sir..." Anvil opened his mouth, wanting to plead, to beg for mercy.

But Rodrick had already turned his back on him.

Anvil looked toward Murphy.

The figure in the black robe stood silently, as if everything happening had nothing to do with him.

Anvil’s lips moved, but he didn’t dare to utter a sound.

He suddenly recalled the look in Murphy’s eyes the first time they had met.

Those pitch-black, bottomless eyes that looked at everyone as if they were nothing more than stones.

’So that’s what it was. I really am just a stone.’

’A stone to be kicked aside, discarded, and forgotten at a moment’s notice.’

...

「The backyard of Anvil’s residence.」

It was a modest yard, paved with bluish-gray flagstones. A few nameless flowering trees grew in a corner, dotted with sparse white blossoms.

At Rodrick’s direction, a new group of people now occupied the house.

Several maids in clean linen clothes stood quietly at the edges of the yard, their heads bowed as they awaited instructions.

Two guards stood ramrod straight at the entrance to the yard, their eyes scanning the area warily. They weren’t there to protect Murphy, of course, but to prevent him from being disturbed.

Murphy himself sat in a wicker chair in the middle of the yard.

The warm sun shone down from above, bathing his black robe in light.

He looked like any ordinary person enjoying the afternoon sun.

This version of Murphy was a far cry from his other avatar—the one who had refined the Mind Furnace into a Lifebound Magical Treasure.

As a result, his thought processes were colder, his emotions were minimal, and his approach to problems was much more direct.

But he was still Murphy.

He still possessed the auxiliary processing power of the Mind Furnace, as well as the vast knowledge contained within Celestial Craftsmanship "Slightly Accomplished".