Monday was the day of the Council of Saintesses, the perfect opportunity to test the waters.
Under the Crystal Dome of the Hall of Deliberation, the thirteen seats of the Saintesses were arranged in a semicircle.
Liang Lai sat in the third seat, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the cornflower embroidery on her sleeve that she had just stitched yesterday.
“Regarding the new discovery in the Underground Sanctuary, the abandoned infant that was sent back,” the voice of the First Saintess, Margaret, echoed through the hall, “the Triumvirate of Saints has decided to make it into a ‘Living Sacred Artifact’.”
Liang Lai jerked her head up.
Beside her, Dolosa suddenly clutched at the hem of her holy robe, the little girl’s nails nearly piercing the fabric.
“Excuse me…”
Liang Lai raised her hand, the Crystal Hair Ornament in her silver hair chiming softly.
“What is a ‘Living Sacred Artifact’?”
The entire Hall of Deliberation fell silent in an instant.
Beneath her mask, the lips of the Second Saintess, Yolanda, curled into a mocking smile.
“The Third Saintess doesn’t even know this? It’s when the flesh and blood of those impure mongrels are fused into the crystal, to make—”
“Is it using infants as weapons?”
Liang Lai stood up abruptly, and Dolosa saw the second layer of her Golden Pupil contract violently.
“This is not in accordance with…”
“In accordance with what?” Margaret suddenly interrupted her. “With your Doctrine of ‘May the Lord Bless Your Appetite’?”
A wave of suppressed laughter rippled through the Hall of Deliberation.
“Your thoughts are too naïve, Third Saintess. The Lord has given us this right, and told us this is the correct choice—it will save even more of our people.”
“Why do you pity those infants whose blood is not pure?”
“Why do you feel such emotions as compassion?”
Liang Lai felt Dolosa’s fingers trembling in her palm, cold as ice.
“I believe…”
Liang Lai took a deep breath, her silver hair stirring though there was no wind.
“The Church should shelter the weak, not turn infants into weapons.”
Her voice grew louder.
“If we cannot even protect the most innocent lives, what right do we have to call ourselves holy?”
A crack split Margaret’s crystal mask with a sharp “ka”.
“Third Saintess,” her voice was like ice laced with poison, “are you questioning the decree approved by His Holiness the Pope?”
Liang Lai suddenly realized this was a trap.
She turned to look at Dolosa, but the little girl’s blue eyes churned with emotions she couldn’t understand.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Wasn’t everyone a supporter of the Lord’s kindness? Weren’t they the representatives of the divine among mortals? That’s what the books of this world said.
Liang Lai had no idea what kind of disaster her next words would bring.
“What I am questioning,” Liang Lai said, enunciating every word, “is any act of violence committed in the name of holiness.”
Suddenly, the crystal lights beneath the dome dimmed.
The silver-robed figures of the Triumvirate of Saints emerged from the shadows, the chief among them raising a scepter inlaid with black crystal.
“Third Saintess Liang Lai, you have violated Article Seven of the Book of Holy Words. You are hereby sentenced to the ‘Barefoot Passage on the Crystal Road’.”
Dolosa’s scream was drowned out by the Priests’ holy chants.
Liang Lai felt someone roughly yank off her soft silver slippers, the cold stone slabs pressing against her bare feet.
In that moment, she seemed to understand.
Those so-called “representatives of the divine among mortals” were not meant to possess humanity, but divinity.
And divinity did not include compassion or weakness—it demanded absolute justice and absolute judgment.
Humanity hesitates, sympathizes, and weighs good against evil.
Divinity does not.
Suddenly, a line flashed through her mind: Compassion is the virtue of mortals, but the flaw of gods—for true holiness allows no compromise, no leniency.
Only now did she truly realize she had transmigrated into this world, and nothing around her was a joke.
She really had transmigrated.
It wasn’t a joke.
And it certainly wasn’t a dream.
She glanced at Dolosa one last time, silently mouthing “Don’t worry” to the little girl.
The Crystal Road was laid across the plaza before the Confession Hall, made of countless sharp shards of crystal, glittering cruelly under the sunlight.
Standing barefoot at the starting point, Liang Lai saw Dolosa’s bloodless face among the crowd.
“It’s alright!” Liang Lai turned to smile at her, her silver hair flying in the wind.
The moment she took her first step onto the Crystal Road, Liang Lai understood why this was one of the harshest punishments.
The shards pierced into her soles like living creatures, sucking at her blood like vampires.
She staggered, but quickly steadied herself.
“Three hundred steps.”
The Inquisitor announced coldly.
“If you keep your faith, your wounds will heal on their own.”
Liang Lai counted her heartbeats, forcing herself to take a second step.
Blood trickled down the crystal edges, painting strange patterns on the pure white ground.
She heard Dolosa’s sobs in the crowd, so she began to hum a tune, a holy song sung off-key.
“She’s… laughing?”
Whispers ran through the watching believers.
Liang Lai really was laughing.
She remembered the time she first presided over Mass and messed up the prayers, remembered the orphanage children sneaking salt into her food as a prank.
Actually, from the first day she found Dolosa, she had known—the child was the result of some high-ranking official and a nun who couldn’t resist temptation, sneaking around in secret.
She could guess at the Church’s scandals, but the ones punished were always the infants and the lowest-ranked nuns; those who broke the rules at the top never suffered any consequences.
Was this really fair?
Margaret said, “The Lord does not need compassion.” But if the Lord doesn’t need compassion, why did He create lives that feel pain, that cry, that beg for mercy?
“But we’re all human, aren’t we?”
If justice must be as cold as iron, then what does it truly protect—heavenly law, or arrogant pride towering above all?
You say divinity allows no weakness, but the mortal world is full of weakness.
A mother’s trembling embrace, a child’s frightened tears, the desperate hands of mortals struggling to survive.
If even these are unworthy of pity, then so-called “holiness” is nothing but another excuse for cruelty.
True divinity should not be the power that stands above suffering, but the courage to stoop and touch the wounded.
If one cannot understand the joys and sorrows of “humans,” then so-called “enacting the will of the divine” is nothing but a mask for tyranny.
That’s right.
Tyranny!
Liang Lai could already see through this world, but she was powerless—just as she’d been powerless watching her friends at the orphanage grow up unhappy.
But maybe this world could still be saved…
She looked at Dolosa.
Then she would raise a successor to the Pope. She had ten spots in her hand, didn’t she?
“I am human. My blood is warm, my hand will linger for the trembling weak. If that is a flaw, then I would rather be imperfect.”
By the hundredth step, Liang Lai’s feet no longer looked like feet.
The crystal shards were beginning to burrow into her veins, like countless tiny ice serpents.
She heard Margaret on the high platform: “Admit your mistake. Admit that so-called mercy is nothing but weakness.”
Liang Lai lifted her head to look toward where Dolosa was.
The little girl was being held by two Priests, her blue eyes brimming with tears.