Chapter 609: Congratulations on Passing the Test

Chapter 609: Congratulations on Passing the Test

"Grand Priest, we are ready. We can depart at any time."

"I see."

Facing the inquiry from his captain of the guard, Mobiten Benda, the Grand Priest did not give a definitive reply.

Just then, a black crow flew in from the distance. As it passed through the successive lines of blockades in front of the temple, the black crow transformed into different appearances from time to time. Clearly, the crow was merely a guise used to shroud its true form.

As it drew near, the crow touched down, transforming into a plume of black mist before swiftly coalescing into the shape of a girl. She possessed an exceptionally slender figure that carried the allure of a water snake, and her eyes, in particular, resembled a pair of purple amber gems.

Mobiten knew her identity: Daina Kafe, the Grand Priest's adopted daughter. It was said that her father had once been a follower by the Grand Priest's side, but he had already passed away. Had he still been alive, his status might not have been inferior to that of Foden, the current Whip-Wielder.

Daina dropped to one knee and reported, "Grand Priest, all preparations are complete."

"Mm."

This time, the Grand Priest moved, stepping down the stairs.

Today, he wore neither casual attire nor the traditional divine robes, but rather the ceremonial vestments donned only during sacrifices. Black remained the dominant hue, embroidered with gold and silver borders, exuding an air of poise and grandeur.

The Grand Priest stepped into the carriage; Mobiten followed him inside, while Daina remained outside.

The Grand Priest looked at her and said with a faint smile, "Come together."

Daina immediately leaped onto the carriage.

Soon, a colossal phantom of a tortoise manifested beneath the carriage. The carriage floated up, and along with it, the guards on both its flanks took to the air as well.

"Have you been faring well at your Uncle Da'an's place?" the Grand Priest asked the young girl beside him.

Daina shook her head and said, "I missed out on the war against Samsara. It almost made me cough up blood from frustration."

"You, you are exactly like your father in this regard. Every time he missed out on some excitement, he would beat his chest and stamp his feet."

"Grand Priest, I just feel so stifled. In previous years, when I begged you and those uncles and elders, they only ever told me to study, study, and study some more. I listened to them all earnestly, but now that I'm this old, I really can't hold it in anymore."

"Want to go outside and see the scenery?"

"Yes."

"In truth, after you have seen the scenery outside, you will only yearn to return home even more."

"Grand Priest..."

"If you truly find it so stifling that you cannot bear it, then go find Foden. Keep him company and catch some ants."

"But Uncle Foden doesn't catch ants anymore. Last time, I caught some rare ants in the crevices of the volcanic rock behind the camp and wanted to give them to him, only to find that the secretary who originally helped him collect ants was no longer there."

"Oh, is that so."

"Yes. I asked Auji where she went, and Auji replied to me: 'Tastes like chicken'."

"Perhaps your Uncle Foden has simply changed his hobbies."

"So, Grand Priest, I beg of you..."

"Very well, I promise you. Wherever you wish to go and play, just file a request with Mobiten. Once you obtain his consent and he has arranged the personnel, you may go;

but there is one thing you must remember: if you slip out covertly even once, it will be impossible for you to step out of the door ever again."

"It will be impossible? But I am bound to grow up after all, hehehe."

An innocent and lovely smile blossomed on Daina's face, but the Grand Priest's next words caused her smile to stiffen slightly:

"In our eyes, you only need to grow up safely and spend this lifetime in peace; that is the greatest solace to your father. To that end, we could even fabricate a separate inner world just for you."

Daina fell quiet, speaking no more.

An inner world was equivalent to a colorful... cage.

The carriage ridden by the Grand Priest flew before the Gate of Order, and beneath it lay the garrison of the knight order.

At this moment, the knights below were fully deployed in their gear, every branch of the military stood ready, the war machines were arrayed, and the war beasts had their first layer of chains undone. This dense, murderous aura could be vividly felt even from above.

This was a knight order newly transferred to complete a rotation. Its commander was Da'an Lei Ropu. After the new Grand Priest took office, he had placed Da'an, who had originally been by his side in charge of his personal security, into the knight order as a deputy commander. Last month, the former commander retired, and Da'an officially became the commander of this knight order.

Daina had come earlier precisely to pass on the message; Uncle Da'an was already prepared.

The carriage flew into the Gate of Order,

This was a threat, an unveiled intimidation, and if he truly were the successor of Lord Tyrannus, he indeed possessed the ultimate power of judgment over the entire Doctrine of Order, and even the Cult of Order itself.

For it was he who had founded the Cult of Order.

In the earliest version of the mythological narrative within the Light of Order, it was recorded with stark bluntness: The Temple is but a kennel to guard the hearth and home of the Cult.

However, in this current epoch where the gods did not manifest, the power of the Temple had gradually come to eclipse that of the Church. Consequently, in later published editions of the Light of Order, this description had been amended to: The Temple is the supreme line of defense protecting the Cult.

The High Priest stepped into his carriage. The white-haired elder bowed once more to see him off, and the Temple elders flanking him all bowed in unison as well.

Once the carriage had departed, one Temple elder spoke up in dissatisfaction, "He is far too arrogant."

The white-haired elder cast a sideways glance at him, and that Temple elder immediately took a half-step back, lowering his head.

"Very well, return to your respective Temples. I shall go and report the outcomes of our meeting." A black, starry crest materialized beneath the white-haired elder's feet, and his entire form vanished from sight.

Yet, in the very next instant, he materialized deep within the Temple where he resided, having failed to go upward to report as he had previously claimed.

Because before this meeting had even commenced, he had already received directives from above, granting him full authority over the matter.

This included that very Temple Reform Proposal, which placed further, meticulous constraints upon the powers of the Temple while expanding and detailing its responsibilities.

Though this would not directly alter the status of the Temple within the Cult, the precedent had now been set.

Perhaps a thousand years from now, the Temple would be reduced to nothing more than an ordinary system within the Cult.

When the meeting first began, the elder had also argued his case, preparing highly detailed arguments for the purpose. In truth, the moment the Temple was willing to sit down and seriously debate with the High Priest, it meant the Temple was already out of options.

But the High Priest had merely offered a single, exceedingly simple reply, reducing the remainder of the meeting to a mere formality where he spoke and the others recorded.

He said:

"A kennel, why ever would it need to be furnished so opulently?"

…

The carriage returned to the steps of the Holy See's central administrative palace. The High Priest stepped down from the carriage and walked into the palace, while Dana actively pestered Morbiton, demanding he specify the location for her excursion in accordance with the High Priest's instructions.

…

"Look, your clone has returned."

Above the central administrative palace, there was a carved-out precipice, from which a waterfall cascaded down into a pool below. Beside the pool stood chairs and a tea table.

Those below could not see the scene above, yet those above possessed a clear, sweeping view of everything below.

Here, the severing of space tested not technical difficulty, but merely the bounds of imagination.

At this moment, a man and a woman sat upon the two chairs by the pool. The man was Norton, and the woman wore the divine robes of the Cult of Principles.

The High Priest, dressed in his formal attire, walked past below and arrived before his desk situated at the very center of the area. He opened his arms, and the attendants on either side stepped forward to help him shed his formal robes and change into casual wear.

Immediately afterward, the channels—now totaling thirty-six light bands with the newly added routes leading directly to the central desk—illuminated once more. Administrative personnel from various systems and departments traversed these thirty-six paths toward the desk area to report their work to the High Priest.

There was no need to approach closely; upon entering the red-line zone of the paths, even if they were still some distance from the High Priest’s desk, they could directly verbalize their reports,

Heiman took a deep breath and asked, "Lord Tyrannus returned early just to prepare for this?"

"Yes." A smile appeared on Norton's face. "He returned to make preparations for the descent of the gods. When they return, the world's order will face a grand reshuffling. Whoever can truly foresee the time and prepare in advance will secure the advantage in this upcoming upheaval."

"Since you knew this, Norton, why do you still choose to oppose him?"

"The return of the gods naturally includes the return of our own God of Order. The vast majority of his preparations are meant to welcome the re-descent of Order."

"Is that... not as it should be?"

"It is not."

"Why?"

"Because above order... there is no need for a god."

...

"Vernon, how about a drink after work?"

"No, thank you. I have to volunteer at the school after our shift."

"Good heavens, Vernon, have you forgotten how many crates we hauled today? You actually have the strength left to do free labor after hours?"

"I gave my word. I am sorry, but how about tomorrow night instead?"

"Fine, fine, of course. Goodbye for now, then."

"Goodbye."

Vernon walked out of the docks. Following his usual habit, he did not rush home or straight to the school, but instead made his way to the shantytown adjacent to the harbor, a place inhabited mostly by dockworkers and their families.

Men like Vernon, who could write, cipher, and keep tallies, could secure positions as clerks. Although they were still expected to help haul cargo when the docks grew busy, their wages were considerably higher than those of ordinary laborers.

Furthermore, whenever business slowed, the foremen would dismiss the common workers but retain men like Vernon. The former were easily found; one could simply hire them on a temporary basis whenever the need arose. After all, bankrupt souls and illegal immigrants outnumbered the stray dogs on the streets, and tossing a single bone was enough to draw a crowd.

But men like Vernon, who kept the docks running efficiently, were not so easily replaced on short notice.

The street was a chaotic maze, slick with sewage and thick with a fishy stench. There were many such enclaves hidden away in the corners of York City.

Yet they did not hide themselves by choice; rather, the city-dwellers who walked the grand avenues possessed eyes that automatically overlooked such places.

Stepping into the largest general store in the quarter, Vernon was greeted by the round, jovial proprietress with a smile.

"Madam, I shall need to borrow your handcart in a little while."

"Of course, Vernon. But truly, do you never consider saving a bit of coin for yourself? You must find a girl and marry eventually, after all."

"I feel there is no great rush in the matter."

"No rush? How can there be no rush? If you have not a single coin saved, what manner of girl would have you? Even if they learn of your good deeds, they will do no more than sigh and say, 'Ah, what a good-hearted man you are,' before waving their handkerchiefs and bidding you farewell. And I speak of the schooled lasses. If you wish to marry an illegal immigrant girl, it would certainly be simpler, though you would have to fret over the color of your future children's hair."

"Thank you for your kindness, Madam. I shall take this sack of flour, the bread, the olive oil... and these things as well."

"Very well. That comes to a total of one thousand eight hundred and ninety Reals."

"Madam, I have only one thousand eight hundred Reals on my person. Might I put the rest on account? I shall settle the remainder when my wages arrive next month."

"Very well, it is no trouble. Though I should never permit my own daughter to court you, I am perfectly willing to extend you credit."

"My thanks to you, Madam. You possess a kind heart yourself."

The purchased provisions and household goods were settled upon the cart. Vernon pushed it deeper into the slums. A good number of ragged, dirt-caked children caught sight of his arrival and rushed toward him with excitement. None attempted to filch anything from the cart; instead, they all lent their small hands to help him push, for it was clear this scene had played out many times before.

Vernon knocked upon a door, from which emerged a middle-aged man leaning heavily upon crutches. Both his trouser legs hung entirely empty.

His name was Arif. Four months prior, he had been a loader in Vernon's own crew, until an old, frayed rope snapped and a descending cargo container crushed him.

Yet he remained remarkably cheerful, often declaring it was the protection of the gods that allowed him to survive with only the loss of his legs, whereas three of his fellow workers had been ground directly into paste.

"Ah, Chief, you have come again," Arif said, greeting Vernon with a smile. "I had a premonition you would arrive today, for when I awoke this morning, it was the sunlight streaming through the cracks in the roof that rouses me, heh."

"Arif, see to it that these are distributed to those in need. Furthermore, inform those who require a follow-up examination to come to me at once. The rest need not come today."

"What? Will you not stay for supper at my hearth, Chief?"

"I must go to the school shortly. My sister wishes me to help mend the roof and windows of the schoolhouse. Winter is fast approaching, you see, and Helen does not wish the children to study in a classroom filled with drafts."

"Ah, quite right. That is indeed a matter of grave importance."

Vernon took a seat inside Arif's home. The yard was large, yet it appeared exceedingly cramped, cluttered as it was with various odds and ends. One by one, those who had previously sought his medical aid formed an orderly queue and stepped inside.

Vernon charged no fee for his consultations here. Even so, for many of the unfortunates in this quarter, the cost of apothecary medicine remained an insupportable burden. To that end, Vernon made every effort to prescribe traditional herbs, which were vastly cheaper.

The folk here spoke highly of Vernon's medical skill. Many found their ailments truly relieved after his treatment, a circumstance that had once drawn outsiders seeking the miraculous physician.

Yet Vernon refused to treat anyone from the world outside, and he enjoined the locals to conceal his medical practices as best they could. In Vernon's own words:

"Oh, you must on no account spread word of me. I practice without a license, and they should throw me in gaol!"

Having tended to the last of his patients, Vernon rose to his feet, preparing to make his way to the school. But upon reaching the threshold, he discovered a row of men standing waiting outside.

Arif smiled and said, "Chief, they came of their own accord. There is no work to be had at the moment anyway, so let them accompany you to mend the schoolhouse. After all, when these children grow a bit older, they too shall attend the school where Mistress Helen teaches."

"My thanks to you all, then. Pray, follow me."

Vernon led the band of men to the school. It was a private institution, yet unlike the conventional sort that surpassed public schools in refinement, the conditions here were primitive in the extreme. The school possessed but three teachers, Helen being one of them, and more often than not, its expenses were sustained entirely by street collections.

Many hands made quick work. Before the clock struck ten, the men had restored the roof, doors, and windows. It was not a grand sight to behold, but at least they need not fear the winter winds.

"Stay for supper, all of you. I shall boil noodles for everyone," Helen called out warmly. Her home, which she shared with Vernon, stood just beside the schoolhouse.

"Splendid, for I am truly famished."

"Haha, we look forward to it."

Vernon stepped into the kitchen and asked, "Is there flour enough?"

"There should not be quite enough, but I purposely purchased a sack of breadcrumbs today. It will be the same if we dip them in the broth."

"That is well, then."

"Go and fetch some coal briquettes for me."

"By your command, my sister."

Vernon walked out, and after a short interval, he pushed open the kitchen door once more.

Helen looked toward him, and seeing his hands empty, she asked in bewilderment, "Where are the briquettes?"

"There is no need to prepare so much. They have all slipped away in secret."

"Oh, I ought to have stayed outside to watch them."

"Yes, it was my oversight."

"We shall mind it next time, then. Tonight we shall have tomato noodles; there is still one tomato left here."

"Boil a bit more broth, for I am fond of it."

"Is it not rather because one does not easily feel full without the broth? Heh."

"Helen, you ought not to speak so plainly, else I shall find myself unable to deceive my own belly, haha."

"By the way, do you still remember that student with the eye disease I told you about last time?"

"I do. It was a little girl; you said she was remarkably gifted in arithmetic."

"Yes. Her condition has worsened. If she doesn't receive treatment soon, she may spend the rest of her life in darkness."

"Oh, that is truly a tragedy. Unfortunately, we simply don't have enough money to send her to the hospital for surgery."

"But, the truth is, I have a way to heal her."

Vernon paused for a moment, then asked, "But do you realize the consequences of doing so? It means we will fail the trial he left for us."

"I know, but I feel that failing a trial is nothing compared to a girl's eyesight for the rest of her life. If I don't treat her now, she will never see the light again."

"Have you made up your mind, Helen?"

"Yes, I have."

"If your mind is made up, then go ahead and do it."

"Huh?" Helen looked at Vernon, thoroughly perplexed.

"What is it?"

"I find it strange. Actually, this idea has been brewing in my mind for a long time, but I always assumed that if I told you, you would try to dissuade me."

"Dissuade you? Oh, certainly not. Besides, I have a secret to tell you."

"A secret?"

"The truth is, I also see patients at Arif's place. But sometimes, simple medicines and herbs do nothing to ease their illnesses, so I slip into their homes at night and use light magic to heal them.

Take Arif's case, for instance. If I hadn't stepped in to treat him, he would have died of a wound infection long ago."

"You..."

"What, surprised?"

"You stopped caring about the trial a long time ago?"

"The trial? To hell with the trial! I couldn't possibly allow those poor souls to perish in agony right before my eyes—especially when I possess the power to save them!"

"It seems we've both failed, then," Helen said with a soft laugh. "Perhaps that's exactly why he never came back for us. In his eyes, we are both failures who couldn't pass the test."

"Most likely. But I have no regrets. This is precisely what the Light is meant to do—to give hope to those living in misery."

...

"Why do I get the feeling that Cullen simply forgot these two little babies of Light even existed?"

Sitting in the car, Neo couldn't help but speak up after listening to the conversation between Helen and Vernon in the house opposite, which was broadcasting through the radio.

Alfred remained silent, his hands merely continuing to adjust the car radio.

Neo continued to Alfred, "Right? You think so too, don't you? Cullen just wanted to shake off these two burdens of Light back then, so he deliberately tossed them a random trial just to brush them off, right?"

"Are you still listening?" Alfred asked.

"No more. Come on, let's head down."

"Alright." Alfred turned off the radio, opened the car door, and stepped out alongside Neo.

"So I think that kid's personality is just like that. He always acts so perfectly proper no matter who he meets, and then he turns around and politely forgets all about them.

What kind of nonsense is 'living in this city without using the power of faith'? That clichéd trial is everywhere in the mythological tales of every religion, yet these two idiots actually believed it.

Sigh, how could he have the nerve to use such child-tricking words? I certainly wouldn't have the face to swindle people like that."

Scolding all the while, Neo pushed open the door to Helen and Vernon's house,

And then, spreading his arms wide,

With a face full of radiant, enthusiastic smiles, he shouted:

"Praise the Light! You have finally realized the true essence of the Light. Congratulations, you have passed the trial!"