Devon often ran into him when he went into the mountains to chop wood. Nolan, seeing his intelligence, taught him many hunting skills, especially archery, imparting almost everything he knew.

Devon was determined and resilient. Once he received guidance, he practiced tirelessly whenever he had free time. By now, his archery skills had already begun to surpass his teacher’s.

To him, Uncle Nolan was not only a close friend but also a revered mentor.

However, a good bow and iron arrows capable of hunting large beasts were expensive, and Devon couldn’t afford them for the time being.

He only had a crude wooden bow and used homemade wooden arrows, which were pitifully weak—only good for shooting rabbits and other small animals to satisfy his cravings, but not much else.

Nolan set his bow aside and asked, “Devon, you’re grown up now. Do you have a girl you like? If you do, I can go talk to her for you.”

He had watched this boy grow up and thought he had a remarkable presence, finding him very likable.

Hearing this, Devon showed no trace of youthful shyness on his face and replied naturally, “Uncle, what girl would ever fancy me?”

Indeed, no one in town was interested in him—not because he was poor, but because many people couldn’t understand his actions over the years.

This kid chopped wood, sure, but insisted on spending money to learn to read. Reading was for those noble lords—what business did a commoner have learning to read? People thought he was just wasting money and had too much time on his hands.

The townsfolk couldn’t understand the boy’s thinking and all believed he was unreliable, not fit for daily life, always daydreaming.

Naturally, no one was willing to entrust their daughter to someone so “unreliable.”

Hunter Nolan immediately glared, “Don’t I know your abilities? If I had a daughter, I’d have promised her to you long ago, just to keep someone else from snatching you up.”

Devon burst out laughing, “Come on, don’t tease me.”

He glanced at the sky—it was almost noon—so he waved goodbye to Nolan, “Uncle, I’ll head off now. I’ll come back later to help you split the wood in your yard for firewood—just give me a meal in return.”

Nolan laughed and scolded, “You rascal, as if I’d short you.”

The boy waved and bid farewell to the hunter, then continued pulling his wooden cart toward the church.

The town was small, so the boy soon pulled his cart to the church square at the center.

Several tall iron crosses stood at the edge of the square, with several charred, coal-black things hanging from them.

These were burned corpses, most of them dark monsters that had emerged from the dark forest—like trolls and lesser demons.

A few, however, were townsfolk who had gone mad after being tainted by the dark aura, and they too had been burned here.

Such incidents weren’t common in town, but they weren’t rare either. Just three months ago, someone had been burned to death—it was truly tragic.

Because it was a small town, the church wasn’t large, and only one priest resided there.

Vito Town belonged to the Storm Kingdom, and the Storm Kingdom was under the domain of the Lord of Radiance, so naturally, the priest served the Lord of Radiance.

The priest’s name was Leonard, and he had an excellent reputation. Though he had only been in town for less than half a year, he was already recognized as the most pious person in town and was highly respected.

Devon parked his cart at the edge of the square, picked up the troll’s head from the cart, and walked toward the church.

Since today wasn’t Sunday, the church was very quiet—there wasn’t a single person inside, not even the mute servant who was usually always present.

Devon was already very familiar with the church, as well as with the priest and the mute servant. Seeing no one in the main hall, he headed straight to the garden in the back.

The corridor leading to the back was narrow, and beside it was a small room—the church’s confessional.

At this moment, the wooden door was tightly shut, and faint sounds could be heard from inside—someone was apparently confessing.

Since the priest was busy, Devon naturally didn’t dare disturb him and was about to return to the main hall to wait.

But just then, a woman’s scream suddenly rang out from the confessional. Even though it was muffled by the thick wooden door, Devon, with his excellent hearing, could hear it clearly.

What was going on?

Devon had a vague feeling that something was happening in the confessional.

Don’t tell him that just because a priest is supposed to be holy, he should be selfless and as pure as a saint.

Devon had little reverence for servants of God. In his eyes, this guy was a man first, and only then a holy priest.

A man and a woman alone in a room—what could happen in there?

His youthful energy stirred up again, and a secret fire rose instinctively from deep within, a strong curiosity welling up and overwhelming his judgment, making him press his ear to the wooden door, holding his breath to listen.

He heard a gentle voice say, “Madam, committing adultery is a grave sin! After death, you’ll go to purgatory, naked, whipped day and night by demons—it’s unbearably painful.”

Inside the wooden door, the priest was describing the horrors of purgatory to the woman. With every sentence, the woman let out a soft gasp, clearly terrified.