Chapter 94: The Dark Salon

"Hello, Mr. Dakholm, I haven't heard of your name before. Could you elaborate?" Anieda carefully recalled but found no recognition of this person. However, since Master Foster introduced him, this man must have significant background.

"I come from the southern kingdom of Liguria," Van Dakholm spread his hands. "I once aspired to be an actor, yes, an actor performing in theaters. But after failing hundreds of auditions and only landing a few minor roles, you know, I had enough. So now, I've devoted myself to the art industry, a certain special kind of art service."

"Special art service?" Anieda pondered for a moment, her eyes sparkling with an indefinable luster. "Very welcome, Mr. Dakholm! On behalf of the Aesthetic Society, I welcome your arrival!"

After saying this, Anieda also gave Foster a peculiar look, the president of the Aesthetic Society thought to himself that this old gentleman also had this peculiar taste.

"What are you talking about?" Once inside the manor, Foster, the master architect, still couldn't comprehend what Ryan was rambling about, nor how Anieda suddenly changed her attitude to warmly welcome Ryan's persona, "Van Dakholm."

"Hehe~ Mr. Foster, don't worry. I'm not interested in these hedonistic cultists' gatherings. However, I'm here to investigate something important. After the task is accomplished, I will surely reward you handsomely," Ryan whispered.

"What can an old man like me hope for in terms of a great reward?" Foster shook his head in resignation. He felt he had nothing to impress him, being a master architect already at death's door.

"Forget it, since this is Schultz's request, I will pretend to feel unwell and find a place to rest. Remember, young man, a true artist should never stay alone in a corner. You must always keep up with everyone's conversation! Even if you know nothing, just praise more and comment less," Foster, stroking his neat white beard, advised Ryan again.

"I understand, I understand~" Ryan reassured him confidently, making the elderly master architect shake his head in disbelief at the youth's confidence.

Inside the bustling manor, Ryan, holding a glass of red wine, quickly joined the conversation, while Foster, after sipping a bit of red wine and chatting for a while, pretended to be overwhelmed by the alcohol and found a place to rest.

Given his age, the salon's participants understood Foster's situation, and the master architect took a short nap in the resting room under a servant's guidance.

When he awoke, the art salon had already reached its climax.

To Foster's astonishment, in a corner, Ryan had become the focal point among the artists, talking eloquently to a group of brightly dressed, lavishly attired artists exhaling various perfumes and showing signs of lethargy.

"Yes, so in this process, the character I portrayed was like, the master of this."

"I transformed my home into a dungeon, and then I became the dungeon's master, equipped with a complete set of tools... I did quite well, and my guests were very fond of me."

"The price for a fist is thirty silver coins each... meaning, the guests who enjoy this service are usually too drunk and looking for some relaxation... then I would use my fist..."

"It's a long process~ you all understand," artist Van Dakholm humorously remarked.

"Oh my! Mr. Dakholm! I want to try this!" an artist said excitedly.

"Another unprecedented thrill, Mr. Dakholm, can I be your guest?" a lady's face was also full of excitement.

"Oh! Of course, we can all get enough stimulation in this process."

"Wow! This is fantastic!"

The faces of these artists and nobles were twisted with an abnormal fervor and neurotic enthusiasm as they crowded around Van Dakholm with questions, creating an incredibly heated atmosphere. Even the president of the Aesthetic Society, Anieda, excitedly said, "Oh, Mr. Dakholm, you truly are a remarkable artist."

"Yes, you see, I've invented some combinations of leather and ropes, which I think are fantastic. They're my work, and if you're interested, I can show you," Van Dakholm took out some filthy pictures, but the nobles and artists in the corner treated them like treasures, passing them around and exclaiming in admiration: "Simply a masterpiece!"

Seeing Foster appear, Van Dakholm excused himself and walked to a corner: "Master Foster, I've been invited to an underground banquet. After I enter, wait ten minutes, then send a servant to find me, claiming they need to take me away."

Foster, after a long confusion, still agreed to Ryan's request.

"Mr. Dakholm, this way, please." Thus, Ryan, led by a servant, headed to the underground club.

His recent decadent and perverse theories had already earned the trust of these chaotic cultists, who firmly believed Ryan was a kindred spirit, corrupt and degenerate.

Only Ryan knew his true purpose.

After passing through the cold, damp tunnel, Ryan attended an even more secretive banquet.

The chaos of this banquet is indescribable (for fear of censorship). "Artists" indulged in pleasure, frantically demanding to amplify societal desires through various means, seeking beauty and joy, indulging in more brutal pleasures and disgusting perverse delights. They loudly planned how to eliminate those sects emphasizing virtue and discipline, aiming to transform Marlinburg into an "absolute beauty land."

"Any sight obstructing the appreciation of aesthetics, like poison boiling in the veins, must be eliminated or transformed!" exclaimed a respected and cultured artist in the damp and cold basement.

"Agreed!"

"Approved!"

"Exactly!"

The twisted "artists" responded fervently.

"Alright gentlemen, 'white meat' is here, please enjoy!" a servant brought in a steaming pot of meat, indicating everyone to partake.

The composition and source of the meat were indiscernible from the outside. Since the meat was brought in, no one questioned what kind of meat it was or where it came from. Yet, everyone scrambled to eat it, each bite seeming like an ultimate pleasure.

Only Ryan didn't rush to eat; he appeared somewhat puzzled, thus missing the opportunity.

The white meat was quickly consumed.

A servant sneaked down and whispered a few words into Anieda's ear. The president of the Aesthetic Society regretfully approached Ryan: "Mr. Dakholm, Master Foster is looking for you. Do you plan to leave?"

"Ah!" Van Dakholm appeared surprised. "Master Foster is looking for me? Then I must leave at once."

"Mr. Dakholm, don't you want to continue playing? There's more exciting program ahead, and also 'the water of life,' drinking it can prolong life and keep you forever young!" Anieda, reluctant to see such a great artist leave, consoled him: "I can handle things with Master Foster for you."

Van Dakholm seemed to struggle painfully with his thoughts before decisively refusing: "But, Master Foster is my best friend, I have no reason to leave him. So, sorry, Ms. Anieda, I hope there will be another opportunity, and I will show you my true dark philosophy."

"That's truly regrettable. The Aesthetic Society always welcomes such excellent artists and philosophers to our art salons. This is a symbol of membership in the Aesthetic Society, I hope you will accept it." Anieda presented a purple medal, which Van Dakholm accepted with a handshake: "Thank you."

Thus, Ryan, disguised as Van Dakholm, left the Violet Manor.

Once he was at least ten minutes away from the manor, Ryan pulled out a roughly 400ml glass bottle from beneath his cloak, which he had "borrowed" as the "water of life."

The bottle contained a purple, filthy liquid with countless bubbles chaotically swirling within. Ryan could faintly see the souls of demons wailing and roaring inside.

It was hard to imagine this being the life-giving water nurtured by the World Tree in the Saint Lorenzo forest, home to the wood elves.

Indeed, the Aesthetic Society's so-called "water of life" was actually the life-giving water from the World Tree, corrupted and polluted.

The life-giving water was absolutely forbidden by the wood elves to be traded under any circumstances. They refused to give away even a drop of it, which is produced in very limited quantities each year.

However, not only wood elves dwell in the forest. The powerful beastmen tribes have been clashing with the wood elves for thousands of years, sometimes managing to obtain some of the life-giving water.

The bottle in Ryan's hands was a diluted and corrupted version of the life-giving water. Drinking it indeed could prolong life, but the user would also bear the cost of corruption.

Except for Ryan.

The primordial entity gently extended its hand.

Purple chaos energy was continuously absorbed into his body. This violent and corrupt energy was constantly transformed by Ryan into pure and clean subspace energy, which he absorbed.

Two minutes later, the polluted and corrupted life-giving water miraculously returned to its original state, spreading pure life energy within the water.

Reversing corruption, this was a unique ability possessed only by Ryan in the entire universe. As long as the subject was once a normal creature or item, Ryan could absorb chaos energy and then transform it into pure subspace energy, reverting it back to its original state under certain conditions.

The life-giving water was indeed valuable, even in its diluted form. Ryan carefully stored it away.

Finally, Ryan carelessly tossed the emblem given by Anieda onto the ground, letting it be crushed by the carriage as he pondered over the Chaotic Sect's entirety.

The main targets of corruption by the Chaotic Sect were the upper-class nobles, scholars, and artists. The Chaotic Sect didn't seem like a god of warriors; it resembled more a deity of lovers, artists, and debauchees. Thus, in some wealthy, large cities of the southern countries, the forces worshiping the Chaotic Sect were particularly strong, as indulgence and hedonism were prevalent there.

The creed of the Chaotic Sect was to tolerate all evil thoughts and attempt all sins, making it the most popular chaos deity among the idle, wealthy class. They saw the worship of the Chaotic Sect as a diversion from their affluent, compliant, yet dull lives.

Falling into the worship of the Chaotic Sect was "easy." Believers could receive greatly amplified spiritual pleasure from doing anything, including eating and sleeping, filling their tedious lives with joy once again.

However, this path of enjoyment quickly narrowed. Once devoted to the Chaotic Sect, repeating any action would no longer bring any joy or satisfaction, contrasting sharply with the immense spiritual stimulation from the first time. Unable to bear this contrast, they would desperately seek sensory stimuli. As ordinary activities no longer satisfied them, they would become increasingly lethargic and degenerate.

Driven by despair and hatred, these exhausted and resentful individuals sought help from others who understood their terrible thirst, becoming full-fledged followers of the Chaotic Sect.

Then came the corruption and decay of morals and rules, as they attempted every sin in the world to find their happiness.

This is why faith is necessary in this world. Firm faith and mature discipline can prevent corruption and fight against the darkness.

After pondering deeply for a while, Ryan refocused on the immediate matter at hand. What exactly was "white meat"?

For followers of the Chaotic Sect, could eating meat satisfy their spirit?

Don't joke. Unless it was something rare like dragon meat, what hadn't these maniacs tried?

Wait!

Ryan had a sudden inspiration.

White meat?

Spiritual satisfaction?

Rare, not easily obtainable, and needing to be shared privately, not publicly?

Ryan felt he was close to the truth.

He carefully recalled all the information collected about the Aesthetic Society so far, frantically filtering and searching for every key piece of information in his mind.

Gradually, his memory returned to that night on Twilight Street, when streetwalker Sarah shared a secret.

"I don't know when Anieda appeared and became the leader of the Aesthetic Society. Her wealth is endless. She alone has supported dozens of city art groups and built several orphanages. Although we don't like her, what she's done is not bad. It's just that the orphanages seem to have a high mortality rate, and not many children reach adulthood..."

Orphanages? High mortality rate?

Few children reaching adulthood?

Privately shared meat that brings spiritual satisfaction?

Ryan's pupils dilated.

He understood!

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