On the stone steps of the Temple, all the holy light torches lit up for the first time.
Shirley stood at the highest point of the Temple corridor, looking down at the sea of kneeling followers below.
The gold gown wrapped around her thin shoulders, the sacred crown pressing down on her wind-tossed hair. She forced her back straight, trying not to look like a novice nun who had just come out of Ashstone Town.
Victor stood at the very front of the crowd in the dark blue coat she had altered for him. His blond hair shone brighter than the sacred crown under the countless holy light torches.
The Four Elders sat solemnly on the high platform.
He looked up at her, his lips moving as if silently repeating a single phrase:
See? You did it.
The Da Zhanglao held up the holy scripture and recited the prayer, his voice spreading across the square like a tide.
The sacred crown was lifted high, the cross gleaming with holy light under the sun.
The moment the crown settled on Shirley’s hair and the cross hung on her chest, the Holy Light God statue suddenly lit up.
A beam of holy light poured down from the statue’s palm and flooded into Shirley’s body.
Her pupils instantly burned into two golden flames, and a pair of translucent wings of light spread from her back.
A thunderous cheer erupted from the square.
“The God of holy light has responded!”
The followers knelt on the ground and shouted:
“Long live the God of holy light!”
Victor was jostled by the crowd as he stared up at the holy light pouring down from the dome.
So that was the God of holy light?
Then his gaze unconsciously fell back on Shirley.
The scar on her face was outlined by the light into a soft contour. She was wrapped in holy light, her golden hair gently floating in the glow.
No, compared to the God of holy light, she was still more dazzling.
A thought suddenly popped into his mind.
***
After the ceremony, the side wing of the Temple was unnervingly quiet.
Victor lay on a bed so soft it didn’t feel like a bed at all, staring blankly at the intricate reliefs on the ceiling. He had slept on hard stone slabs, on piles of straw, and even next to the garbage heap in the back alley of Ashstone Town.
Now, lying on this bed with velvet sheets, every bone in his body seemed to protest.
This wasn’t the place for him.
‘Just a moment ago I stood among those nobles. The way they looked at me was like looking at a stray cat that had accidentally run into the Temple.’
The door suddenly swung open.
Shirley was still wearing that complicated coronation gown. The sacred crown was off, her hair was a mess, and her face was flushed—whether from excitement or from running too fast.
She threw herself onto the edge of his bed, her voice trembling.
“Brother Victor!”
“I just applied to the Da Zhanglao, and you can be my Holy Acolyte.”
“My very own!”
“Then the two of us can be together often, go on missions together, patrol together, hehehe.”
Victor was completely stunned.
Those who had cultivated painfully for years couldn’t even touch the threshold of the Temple. He, a man with not a shred of holy light magic, what qualifications did he have?
For several seconds, he couldn’t utter a single word.
Shirley shook her head vigorously, saying it was all because she had pestered the Da Zhanglao for a long time, saying it was a position that countless Followers of Holy Light dreamed of.
“I said, you’re the most reliable person who grew up with me, and only then did the Da Zhanglao relent.”
She lifted her chin, wearing an expression that said “Praise me.”
“So Brother Victor has to reward me well.”
He looked at her sparkling eyes in the moonlight, then suddenly leaned close to her, his voice dropping very low.
“All right, what should the reward be?”
They were so close that he could see the flutter of her eyelashes, so close that he could smell the warm fragrance of holy light lingering in her hair.
Shirley’s face instantly turned red. She backed away two steps, waving her hands incoherently.
“I, I haven’t thought of it yet! I’ll tell you tomorrow!”
She turned and fled, nearly tripping over her gown at the door.
Victor looked at the still-shaking door and let out a quiet laugh.
‘Still so lively.’
***
The next day’s schedule was packed.
In the morning, Shirley knelt at the Altar of the Temple for the saint’s exclusive prayer practice, with Victor standing behind her as her Holy Acolyte.
He watched the sunlight stream through the stained glass and land on her focused profile, holy light flowing from her fingertips.
He suddenly remembered how, back in Ashstone Town under the old locust tree, she used to close her eyes like that too—only back then she was leaning on his shoulder, dozing off.
In the afternoon, they watched the saint’s combat training on the training ground, with the Da Zhanglao personally instructing.
Shirley stood in the middle of the training hall, forming hand seals in front of her chest. Holy light suddenly burst from her back, turning into a pair of brilliant golden light wings.
With a single gentle flap, the air wave from those light wings pushed the surrounding training equipment backward.
The Da Zhanglao nodded in satisfaction and said to the Scribe beside him:
“In less than half a month, she has already practiced the wings of holy light to this level. Her current strength has reached gold grade. Such talent has never been seen in a hundred years.”
Victor stood at the edge of the field, watching Shirley wave her light wings and practice flying under the sun, watching the natural confidence that came over her when she was wrapped in holy light.
In her world, everything was so natural.
From then on, every afternoon when Shirley went to combat training, Victor would silently walk to the Knight training ground.
The first time he held a sword, he nearly stumbled from the weight of the iron blade.
The first time he swung it twenty times, his arms couldn’t lift anymore.
The first time he used a shield charge, he was sent flying directly.
But after each day’s training, he would go run laps on his own, pushing himself until his body fell apart, until his muscles ached so much he couldn’t sleep. He would lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking, ‘Can I take one more hit tomorrow?’
After more than half a month of continuous high-intensity special training, he applied for the Temple Knight Reserve assessment.
In front of the power testing stele in the corner of the training ground, Victor pulled into a lunge and punched the stele’s surface.
The value popped up.
The Knight in charge wrote down the evaluation expressionlessly:
Strength Rating: Mortal Rank.
The light patterns on the stele had already dimmed.
The dull pain from the impact still lingered in his knuckles.
He stood there without moving, looking down at his fist.
He suddenly remembered what the Da Zhanglao had said yesterday when Shirley unfolded her light wings.
Less than half a month, gold grade.
And himself? Mortal rank.
Shirley had run over at some point.
She was still wearing her training clothes, dust smudged on her face—she had probably just finished training at the combat field.
When Victor saw her, he hid his still-reddened fingers behind his back.
She asked what he was doing.
He said nothing, then suddenly lowered his head and laughed.
“Shirley, I guess from now on I can only rely on you to protect me.”
“That’s right!”
“From now on, I’ll protect Brother Victor!”
“If anyone dares to bully you, I’ll blow them away with my wings of holy light.”
He suddenly didn’t want to ask anymore.
His fist was red from the impact with the stele, while her wings of holy light could flip the entire training ground.
But when she said, “From now on, I’ll protect you,” there wasn’t a hint of condescension in her eyes. It was the same look she had when she was a kid in Ashstone Town, saying she would beat up those bad kids for him.
Only back then, she didn’t have the power.
Now, she did.
He curved his lips, took his still-red hand from behind his back, and gently patted her on the head.
“All right, I’ll count on you from now on.”
He smiled and tucked that mortal rank evaluation result deep into the bottom of his heart.