Chapter 1028: The shadow of Dunwich (below)

The boy died silently, his neck was broken, and his body was caught before landing.
Before he exhaled his last breath, Stephen Blackhart had begun to drag the body into the maintenance compartment.
He has been nested in this pipeline for ten hours, and he estimates that he will continue to stay for another three hours before he moves next time, until this rash little guy appears.
Stillness has always been the key to concealment.
He had another strategy, which was to keep moving, so as to prevent himself from being locked.
That has its advantages, but it only applies when one has a place to go.
Right now he has no active area, he is being hunted, and if he wants to complete his mission, he must guarantee survival.
The boy gave him a chance.
He was only about fifteen years old, but his soul had fallen into the darkest corner, and Stephen Blackhart's horn from his forehead could tell that he had been completely corroded by the forces of darkness.
This depravity may have originated from his parents. Generally speaking, babies born in cult families will be baptized by evil warlocks, and they are not blessed, they are twisted curses from evil gods.
Babies growing up in such an environment will eventually become extremely cruel butchers or conspirators.
So Stephen Blackhart did not hesitate when he started, because he knew he had cleaned up a future murderer.
The dead boy wore a dark red acolyte robe with a hood, which represented the identity of his low-level priests, and this uniform was a good fit for high-level judges, because this robe usually does To be larger than the user, so that they can follow in the next few years
This uniform can be used.
He put it on flexibly, feeling a sense of disgust squeezed over the top of his head, and at the same time noticed with a detached interest that the clothes still carried the residual temperature of his body.
Before that, he had spent half an hour studying the boy's face through the eyes of mechanical insects.
But he looked at it again, trying to ensure that his facial features could roughly mimic the exhausted state of the dead man's face.
He hopes that this uniform is enough to cope with it. If someone observes closely, they may find it does not fit well.
In only a short time, he can only make a rough estimate of the size and body shape. Even in the process of finding the right time to kill the boy, there is an uncomfortable risk of error.
But he is indeed not the most professional assassin.
After disguising everything, she climbed down to the depths of the sewer network, where the tunnel was filled with wiring harnesses and pipes, and the dust and dirt told her story about how many people had been here before him.
The content transmitted from the mechanical insects forming the cordon did not show any problems.
The air temperature, noise value and vibration are all stable at the background level, and the compound eyes of the swarm show him nothing more than empty shafts, ducts and tunnels.
Everything is quiet. Here, curled up in a place so small that even a child can hardly access his space.
He needs to wait for a while and process the code in his consciousness of being divided into two.
Stephen Blackhart needs to stare at the mechanical swarm. They are looking at each node connected to his current position, but that only takes up half of his attention.
It seems good to use the rest of the brain to crack the other party's communication.
Blood worshippers also use remote communication equipment. The use of witchcraft communication is expensive and inflexible. Even if they are as stupid as they are, they know the benefits of machinery.
This naturally also gave Stephen Blackhart an opportunity, but he is one of the best cryptographers in the Kaimon Church.
He spent an embarrassing few minutes activating and figuring out how the communication equipment obtained from the dead boy worked.
Two machines penetrated the greasy machine, and encrypted communications began to wash away his consciousness.
These data are probably not high-level, the content is not strange, and there is no importance, but he is good at creating a deadly state from the details.
In addition, cracking the password also gave him something to do.
All along, the Civic Sanctuary has taken the field of science and technology and all its secrets as its own, but the traditions and secrets that became the predecessor of the Kaimeng Church have been born in the ancient long night, and they have their own undisclosed secrets.
Those ancient survivors may be in control of machines, logic, and operations, but judges are not machines, they are the powers of human reason to the extreme.
It's not just a skill, or training, or even a transformation of their brains with blades, organ transplants, and chemistry.
It is a kind of coercive force, a driving force imprinted in his body that he must add to it.
Even as a covert communication, this password can be described as complex.
Stephen Blackhart is happy to know this, and then watching it disintegrate will bring more satisfaction.
He only spent three hours.
When it was finally cracked, he let the data flow for a moment in his consciousness.
It feels like light, like fresh water, and warm air.
That portable communicator no longer accepts new transmission signals, but the communication fragments that once transmitted through it still exist, as fragmented as broken glass windows.
He immersed his consciousness in them, recording, checking and categorizing.
There is some value
"Wait a minute."
His mind suddenly stopped, and his heart began to beat wildly. Blood flows into the brain, and inferences and possibilities begin to form, combine and expand.
He must move and must try his best to leave.
Stephen Blackhart began to squeeze out from his hideout.
Once he could crawl, he began to move more quickly. When he was able to run and climb, he had turned into a black afterimage, rising from the depths of the passage.
Behind him, the body was hidden in the shadow.
It will be discovered, but by then he should have escaped.
Four mechanical flying insects trailing the channel made a buzzing sound, they landed on his shoulders, then crawled into his hair.
The rest of them have been concealed, and their silver bodies are attached to the nano garments under the robe, just like the larvae cling to the worms.
Leaving here is not a problem, but it is also not that simple.
Next is the question of time.
It is very likely that ~EbookFREE.me~ blood worshippers may be tightening their snares. The longer he stays underground, the smaller the net will become.
On the other side of the calculation, it is the fact that he is acting quickly, and the error that goes hand in hand with the rush is like a worm on a corpse.
Going too fast and taking too many shortcuts, his plan may fail.
When all the risk factors reach a critical level, it is his putative deadline for being terminated. After he kills the girl, this deadline is approaching every second.
Leaving now, his mission may be considered a failure, but a greater victory is waiting for him.
In this process, the calculations in his mind are still running, eager for more data, and hoping for a conclusion.
At the core of thinking in every acceleration, a fragment of the blood worship signal echoes and glows, like a message written in fire.
...The Patriarch has arrived in Dunwich...