Reality, Alliance Camp.
Qing Mu returned from the simulation, his consciousness anchoring once again in his real body. The lingering chill of the “divine whisper” in the cathedral still clung to his brow.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the churning emotions inside him, his gaze sharpening.
What he’d discovered in the simulation world confirmed his suspicions—the so-called “god,” or rather, the will from beyond this world, had noticed him long ago. It might even have set its gaze upon him from the very moment he first arrived.
He had to find a countermeasure as soon as possible.
His eyes shifted back to Yue Lan in reality. Perhaps from her, he could glean more clues about that “god,” especially the strange, seemingly close—yet actually bizarre—relationship it had with the Fengling Family and the sisters Yue Qi and Yue Lan.
He found Yue Lan in the temporary prayer room, performing her daily devotions. Sunlight filtered through the colored makeshift window film, casting brilliant halos upon her pure white Saintess’ robes, making her appear all the more sacred.
“Yue Lan,” Qing Mu tried to keep his tone calm, laced with curiosity, “I’ve recently grown interested in the doctrines of the Holy Light, especially the parts about ‘Divine Revelation’ and ‘Divine Oracle.’ Your status in the church is highly revered. I wonder… have you ever personally experienced such divine grace?”
Yue Lan slowly opened her eyes. In the radiant halo, her blue eyes looked especially clear. She looked at Qing Mu, a naturally gentle and loving smile blooming on her face. “It makes me happy that Qing Mu wishes to understand the teachings of the Holy Light more deeply.” She tilted her head slightly, as if recalling something. “Divine grace is vast and omnipresent. As for a clear revelation… that requires ultimate piety and a pure heart. When I was a child, I first felt the warmth of the Holy Light in my family’s chapel. That might count as an awakening of sorts. Later, during my path to becoming a Saintess, in the secret sanctuary atop the Sacred Mountain, after long periods of prayer and meditation, I would sometimes feel… a vast tranquility and guidance, as if my consciousness was faintly connected to some loftier existence.”
Her words were still painted in subjective embellishment, interpreting what might have been a cold contact as “warmth” and “guidance.”
Qing Mu, keeping his expression neutral, continued to probe: “That kind of connection, what did it feel like exactly? Was there a more concrete form, or… information being conveyed?”
Yue Lan gently shook her head, her smile shrouded in a sacred haze. “It’s hard to describe with words, Qing Mu. It’s more like a resonance of the soul, a confirmation of direction. The revelations of the Holy Light are rarely delivered in clear words, but are instead a calling that merges with one’s blood and soul. It made me understand my responsibilities: to guard the continent and guide lost lambs…” As she spoke, her gaze fell on Qing Mu again. That look of “guiding lost lambs,” coupled with her overwhelming “maternal love,” made Qing Mu distinctly uncomfortable.
He tried to ask for more specifics: about the inner workings of the secret sanctuary on the Sacred Mountain, or about special rituals or items used during prayer. But Yue Lan’s responses were either vague or quickly shifted back to concern for Qing Mu and “guidance,” like a mother eager to steer her mischievous child onto the right path.
It was clear he could not get any direct information about that “cold will” from Yue Lan. Her perception seemed wrapped in a warm filter—or perhaps what she came into contact with was itself the disguised form of that will?
The trail appeared to end there.
Qing Mu left the prayer room, heavy-hearted. If Yue Lan’s path was a dead end, then what about Lin Qiyou and Nong Li—both fellow “travelers from another world,” both also bound by the laws of this world? Did they sense anything during their crossing? Was there a secret related to that “god” hidden behind the price they paid?
He returned to the simulation world, made a minor adjustment to his influence on Yue Lan—meaning he treated her as he had before. Then, back in reality, both Lin Qiyou and Nong Li were present again.
He soon found Lin Qiyou, practicing sword alone at the camp’s edge, and Nong Li, lazily basking in the sun by the beast pen—though in truth, she was keenly watching her surroundings.
To avoid attracting Yue Lan’s attention, he used the pretext of discussing tactics for infiltrating the “Bone Fortress” to have a brief, discreet exchange with the two of them.
Once he confirmed their privacy, Qing Mu went straight to the point, lowering his voice: “I have a question. When you crossed into this world—or while adapting to its laws—besides feeling suppressed, did you… sense some kind of special ‘gaze’? Or, do you have any particular perception regarding the so-called ‘god’ of this world?”
Lin Qiyou sheathed her sword, a faint crease between her cool brows. She paused for a moment, as if trying hard to recall some blurry fragments. Finally, she shook her head, her tone tinged with uncertainty and confusion: “During the crossing, the temporal turbulence was fierce; my consciousness nearly unraveled. As for perception… aside from chaos and the pain of being torn apart, there was nothing else. As for the gods… the laws of this world differ greatly from those of my homeland. Their origins are unfathomably deep. But as for a concrete form or will—I can’t sense it, nor judge.” She paused, then added—this too had long puzzled her, “And, as I’ve said before, to preserve my true soul, I seem to have voluntarily abandoned some memories. Much of my perception of the crossing and its origins is already lost.”
Her answer was consistent with what she’d said before: the price of crossing was the loss of memory, causing her perception of key information to become fuzzy.
Nong Li, by contrast, reacted much more fiercely. She scoffed, a flash of hostility passing through her red eyes. “A gaze? When I first fell into this wretched place, all I felt was the whole world rejecting me—like it was going to squeeze and crush me! I didn’t feel anything else! Just felt like countless invisible chains wrapped around me, draining my power to almost nothing!” She stomped the ground in agitation, almost venting at Qing Mu. “I didn’t lose my memory, but if you want to talk about something special… it’s that when my strength was pushed to the limit, to where I could hardly hang on, sometimes there’d be a faint… very blurred, very distant ‘sensation,’ like seeing a glimmer of light through frosted glass: cold and high above, but gone in a flash—impossible to grasp!”
Lin Qiyou lost part of her memory and power. Nong Li lost most of her power, but kept her memory—and when her power was severely suppressed, she could faintly sense a cold, distant “presence.”
Qing Mu’s mind whirled, rapidly piecing together all the clues: Yue Lan perceived a beautified “warm guidance”; Lin Qiyou, due to her lost memory, couldn’t sense details; Nong Li, when her power was pressed to the brink, could dimly sense a trace of “cold glimmer.” He himself had directly endured an icy, indifferent “divine whisper” in the simulation world’s cathedral.
Lost memories… stripped power…
A shocking hypothesis struck him like a bolt of lightning piercing the fog, suddenly illuminating his thoughts!
He jerked his head up, a sharp light blazing in his eyes. Looking at Lin Qiyou and Nong Li, his voice dropped with excitement: “I might know how to find that so-called ‘god’!”
Lin Qiyou and Nong Li both turned toward him, their eyes sharpening.
“Have you ever thought about it,” Qing Mu’s words sped up, “The price you paid for crossing into this world—Lin Qiyou, your lost memories; Nong Li, your stripped powers—where did these ‘lost things’ actually go?”
The two were taken aback. It wasn’t that they hadn’t wondered, but they’d always chalked it up to natural rejection by the world’s laws or the inherent toll of crossing over.
“You mean…” Lin Qiyou murmured thoughtfully.
“It’s very possible they didn’t just dissipate!” Qing Mu said decisively. “Rather, they were ‘absorbed’ or ‘anchored’ in some way by the deep rules of this world—or, by the will of that hidden ‘god’ behind the scenes! These memories and powers, which are so tightly bound to your very origins, are incredibly special to this world! They’re like… beacons! Or offerings!”
The more he spoke, the clearer his thinking became: “If we can somehow track, in reverse, the flow of these ‘lost things’—if we can sense where they’re being ‘stored’ or ‘absorbed’—then we might be able to directly find the location of that so-called ‘god,’ or at the very least, a key nexus where it connects to this world!”
This bold theory left both Lin Qiyou and Nong Li visibly shaken. Nong Li even stood up at once, her nine fox tails taut with tension. “Track down the power that was stolen from me? How?!”
“We’ll need both a method and a medium.” Qing Mu calmed himself, analyzing quickly. “Lin Qiyou, your lost memories are formless and intangible—hard to track. But Nong Li, your lost power—though most of it’s been stripped—is a special kind of demon energy, deeply tied to your soul. Maybe… we can use what remains of your power as a lead, recreating that state where your strength was pressed to the absolute limit, on the brink of sensing that ‘cold glimmer.’ At the same time, I or Lin Qiyou could try to sense, with soul perception or some special tracking technique, the source connected behind that glimmer!”
He looked to Lin Qiyou. “Your Sword Heart is clear and bright—you’re highly sensitive to energy and causality. Maybe you can help with the sensing.” Then to Nong Li: “And you’ll need to deliberately put yourself into that state of extreme power suppression again. It will be painful and dangerous.”
A fierce glint flashed in Nong Li’s red eyes. “If it lets me find the bastard who stole my power, what’s a little suffering?”
Lin Qiyou nodded slowly as well, determination shining in her cool gaze. “Let’s try it. This method is risky, but better than being used like pawns.”
At that moment, the two women and one fox reached a consensus. An invisible bond, forged by a shared goal and the desire to expose the mastermind behind the scenes, temporarily linked these three from different worlds, despite their complicated relationships.
“We need a completely safe, undisturbed place to attempt this,” Qing Mu said in a low voice. “We’ll also need to prepare some safeguards, to make sure Nong Li doesn’t actually break down when her power’s pushed to the limit—and to cut things off if something goes wrong.”
The plan was tentatively set, a tense yet expectant atmosphere swirling among the three. They all understood: this wasn’t just about retrieving what they’d lost, but a direct assault on the truth behind the world itself. If they succeeded, perhaps they could finally unveil the greatest mystery shrouding not only this world, but also their own fates.