The next morning, with the sun's ascent, darkness and evil receded, and light returned to the earth. The Strigoi that had run rampant all night retreated into sewers and other shadowy, confined corners. There, they licked their wounds or savored the remnants of the night's hunt, awaiting the next descent of darkness.
Li Ang left the jewelry store where he had huddled for the night and arrived at the checkpoint bordering the Red Hook and Manhattan districts. Following the district's fall, the New York Safety Council had cordoned it off entirely. Anyone wishing to leave underwent strict screening. The method was simple, yielding results in seconds: a medical ultraviolet light scanned the skin's surface. If no wriggling, worm-like patterns appeared, it proved the person was uninfected. Otherwise, they were apprehended on the spot for isolation, or even humane termination.
Li Ang passed through safely. Compared to Red Hook, Manhattan, still under human control, was markedly more prosperous. The wealthy continued their lives of revelry and decadence. It seemed a universal human trait: refusal to acknowledge the impending disaster until it was at the doorstep.
Li Ang inquired along the way and soon arrived at St. Benedict's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue. He didn't recall the cathedral's name, of course, but among Manhattan's many churches, this was the only one presided over by a cardinal. The cardinal within, Paul, knew the whereabouts of the "Light of the Fallen."
Constructed in the 19th century, the 1.5-square-mile neo-Gothic edifice resembled a castle, a testament to the cardinal's considerable influence. Li Ang entered and directly handed a gold ring—plundered from the jewelry store the previous night—to the receiving priest, requesting an audience with the cardinal. Proof that "money makes the world go round" was a universal law. Its proven usefulness led Li Ang to privately dub it "Li's First Law."
He was swiftly ushered into the cardinal's study. There sat the cardinal, wearing a small red cap and black robes, with a long red sash around his waist. The cardinal looked up from his desk, glanced at the youth, then lowered his head to continue writing. "My child, if you seek confession, begin now. I have but five minutes for you."
"If confession were effective, why has God's holy light yet to purge the evil running amok outside?" Li Ang replied casually, seating himself in the chair opposite with a faint smile. English was the official language of the Sacred Covenant in Canglan, so communication posed no barrier.
The cardinal looked up again, this time fixing his gaze on him. "It seems you are not here for confession. Then state your true purpose."
"I need the 'Light of the Fallen,'" Li Ang said, lightly tapping the smooth mahogany tabletop.
"The Light of the Fallen is an exceedingly precious artifact. Forgive my bluntness, but you seem to lack the sufficient funds to acquire it," the cardinal replied, lips pursed.
"And what does Your Eminence consider 'sufficient'?"
"Gold worth five million dollars."
Li Ang smiled. "I possess something more valuable than five million in gold."
"Such as?"
"Fulfilling God's will—using the 'Light of the Fallen' to eradicate the Bloodline outside."
"I have received no such directive from God... Please leave. The mayor has invited me to speak at tonight's charity dinner. I have a speech to write." The conversation having stalled, the cardinal saw him out.
Li Ang rose to leave. At the doorway, he suddenly turned back. "Your Eminence, do you still hold reverence for God in your heart?" The cardinal's face darkened, offering no reply. Li Ang didn't await an answer and departed.
Did he have gold worth five million dollars? No. Therefore, Li Ang's options were to rob a vault or to rob the cardinal. He chose neither. Robbery? That was for brutes. Crime, too, was an art, especially the legal kind. He would make this sanctimonious charlatan willingly hand over the "Light of the Fallen" himself!
He spent the entire day in a still-operational coffee shop. Come evening, the cardinal departed by car for the mayor's charity banquet. In the deep quiet of the night, Li Ang silently scaled the wall and slipped into the cathedral through the back door.
He brought a gift for the cardinal—a bloodworm sealed in a glass vial. He had specifically brought it from Red Hook, passing through the checkpoint concealed within his storage space, unseen and unknown.
From the outset, Li Ang had anticipated the cardinal's non-cooperation. The cathedral lacked professional security or guards, its defenses lax, overseen only by a night watchman. With his attributes, Li Ang expended little effort using a distraction to lure the watchman away, then infiltrated the cathedral's interior. In the cardinal's study on the second floor, he found the priest who, overcome by drowsiness, had fallen asleep at another desk—the same priest who, having accepted his bribe, had arranged his audience with the cardinal.
Li Ang poured the bloodworm from the vial onto the priest's hand. Sensing the blood flowing beneath the skin, the worm instantly revived from its "weak" state, wriggling excitedly before burrowing in...
Once the bloodworm parasitized, it triggered an "aberrant" growth in the human body, eventually transforming the host into a Strigoi. The duration varied, typically within a week. Li Ang discreetly monitored the priest's condition daily. From the third day onward, the priest ceased appearing, cloistering himself under the pretext of illness. He clearly suspected infection; with newspapers and television saturated with reports, comparing symptoms was straightforward. Yet, he dared not speak out or seek external help. He knew all too well the fate of those discovered infected. He preferred to hide alone in his room, praying and confessing to God, rather than being quarantined as a monster—strapped to a hospital bed, festooned with medical equipment, a test subject until his research value was exhausted, then dissected...
As for why, among so many in the church, Li Ang chose him? Simple: he took the money; he had to deliver.
Three nights later, Cardinal Paul was praying before the statue of Jesus crucified. Suddenly, a newly ordained young priest limped out from a side door in a panic, face pale with terror.
"Your Eminence, it's terrible! Father Enoch, he... he..."
"What about Father Enoch? Has his illness improved?" the cardinal asked, attempting to soothe him.
The frail young priest gulped. "No, he... he's infected! He just killed Nunan with a disgusting tongue..."
Cardinal Paul's eyes widened. "Impossible! Enoch never went to the infected zone. How could he be infected..." His words trailed off as Father Enoch, now transformed into a Strigoi, emerged from the side door with a seemingly faltering yet ferocious gait, lunging forward.
"Your Eminence, what do we do? Enoch has gone mad!" The young priest tried to flee further, but his injured leg from the earlier escape hindered him; his retreat was slower than the elderly cardinal's.
The Strigoi's signature thick, fleshy tongue shot from Father Enoch's gaping maw, striking the young priest's throat like lightning. The stinger pierced his flesh, and he collapsed, eyes rolling back.
"Lord, save us! We perish!"
"Lord, deliver us..."
In this dire moment, the powerless cardinal's only recourse was to turn and pray to the statue of Jesus—the skill he had honed most in life, indeed, the only one he had mastered. As he prayed, despair already filled his heart. Decades in the Church had instilled awe for God within him, yet he had never witnessed a divine miracle. This was merely a desperate grasp at straws.
But this time, the Lord truly "manifested"!
"Sinner, do your past deeds warrant God's forgiveness and redemption?" A majestic, gravelly voice emanated from behind the statue of Jesus.
...