Thundercloud

The jointed, black, bamboo-like plants near the Dark Grotto were chopped down and brought over. After their outer husks were shaved away with knives, the inside revealed a powdery black filling. Bart initially thought they were doomed, since the experience they had accumulated along the way taught them that black portions of food tended to carry heavier toxicity. Even so, he followed protocol and brought this black "food" before Karen. In many ways, a captain's authority was forged little by little through such details. First, Karen had led everyone to secure their spots in the final selection. Later, he had bound the token on Ventura's behalf, all while demonstrating exceptional talent throughout the entire journey. And now, the captain personally tested whether food was edible every single time. In truth, Karen had no intention of using this to show off. Even if he ingested the wrong thing, as long as toxins only accumulated in the physical body, they could easily be purged at a church hospital once they got out. What everyone feared most was toxins seeping into and tainting the soul—that would be a catastrophic issue. Karen, however, did not need to worry about that at all. If a body reconstructed by Raniedal could be wrecked by bad food, then that evil dog back home really ought to smash its head against a block of tofu and die. Yet what he considered perfectly normal poison-testing appeared to his team members as the noble, self-sacrificing courage of a leader shouldering risk—something akin to "Karen tasting the hundred herbs." Holding freshly carved bamboo chopsticks, Karen picked up a small bite and placed it in his mouth. It was soft, glutinous, and delicate, leaving a sweet and mellow aftertaste. He swallowed and waited a moment, feeling no adverse reaction in either his body or his soul. "This is actually quite good." It tasted just like powdered black sesame paste—the packaged, instant kind that came with its own saccharin. Upon hearing this, the others immediately dug in. Before long, more than a few people wept tears of excitement. Indeed, without the slightest exaggeration, they were truly moved to tears by a mere bite of food. Anyone who had never experienced starvation would never comprehend the profound comfort and peace of mind that sustenance could bring. These black stalk plants were abundant nearby, growing far more densely than bamboo. Moreover, unlike the meager yield of bamboo shoots, the interiors of these stalks were packed almost entirely with this black filling. In other words, their food crisis was essentially solved. Furthermore, the texture of this new food made it feel like a staple grain. A staple offered deep psychological and physical solace; even if you weren't hungry, merely seeing piles of it stacked there would cause the corners of your mouth to curl into a contented smile. Before this, the bamboo shoots felt like fruit and the rat meat felt like jerky—an awkward, jarring diet of an apple in the left hand and a sliver of dried meat in the right for every single meal. Bart led Ventura and the others to begin large-scale harvesting, while Karen gestured for Mars to come over. Having just completed the soul contract, Mars looked rather haggard, with dark circles under his eyes, bearing the distinct marks of overexertion. "You can rest in a moment. Right now, there's something I'd like to ask the one inside you." "Yes, Captain." Mars closed his eyes and initiated the internal switch. Soon, he opened them again, his pupils tinged with teal, though still visibly weary. "What is your command?" Subconsciously, the ladybug had switched to an honorific. It seemed Purr's intimidation had worked wonders. "I originally planned to head to Scorching Valley next, but due to certain exceptional circumstances, I must alter my route. Do you know of any other settlements nearby where souls of high strength can be found?" Karen had initially intended to reserve Scorching Valley for Ashley, Blanche, and Sijini. Ashley was a summoner, while Blanche and Sijini were priests; the most suitable match for those three young women was a soul with high soul strength. Bart, Ventura, Iraman, and Demel had chosen close-combat souls sharing their faith; Mars, Digat, and Paxio had chosen souls adept at array calculations and deduction; Once Ashley and the other two were settled, then aside from Karen and Muri, whose choices were on hold, the trial's core task would be virtually complete. Although the entire process felt a bit mundane and devoid of grand, breathtaking drama, thrilling twists and turns were best heard as stories about someone else. Few people wished for unnecessary complications and hazards while carrying out their own duties. "Scorching Valley is the most suitable. But if you do not plan to go there, the nearest place would be the Mourning Pool." "The Mourning Pool?" "There is a settlement at the Mourning Pool, populated entirely by entities of high soul strength. They hold the pool, absorbing its soul power to temper their own souls." "Is it dangerous?" "You are being hunted by the Church of Samsara, so danger is inevitable. I am certain the Church of Samsara has stationed personnel there. However, their forces can at most control the teleportation array; they cannot possibly control the entire settlement. "Therefore, you can lead your people on foot. Once you reach the outskirts of the settlement, you can pay a visit and state your intentions just as you did here. I believe the leaders of that settlement will make the same choice I did." "I'm curious about something." "Please ask." "Aren't you afraid of the Church of Samsara?" "I am afraid, because the Church of Samsara is the premier church in this world." "Then why do you dare do this?" "Fear is fear, but not to the extent of paralyzing us from taking action. Besides, once I leave this place and step through the gate, nothing here will have anything to do with me anymore." From the ladybug's answer, Karen gleaned a vital piece of information. The strength of the Church of Samsara was not omnipotent here. While universally recognized as the greatest power, it functioned more like an alliance leader. The vassal powers below paid lip service to its authority, but they did not fear it to their very marrow. Viewed in this light, the deterrent power of the Church of Samsara in this world was nowhere near as absolute as that of the Church of Order in the outside reality. At the very least, out there, no church or faction dared openly challenge the Church of Order. Even when plotting under the table, they would first prioritize eliminating witnesses and dampening the fallout, desperate to avoid giving the Church of Order an excuse to unleash its wrath. This was actually quite easy to understand, considering that the Gate of Samsara opened once every ten years, a tradition that had persisted for countless ages. The four youths belonged to the same faith system, and Karen had arranged for Bart and the others to sign contracts with them, intending to establish a city of Order within the gate at Tagima Village to serve as a beacon for future Order believers. So who would be the primary—or mandatory—targets for every generation of Samsara trialists entering the gate? Naturally, the priests of Samsara native to the world inside. Thus, the internal Church of Samsara was essentially harvested like leeks at regular intervals. Its talented and formidable elites were continually stripped away, ensuring that while the Church of Samsara inside remained "large," it lacked crushing, overwhelming dominance. "Give me the coordinates of the Mourning Pool." "Certainly, please wait a moment." Once he had the exact location, Karen let Mars go rest. Considering the need to gather food and recuperate, Karen decided to halt here for a day. This was made possible by the swift and efficient completion of their objectives at Heisen City and the Dark Grotto, which had saved a tremendous amount of anticipated time. Still, what gave Karen slight pause was that although Scorching Valley and the Mourning Pool lay in different directions, traveling toward the Mourning Pool from their current position would actually bring them closer to Scorching Valley. Fortunately, it remained within a safe margin. Karen decided to head for the Mourning Pool, as he had very few alternatives; this entire region was simply too remote. After a day of rest and reorganization, the team set out once more. The morale and vitality of the entire group had undergone a dramatic transformation. Taking turns applying magical acceleration buffs, they made rapid progress—which was also why finding suitable mounts had proved difficult, as their overland pace exceeded that of most beasts of burden. Unless they had a sufficient number of knight order falcons, even if someone gave them motor vehicles and ample fuel right now, they wouldn't use them; in this desolate environment, there wasn't a single decent road to speak of. At long last, after arduous trekking, the team crested a mountain ridge. Standing at the summit, they looked out over the wasteland ahead. In the very center of the barrens lay a crystalline pool of water, shimmering like a mirror embedded in the earth. Karen took a sip of water, pursed his lips, and said to those beside him, "We're almost there!" *** "I feel the details of this pool are lacking," Mr. Bede noted. "I think it is plenty sufficient," Piaget insisted. "When depicting the visage of a god, we should focus on the impact and majesty of the divine presence. Very few people scrutinize the details of a god; they would instinctively regard that as a form of deep sacrilege." "No, no, no. You cannot apply conventional artistic techniques to murals. Murals do more than merely evoke a divine atmosphere; they serve as records. "To our Church of the Mural God, a mural is a vehicle of narrative. It is like a chronicle of history, recording far more through painting than words ever could. "Another point is that murals are far harder to redact and alter than written texts. "The mythologies of the major churches have been edited and rewritten across countless revisions, yet murals are exceedingly difficult to tamper with. They are history's most faithful chroniclers. "Therefore, you must depict every detail as meticulously as possible—so finely detailed that people in the future can converse with you through those subtleties, discovering what you wished to tell them and what they yearn to know." "Very well, I understand. But Mr. Bede, why aren't you the one painting this? I am merely a servant of the Church of the Mural God." "First, you have witnessed the manifestation of the Mural God." "Mr. Bede, I have always wondered: were you also in Rojia City on that day?" "Second, replicating the divine visage allows you to draw closer to the mind of the Mural God." "That I agree with." "Third, I need to hurry and finish the pieces requested by the studio proprietor, because every single one of your previous sketches with smaller busts was rejected." "I don't think there was anything wrong with my drawings. It was their lack of appreciation..." "Oh, certainly. That is the most common excuse among subpar artists—blaming the clients for lacking taste." "That's not—" "Enough excuses. Did you see how all the drafts where I enlarged that particular area passed inspection? Now I have to redraw all your rejected sketches, or else we won't be able to pay this week's rent. Worse still, tomorrow's lunch will be entirely off the table." "Understood. Thank you for your hard work." "Just focus on the mural. Remember, the Mural God's right hand holds a massive, iridescent feather, while the left holds a pool of five colors. "Much like how we hold a brush and a palette. You must pay close attention to the details of those parts. When you push the detail to its absolute limit, the divine aura will emerge naturally." "I understand. I'll take it seriously. Still, this feels utterly absurd. The god we believe in is about to descend upon the world, yet here we are, fretting over rent and lunch." "The Mural God's descent isn't meant to cover your rent or pay for your meals." "One more question." "You certainly have a lot of questions, Mr. Piaget. It would be marvelous if your questions were as plump as the chests you paint." "My question is: this is Samsara Valley. When the Mural God descends and emerges from the gate, Samsara Valley will..." "The one who sealed the Mural God was the God of Order. The one who suppressed our Church of the Mural God and branded us a cult was the Church of Order. Once the Mural God descends, the first to be punished will unequivocally be the Church of Order. "Meanwhile, the Church of Samsara just lost its war against the Church of Order and signed numerous humiliating, sovereignty-surrendering treaties. Even setting aside whether the Church of Samsara possesses the capability to oppose a descended deity, even if it did, why wouldn't it unite with us against a common enemy?" "Mr. Bede, I acknowledge that you are an exceptional artist and a devout believer." "You can skip the preamble and go straight to the 'but.'" "...But from the political mindset I observed from my father, I do not believe the Church of Samsara's stance will align with ours. Or rather, it might align before the descent, but once the great Mural God arrives... it won't." "How so?" "In an era where the gods do not walk the earth, whichever deity descends first will become the common enemy of every church." Mr. Bede fell silent for a moment, then chuckled. "You say that as if we can currently walk out into the streets and shout 'Praise the Mural God!'" *** "From now on, cease these meaningless petty maneuvers. The war was already lost, and we lost at the negotiating table as well. Resorting to such petty tricks now only makes us appear small-minded. "Once this trial concludes, the Order trialists will certainly report this upward. The Church of Order will then use it as a pretext to pressure us and extract further reparations. "In the end, we are the ones footing the bill for these pointless spiteful acts. What is the point?" "My lord, we were wrong." "My lord, we were wrong." "Such occurrences must not happen again. You must oversee this properly. It is understandable that those below harbor resentment, but that resentment should be channeled into drive and applied where it truly matters." "We heed your teachings." Romir rubbed her forehead and asked, "Have you uncovered any clues regarding the unusually wide opening of the gate?" "Reporting to my lord, we have yet to reach a definitive conclusion. However, according to ancient records, similar events have occurred in the past." "They have? How is it that I don't recall?" "It has never happened in this era. It occurred during the previous era." "The previous era?" "After the great God of Samsara established the Gate of Samsara and consigned formidable souls within, there were several instances during the previous era when the Gate of Samsara opened far too wide. Yet each time, a projection of the God of Samsara descended to force the gate shut. "We strongly suspect that the reason behind this phenomenon in the previous era was that a mighty entity inside sought to emerge. And an entity requiring a divine phantom to descend just to shut the gate was very likely..." "No need to mince words. There is nothing forbidden here. The fact that the souls of gods sleep within the Gate of Samsara is hardly a secret among our church's upper echelons. We simply do not know which god—or gods—it might be." "Yes, my lord. Therefore, I believe this incident may very well stem from the same cause. After all, the prophecy of the gods' return has circulated for a very long time." "Heh. Everyone spreads this prophecy, yet the funny thing is, as the Gatekeeper of Samsara, even I have no idea who started it." Romir chuckled, shaking her head. "Still, with the atmosphere built up to this pitch, it would almost seem improper if a god didn't descend." Silence fell below. "Very well. You may withdraw." "Yes, my lord." "Yes, my lord." Soon, Romir was left alone in the hall. She raised a hand and drew a frame in the air before her. The outline swiftly extended backward, forming a doorway, though within lay only chaotic nothingness. Yet before long, the blur inside began to dissipate. A hideous black shadow abruptly surged forward, letting out a low snarl at Romir. Its body was serpentine and immensely long, reeking of disaster, bloodlust, and savagery. It resembled a snake, yet differed profoundly from one. "Hmph!" A cold snort rang out, and the vicious black beast was instantly suppressed. A woman stepped into view within the doorway. Her features were virtually identical to Romir's. Romir spoke: "Have you still not finished taming that Qianmei?" "Sister, you know perfectly well how difficult it is to tame. Even though it is still young... Why don't we switch places? You come inside the gate to tame it, and I'll go outside to take your place as Gatekeeper?" "Enough. Which of us stayed inside and which remained outside was decided by our elders back then. I truly didn't expect you to hold onto that grudge to this day." "That's because I'm the one inside the gate, not you!" "How is the conditioning of Gaitanbert coming along?" "Him? No problem at all." Inside the gate, behind Sumir, an enormous lion lay prostrated on the ground. "Proceed with the plan. Let him help us infiltrate the Church of Order, and that piece of information can be given to the Church of Order as well." "Heh, I'm already on my way with him. The Church of Order thoughtfully bound a perceptible token to their trialist. It's just... why did your people teleport them so far away? Even using the teleportation arrays of the major cities, it will take me a very long time to reach them." "That was done by those below; I had no knowledge of it. Furthermore, I must caution you: the gate remained open for an extraordinarily long time this round. I suspect a formidable soul within is stirring. Be on your guard." "You're the one who should be careful, aren't you?" Sumir smiled. "Even if some mighty entity awakens, I doubt it will be content to quietly enjoy life inside this world." "I have already notified all levels to make preparations." "So impatient? No, are you really that frightened? Aren't you curious at all about which entity has awakened?" "Unless it is our great God of Samsara returning, no matter who awakens, it is not something we wish to see." "Then I am truly looking forward to it." "Mind your own duties." "I know, my dear sister. By the way, a descendant of yours sent me a letter under the name of the Simonsen family after entering the gate." "Peide? He is not just my descendant; he is yours as well. You and I are twins." "Heh. He asked me to help locate an Order trialist named Karen." "I remember that name. Peide was defeated by him." "The Simonsens outside really are becoming more useless by the day. What kind of trash has the younger generation of our family turned into?" "I will discipline him. In addition, ensure your identity remains concealed. If the Church of Order discovers that Samsara is involved in their recall, the entire plan will collapse." "I don't need you to remind me of that. All right, I'm stepping into the next teleportation array. I'm getting closer and closer to the target." "May fortune favor you." "You as well, Sister." Romir waved her hand, and the door frame dissolved into nothingness. Just then, a phantom shimmering with golden light materialized in the hall. "Gatekeeper, what were you doing just now?" "Elder, I don't believe my actions require a report to you." "I merely ask out of curiosity. Had I lacked respect for you, I would have broken through the temple's barrier and arrived earlier. I come at the behest of the Council of Elders to inquire about this recent opening of the Gate of Samsara." "I was already preparing to go to the Council of Elders to provide a full explanation." "The Council wishes to know: will the situation be severe?" "I cannot say, for the actions of such an entity are impossible to predict in advance. However, I believe we must make every preparation, including contingency plans for the worst-case scenario." "A worst-case contingency plan?" "If she has not awakened, but merely turned over in her sleep, everything remains under control. If she has awakened, yet fails to push open the gate and emerge, everything is likewise still under control. "Yet if she truly pushes open the gate and emerges... "Regardless of who she is, anyone who steps out from that gate was once suppressed and sealed by our God. "Furthermore... "She is bound to be famished." "Understood. I will report this to the Council of Elders. I pray the worst-case scenario will not come to pass." "I believe it is imperative to notify the highest echelons of the other orthodox churches, including the Temple of Order, so that they too may prepare." "You wish to seek their aid? Gatekeeper, do you not think such an idea is somewhat naive?" "No, not at all." Romir looked at the elder, continuing with a faint smile: "Because no one knows—and no one dares gamble on—which church's ancient enemy she might truly be."