Bishop Haswith spoke with a peculiar expression:
"Maybe dead, maybe still kicking. But that's neither here nor there..."
In an instant, beads of sweat popped up on Salimo's forehead as various spine-chilling possibilities raced through his mind.
Philomei's life or death truly didn't matter—the real question was whether anyone had figured out her identity as a Golden Sand Society member.
Once found out, the higher-ups would be madder than hornets.
That lord would definitely throw him under the bus immediately.
His best outcome might be getting chopped into pieces?
As for the worst...
Salimo shuddered.
Various torture methods that made death impossible and life pure hell—the higher-ups would definitely not hesitate to use them on backstabbers.
Bishop Haswith watched Salimo's terrified expression with confusion:
Could the camp's location really not have been spilled by this old coot?
To test further, Bishop Haswith laid it on the line:
