Reality, Alliance Camp.
After determining the direction of the gods by using Lin Qiyou and Nong Li’s lost items as “beacons” to track them, Qingmu did not act immediately.
He knew all too well that this matter was significant and fraught with unknown risks, so he had to be fully prepared.
During this process of preparation, another thought surfaced in his mind—faith power.
Whether it was the “warm guidance” described by Yue Lan, or the vast holy light energy in the cathedral, or even the devout prayers of ordinary believers, they all seemed to point to a kind of power formed by the collective faith of all beings.
Where did this power flow to? Could it be related to the “gods” lurking behind the scenes? If he could figure out where faith power ultimately went, it might offer another way to track them, or even verify his suspicions.
And to understand the core secrets of faith power, Yue Lan, as the Saintess, was undoubtedly the best person to ask, even if it meant enduring her suffocating “care.”
He sought out Yue Lan again, who was busy processing the believers’ prayer documents.
The tent was filled with a faint mixture of ink and holy incense. Yue Lan sat upright behind the writing desk, sunlight tracing the gentle lines of her profile, making her appear tranquil and sacred.
“Yue Lan,” Qingmu tried to keep his tone sounding like pure academic curiosity, “I’ve been studying some texts on faith energy recently and have a question. When a church gathers the faith power of countless believers across the continent, where do these powers ultimately converge? Are they stored somewhere in the Holy Mountain? Or…do they flow in a particular direction or to a specific existence?”
Upon hearing this, Yue Lan’s hand holding the brush paused slightly.
She looked up, and her blue eyes first showed their usual kind smile, but then, for a split second, the smile seemed to freeze, and a hint of confusion flashed deep within her gaze.
“Faith power…flow?” She repeated Qingmu’s question, her brows slightly furrowed as if struggling to recall something that should have been familiar but suddenly became blurry. “The holy light is omnipresent. The devout prayers of believers naturally receive the response and protection of the holy light… Its power nourishes the church’s divine arts, guards the peace of the continent…”
Her answer started to become somewhat vague, as if reciting doctrine rather than giving a concrete answer.
Qingmu maintained a calm expression and pressed on, “What I mean is, to be more specific. For example, when a believer prays, does the faith power generated get transmitted to some core node through a certain ritual, formation, or particular medium? For instance…the legendary Divine Kingdom? Or a specific god?”
Yue Lan’s eyes grew more confused, even showing a faint, almost unnoticeable struggle.
She put down her brush, gently massaging her temples with her fingers, her tone tinged with uncertainty: “As for specific transmission… Rituals are of course important. Sacred images and holy emblems are bridges connecting to the holy light… As for a core node… the Divine Kingdom… Hmm…”
Her voice trailed off, and her face took on a nearly blank expression, as if her memory had simply cut off at that point.
“Yue Lan?” Qingmu called out tentatively.
Yue Lan suddenly snapped back to her senses, once again wearing that perfect yet slightly stiff, loving smile. “Qingmu, why do you always ask such profound questions? Faith is the destination of the soul. There’s no need to be too fixated on its forms. Here, look at this—news just came from the frontlines, our warriors have repelled another wave of demon attacks…” She forcefully changed the topic, picking up a document, clearly unwilling to further discuss the flow of faith power.
Qingmu’s heart sank. Yue Lan’s reaction was far from natural.
It wasn’t that she didn’t know—it was as if the relevant memories had been deliberately blurred, blocked, or even altered by some force!
As the Saintess, she ought to be privy to the church’s most closely guarded secrets, including the final destination of faith power. But now it seemed that her knowledge only stayed at a surface level permitted by someone.
This feeling of cognitive dissonance, unlike Lin Qiyou’s voluntary memory loss from transmigrating, felt more like an external, forcible intervention.
Once again, the clues in the real world became shrouded in mystery.
If Yue Lan could offer no effective information, and might herself be just a carefully manipulated chess piece—what about the simulated world?
In that earlier timeline, inside the Fengling family, was there still a hidden truth about faith and the link to the gods, not yet fully concealed?
He needed to enter the simulated world again!
This time, his goal was clear—to investigate the deep ties between the Fengling family, the church, and faith power!
His consciousness sank into his sea of awareness, connecting to the simulation interface.
*****
After the dizziness faded, Qingmu returned to that familiar room in the Fengling family mansion.
Steadying himself, he began to act.
This time, he was no longer satisfied with merely gentle interactions with the two sisters and theological discussions. His actions became more direct—and more… suspicious.
He frequently visited the family library, no longer limiting himself to the theology section, but instead poring over scrolls recording family history, ancient contracts, and even some volumes of taboo rumors and unofficial tales.
He was searching for evidence of the Fengling family’s deep binding to the church, or any record of unusual concentrations of faith power.
He “accidentally” ran into little Yue Lan several times, and the questions he asked were no longer limited to doctrine, but delved into the church’s organizational structure, the secret duties of successive Saintesses, and even rumors inside the Holy Mountain.
His behavior became “overly studious,” even somewhat aggressive.
At night, relying on his understanding of energy formations from his previous life, he even tried to quietly sense if there was any unusual energy flow within the family estate, especially energy fluctuations similar to faith power.
To the Fengling family—a traditional, ancient noble house—these actions were extremely odd and suspicious.
A downfallen, soon-to-be “live-in son-in-law” who did not focus on improving himself to be worthy of his future warrior wife, but instead spent his days buried in old documents, probing church secrets, and even behaving mysteriously…
It was hard not to draw connections.
Rumors began to spread within the family.
“That Qingmu, always muttering and sneaking around—what’s he looking for?”
“I heard he keeps pestering Second Miss Yue Lan with all sorts of questions. Even she’s been scared by him!”
“Is it possible he has inappropriate thoughts about Miss Yue Lan? Even though the second young lady is still young, her looks are…”
“Shh! Watch your words! But his behavior is definitely suspicious…”
These rumors naturally reached the ears of the Marquis of Fengling and Yue Qi.
The marquis’s face grew gloomier by the day, and his gaze toward Qingmu was filled with scrutiny and displeasure.
As for Yue Qi, the hint of respect in her heroic green eyes, earned when Qingmu once demonstrated his insight in swordsmanship, quickly turned to coldness.
Finally, one evening, when Qingmu once again tried to approach the small courtyard where Yue Lan lived alone—hoping to ask about the specifics of her feelings during prayer—he was blocked.
Standing in front of him was Yue Qi.
She wore action-ready clothes, her golden ponytail tied behind her head, her expression cold as frost.
Sharp light glinted in her green eyes, and she even held the unsharpened training longsword in her hand.
Though the sword was still sheathed, its fierce aura had already locked onto Qingmu.
“Stop.” Yue Qi’s voice was colder than ever before. “Qingmu, your recent behavior has gone too far.”
Qingmu’s heart sank, and he tried to explain, “Yue Qi, I just had some theological questions to ask Yue Lan…”
“Ask?” Yue Qi interrupted, her lips curling with an icy sneer. “You’re always in the library, digging through the family’s secrets, day and night probing the church’s inner workings, and now you want to get close to my younger sister? Qingmu, what exactly are you after? Or, what does the person behind you want to get from the Fengling family?”
Her suspicions were well-founded. To anyone, Qingmu’s behavior would seem purposeful—and deeply abnormal.
“I mean no harm to the Fengling family, and no one is manipulating me.” Qingmu tried to sound sincere. “I’m just interested in certain… supernatural phenomena.”
“Supernatural phenomena?” Yue Qi took a step forward, the hilt of her training sword nearly touching Qingmu’s chest. The pressure from this future Hero surged toward him. “Your curiosity has already unsettled the family, and disturbed Yue Lan’s peace. I warn you: stay away from my sister.”
She stared straight into Qingmu’s eyes, enunciating each word with cold clarity:
“Otherwise, I won’t mind letting you experience firsthand the ‘supernatural’ side of the Fengling family’s Gale Sword Technique—even if you are my nominal fiancé.”
A naked threat.
Looking into Yue Qi’s eyes—sharp as blades, full of vigilance and hostility—then thinking of the rumors about his supposed improper intentions toward the young Yue Lan, and now being cornered at the entrance of her courtyard…
Suddenly, he understood.
He’d been completely mistaken for some pervert with an unhealthy interest in his young sister-in-law.
This misunderstanding was… impossible to clear up, even if he tried.
He opened his mouth, but found that any explanation would sound feeble under these circumstances.
He’d been too eager to uncover the truth, neglecting the codes of conduct in this noble family and the misunderstandings it might cause.
Seeing Yue Qi’s unwavering, protective stare, Qingmu realized that the normal routes to contact Yue Lan or probe the core secrets of the Fengling family’s faith were now entirely cut off at this simulated timeline.
He let out a helpless sigh, took a step back, and indicated that he meant no resistance.
“I understand,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an indescribable fatigue and frustration.
Yue Qi still gripped the sword hilt tightly, coldly watching him until he turned and walked away, disappearing at the end of the corridor.
Only then did she relax a little.
She glanced back at her sister’s quiet courtyard, complex emotions flickering in her eyes—worry, vigilance, and a deep confusion over Qingmu’s unfathomable behavior.
Qingmu returned to his guest room, closed the door, leaned against it, and rubbed his brow.
In the real world, Yue Lan’s memories were tampered with.
In the simulation, the Fengling family was strictly guarding their secrets.
The path to uncovering the truth behind the gods and faith was bristling with thorns.
But he had not given up.
“Looks like… I’ll have to change my approach,” Qingmu muttered to himself, the spark of contemplation rekindled in his eyes. “Since the Fengling family is a dead end, then…
what about the upper echelons of the church? Or those heretical records hidden in the shadows of history…?”
The simulated world’s exploration was about to veer in an even more dangerous and secretive direction.
And the stain of being branded a “loli-con” was something he probably wouldn’t be able to clear anytime soon.
It made him want to laugh and cry, but compared to uncovering the ultimate secrets of the world, this kind of misunderstanding was hardly worth mentioning.