Pacifica State, Center City, the Light of Truth Building.
Pope Irose of the New Light Cult sat upon a high dais wearing a silver mask, listening to an orchestra rehearse a newly arranged holy suite.
One of the lead vocalists harmonized exceptionally well with the music, blending seamlessly into it. The voice was gentle at first before swelling into a soaring pitch, naturally calling to mind the first ray of light breaking through the morning mist.
Every single note was imbued with a sacred and solemn cadence, ethereal yet full of power.
Halfway through, however, a prompt chime sounded from within his mask. He raised a hand, and all the musicians stopped at once.
The adjunct of rites waved a hand, and the performers rose, bowed deeply, and filed out in an orderly fashion while making as little noise as possible.
"Your Holiness," the adjunct of rites said, "the light you uphold pierces the dark mists, illuminating our path and revealing the future—"
Only after a string of praise did he come to the main point:
"Yesterday, the Federal Government invited our representatives. They have resolved to attack the Tianji Sect, just as you prophesied—"
No expression could be seen on Irose's mask. After praising the pope for a bit longer, the adjunct of rites lowered his head deeply. Then, a voice drifted down from above: "What does the Federal Government want from us?"
"The Federal Government hopes that the operation against the Tianji Sect will be carried out under the names of our New Light Cult and the Primitive Sect," said the adjunct of rites.
"They promised that if we agree, they will favorably consider the conditions we proposed earlier."
Irose sat there quietly. He knew very well what the Federal Government was aiming for. Beyond avoiding an overt disruption of the international status quo, they also wanted to minimize their own risks.
The Tianji Sect, after all, possessed a power of the upper tier. If the operation succeeded, the resulting spoils would never fall to the cults; yet if something went wrong, they would be the ones forced to bear much of the cost.
"What word is there from the West Coast Council?" Irose asked.
"Their position aligns with the Federation's," the adjunct of rites replied. "Several federal congressmen have also expressed their hope that we will accept the government's terms as soon as possible."
Message after message flashed across Irose's mask, all tactful suggestions sent by congressmen of the West Coast Faction.
Their attitude was still polite for now, but he knew that if he delayed his response, veiled coercion and inducements would swiftly follow.
He slowly raised his head, glanced at the blazing torch atop the building, and said, "Tell them we agree."
He had no real choice. The New Light Cult was deeply intertwined with the West Coast Council. In urging him to step forward now, the council was hoping to seize the greatest share of the spoils once the Tianji Sect was dismantled. That was why the West Coast had not only refrained from rejecting the Executive Administration's proposal, but had gone out of its way to press him into accepting.
The Primitive Sect, without a doubt, was backed by the East Coast Faction. He recalled that the Primitive Sect did not seem to have a Saint of its own,
meaning most of its gains would likely be seized by the East Coast Faction.
Moreover, since the East Coast Faction was currently in power, the greatest political capital would also fall into their hands. The West Coast Faction surely understood this as well; for them to be so eager regardless meant the East Coast Faction must have promised them a great deal this time.
"Has anyone from the Primitive Sect contacted us?" he asked.
Bowing, the adjunct of rites said, "We have received no word yet, Your Holiness. Should I arrange for someone to reach out?"
Irose seemed to ponder for a moment before answering, "Do so. Have them pass a message to the Primitive Sect stating that I wish to meet their Bishop Morton to discuss certain matters in private."
***
In the waters off the Federation's eastern coast, the Tanli Archipelago.
Archbishop Cyrus Morton of the Primitive Sect, clad in bishop's vestments, was presiding over a grand ritual.
Nearly all the sect's core leadership were present, guiding over a thousand believers in chanting an obscure rite with a strange cadence.
Across every island in the archipelago stood ritual stones carved with symbols. Resonating across the distance, they formed an invisible field that drew and channeled an indescribable power toward the main island.
Beneath a deep gray sky, amidst the vast chanting, a fissure suddenly ripped open above the altar, and within it, a contorted shape could be seen flickering.
Fervent light ignited in the eyes of all the believers, and every one of them dropped to their knees.
High atop the altar, seven figures stood quietly behind Morton like his shadows.
Morton took slow strides toward the fissure. Yet just as he drew near that contorted shape,
the bodies of three among the seven figures behind him suddenly began to swell. An invisible power stretched and kneaded them with reckless abandon, and after only a few breaths, they exploded with a loud bang into a spray of shredded flesh and blood.
Morton could not help but halt in his tracks. The fissure flickered several times before snapping shut, and the chanting abruptly ceased.
He glanced back at the gory mess on the ground, knowing that these three newly acquired vessels were still substandard.
The purer the embodiment of primal desires, the better. The original seven had taken him decades of painstaking search to find, yet now that he was short three, several of his communion and advancement rituals could not be completed.
Desire, however, could not be suppressed; it had to be unleashed as fully as possible. Thus, each vessel possessed a will of its own and could never be kept entirely under his control at his side.
In the past, with a vessel's own capabilities combined with his spiritual attachment, encountering danger had been virtually impossible. He had never expected to cross paths with someone suspected to be a Child of Gold, which had resulted in successive losses and now even disrupted his rituals.
Yet the more this happened, the more intrigued he became by this Child of Gold, and the more he longed to turn the youth into his vessel.
At that moment, a bird's cry rang out from the sky. A fiery red osprey with flamboyant crest feathers descended, perching atop a ritual pillar.
Morton glanced at it. The implant in the red osprey's eye transmitted information directly to him. Intrigued, he murmured, "The Tianji Sect, is it...?"
He stared at the bird for a while longer, reading the rest of the contents. Seeing how important the transmitted message was,
he temporarily suspended the ritual. The believers bowed to him with hands clasped in salute before dispersing from the plaza in good order.
Morton returned to the temple on the island and summoned all the external directors responsible for non-sect affairs.
Once everyone had gathered, one of the directors spoke: "Archbishop, the Federation demands our reply within three days."
"Also, Pope Irose of the New Light Cult has sent an emissary, expressing a wish to hold a private meeting with you, Archbishop."
"Our fellow adherents serving in Congress have sent word that this is a joint decision between both the East and West Coast factions. The Executive Administration intends to push this forward by force. If we refuse to comply, they will find ways to replace us with people who will."
After the directors finished reporting their news from all sides, silence fell over the hall. Every one of them clearly sensed that the Federation's stance this time was resolute—unlike anything they had seen before, leaving no room for compromise or maneuvering.
Morton reached up, took off the mask covering his face, and revealed the visage of a middle-aged man. He possessed high cheekbones, sunken eye sockets, sharp eyes, and an impressively hooked nose.
Yet judging from his overall facial features, he was not of federal descent, but bore the classic look of the First People.
Addressing the directors, who kept their heads bowed, he said, "Then reply to the Federation that the Primitive Sect agrees to participate in this operation. In addition,
have the New Light Cult's emissary inform Pope Irose that two days from now, I will await his arrival at the Old Sect ruins in Eimond State."
***
Huansuo Island, headquarters of the International Investigation Delegation.
At the center of the island stood clusters of stone buildings in the Ancient Yono style. Sculptures, colonnades, fountains, and circular amphitheaters dotted the surroundings; classical aesthetics suffused nearly every corner of the island.
Despite being isolated in a high and cold region, the courtyards were shaded by lush trees and teeming with blossoms and leaves, presenting a vibrant scene of life throughout.
This was because, as a former headquarters of the Grand Alliance, the site had been fortified with esoteric rituals arranged by the collective efforts of nations around the world. A world-rare Tier 1 relic had also been placed here, ensuring a pleasant climate all year round.
Krofens Meteora, leader of the International Investigation Delegation, sat casually upon a broken stone pillar, looking over a formal notice from the Federation.
His face was resolute, his body packed with dense muscle, and he wore an Ancient Yono robe. When sitting motionless, he looked like a flawless sculpture.
Several elders and senior counselors from the delegation stood around him with anxious expressions.
"The Federation has already decided to go through with this, and though they have pledged not to damage the Ring of the World, they refuse to disclose any details to us."
A young senior counselor said indignantly, "I pressed them repeatedly, but received no reply at all. They have no intention of answering us, and they have never respected us!"
Those present looked at one another, filled with helplessness, for this was the simple truth.
The International Investigation Delegation could exert a certain amount of influence over ordinary small nations, but when dealing with powers like the Federation or Great Shun, they usually had to borrow leverage from one side when confronting the other.
Now that the two superpowers had reached an agreement, there was nothing the delegation could do; they could only choose to accept it.
Yet they all felt deeply uneasy. Once this precedent was set, other nations might follow suit and cast them aside in the future, which could completely destroy the international order that had persisted since the collapse of the Grand Alliance.
An elder said in a heavy voice, "Since things have already reached this point, Delegation Leader, we can only endorse this operation. If we fail to speak up in time, the blow to our delegation's prestige will be even greater once the deed is done."
Meteora rose from the broken pillar. He stood more than twice as tall as the people around him, towering there like a giant, appearing as if a mighty god had stepped straight out of myth and legend.
In a deep, resonant voice, he said, "The world's order must be maintained; the Ring of the World must not suffer harm. Prepare an airship bound for the Federation."
The elder was startled, yet also grew somewhat excited. "The delegation leader is going to the Federation in person?"
Meteora said in a low voice, "Order is maintained through strength, not by relying on the charity of others. What they wish to see, I will show them."
Chapter 1285