Chapter 628: Battle of Faith

Since ancient times, this land had seen little of peace, with dark scars lingering to this very day, yet the emissaries of the Arbiter Temple arrived bearing light.

"May the Gods dispel the gloom of this realm!" Luther intoned in a chant-like high voice; it was his first time setting foot upon this land beyond the domain of mankind.

Even though it was not spring, the wind here carried a warm breeze redolent with the scent of various blossoms, and their cities were built along both banks of the river, entwined with all manner of flora as far as the eye could see, as if it were a city born of nature itself.

They meticulously tended to these plants, keeping them neat and orderly, with pristine white gravel paths winding through the woods and clusters of architecture cascading down the mountainside without city walls, while a crystal-clear river glided through the center of the settlement—this was Audrale, the city of the elves, a name that translated to "a stream rippling with snow-white foam," hence it was also known as White Creek City.

Though the passing of time had broadened this stream into a wide, sweeping river, people still called it by its ancient name.

The elves were not a populous race, and within the Silver Moon Forest, cities of this scale could be counted on one hand; most other settlements were merely small elven conclaves, making it evident that very few humans could ever reach this place, let alone establish transport and trade with one another.

If... any human kingdom could obtain the permission of the Elven Council of Elders to construct a teleportation array and forge a pathway between them, it would undoubtedly cause a global sensation.

Saint Hines sat within the grand and magnificent temple, before him rested a peculiar chessboard, one side cast in white, carved with lifelike knights and mages, at its center stood a majestic and noble man wielding a scepter.

The other side was cast in black, its central knight raising a longsword high into the air.

The chess piece in his hand fell, a white piece descending upon the black side of the board.

The state of the game was clearly one of white dominance.

Opposite him sat an old man of divine countenance clad in priestly robes as white as pristine snow, who stroked his beard and smiled gently, "Your Excellency Saint Hines remains as consummate a player as ever."

"I hear that the fruits of Lord Duran's research have even shaken quite a few Saints?" Saint Hines remarked indifferently.

"Hahaha..." The white-haired old man laughed heartily, "At the time, they were still arguing endlessly over an unfounded proposition, but the moment they saw my humble work, their eyes nearly popped out. In this regard, I still possess a fair bit of confidence."

He smiled, appearing forever brimming with such self-assurance.

"Speaking of which..." Saint Duran noted, "Your cohort should be nearing the Silver Moon Forest by now, should they not?"

Saint Hines replied smoothly, "They have also brought along the finest masterpiece from the 'Duran Workshop'."

"Those are all the works of my disciples; I merely offered a few pointers along the way, nothing worth mentioning." Saint Duran shook his head with a chuckle, yet from his words, one could still discern a tranquil air of looking down upon all other mountains from the peak.

Saint Hines smiled and said, "With the guidance of Saint Duran, I suppose those elves are in for a stroke of good fortune."

...

To the elves, any guest was welcome; this ancient race had always prided itself on etiquette, and toward outsiders who harbored no hostility, they naturally offered a warm reception lining the streets.

For a grand visit such as this, the entire city and its avenues were suffused with a jubilant atmosphere, akin to some magnificent festival.

"Welcome, Lord Luther." The elves were friendly, provided you possessed the right to enter their city.

Cheers and the elegant strains of harp music drifted far into the clear sky, while Luther, narrowing his eyes slightly, took in his surroundings, his right hand clasped loosely behind his back as he stepped forward to greet them with a smile he deemed thoroughly sincere.

Riding a manticore unique to the temple and dressed in immaculate temple vestments, Luther cut an exceptionally noble figure.

"Elder Sivi." Luther dismounted from the manticore and bowed slightly to the advancing elven procession.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Luther." Approaching him was an elven woman whose age could not be discerned at a glance; she seemed to blend the spiritual aura of a teenage maiden, the cold arrogance of a woman in her twenties, and a mature grace all into one. A well-fitted gown of deep green accentuated her slender, elegant figure, her long golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, and upon her head rested a wreath woven of laurel and star-sky flowers, its left side embedded with three phoenix feathers, every movement of hers carrying an extraordinary elegance and refinement.

Yet her tone was rather detached: "I did not expect Lord Luther to trouble himself with a personal journey, though Your Excellency should know that we have never welcomed missionaries."

"Naturally," Luther spoke up, "But my presence in the Silver Moon Forest this time is in the capacity of a merchant; I trust the Elder will not misunderstand."

"Oh...?" The female elven elder showed a flash of surprise, "I was unaware that Lord Luther had changed vocations."

The elven race was clearly not entirely self-sufficient; even though they seldom interacted with humans, as relations between the two races continued to thaw, certain commodities still flowed between them. This freedom-loving race imposed few restrictions, and it was not forbidden for their people to serve other deities if they so chose.

However, proselytizing other doctrines within the Silver Moon Forest remained unwelcome, and though no written law forbade it, it was still perceived as a form of desecration.

"A brand-new, epoch-making cultivation realm." As the procession marched toward the Council Hall of White Creek City, Luther announced loudly, "What I bring is the latest creation from the 'Duran Workshop'. I believe an excellent piece of work is something anyone can appreciate, even the elves."

"We welcome your visit, but I believe our people possess their own cultivation realms, and we seem to have no need for foreign items in this regard." Elder Sivi clearly cared little for such things; their elven race possessed an ancient heritage and naturally held profound achievements in these matters.

Luther, however, had always possessed a silver tongue: "Perhaps... Your Excellency might try it to see if our realm is equally excellent. If it is, I imagine your lovely clansmen would not mind having an extra choice."

Sivi's gaze shifted slightly, as if she were contemplating something.

Just then, an elven man remarked indifferently, "Though I still do not believe we require these things, I feel Lord Luther makes a fair point. I think our clansmen will choose for themselves. If it truly is an excellent work, letting it gather dust would be our sin. Likewise, I believe we should have confidence in our own craftsmanship."

The speaker was a male elf who appeared to be in his thirties; he smiled, as if merely stating an established fact.

"Xuesis is right." His words clearly won the approval of many, "We shouldn't lose confidence in our own craftsmanship, should we?"

Elder Sivi frowned slightly; she could naturally hear the subtle undertone woven into Luther's words.

The elves possessed their own pride and reserve, and their equally ancient heritage of martial techniques and magic was enough to let them stand proud at the apex of the continent; cultivation realms were also something the elves took pride in, something that required no foreign importation.

Yet now, Luther had brought an equally "excellent" realm.

Contained within this gesture was perhaps not merely the intent to dump goods, but also a subtle hint of provocation.

By the time she realized this, the situation seemed to have gradually tilted in a direction she could no longer easily control.

And at that very moment, within the magnificent hall of the Arbiter Temple, Saint Hines placed down yet another chess piece.

"These elves are indeed intelligent, but their flaw lies in being overly confident and proud; when confidence and pride go too far, they turn into arrogance." Saint Duran said with a smile, "That elder is quite sharp, but the other elves may not be so, and furthermore..."

He smiled faintly, bearing an inscrutable expression: "Your Excellency's move here is brilliant indeed."

"But Your Excellency's intentions surely do not stop there," Saint Duran spoke again.

"You see through it?" Saint Hines said expressionlessly, "If it were merely to expand the distribution of cultivation realms to other races, why would I need to plan this personally?"

"This is the prelude to a war of faith." He casually placed another piece down, yet this casually placed piece seemed to carry the echo of thunder in its wake.

Saint Duran froze slightly, drawing in a deep breath with a solemn expression, as if the entire hall and the very chessboard had grown monumental because of those words.