Like the shadow cast by a cathedral's divine statue, even during the ancient era when the [Guardian of the Eternal Sun], "Amanatta," was at his most powerful, He never spread the sun's blazing radiance to every corner of the world.
Night would eventually arrive.
And shadows had never truly dissolved under the reflection of light.
While nobles in ornate crowns and lavish gowns exchanged toasts at extravagant banquets, there were always those worrying about how to fill their bellies.
Even in a great city like Neum, behind those magnificent and grand cathedrals and mansions, lay countless filth filled with mud and garbage.
To some extent, it was precisely because of the city's own massive scale and highly prosperous commerce that this foul land—which made one instinctively hold their breath and frown upon smelling it—rotted further, sinking deep into a darkness from which it was difficult to escape.
The drifting, falling leaves of the plane trees, the comfortable soft gurgling of fountains, the sound of harp strings drifting from roadside restaurants...
The autumn evening breeze was always gentle, cool, and pleasant for the wealthy people on Eagle Emblem Avenue who took their pets for walks after dinner.
But when the people beneath the veil of night lost the protection of thick autumn clothes and warm houses, exposing their fragile flesh to the cold wind, the breeze revealed its true nature: a preference for the rich and a disdain for the poor.
Neum, Lower District.
Little Snot hugged his chest tightly, wrapping the thin, patch-filled linen clothes around himself even closer.
It was of little use.
The piercing, biting wind was like that stingy fat boss at the newspaper office; no matter how much he exhausted his voice in bitter pleading, in the end, he could only use all the copper coins on his person to exchange for a stack of newspapers that could not possibly be sold out.
At the collar and sleeves, the icy chill clung to the skin and seeped into the flesh through the gaps in the linen fibers.
It made Little Snot shiver uncontrollably.
Whenever this happened, he could only do his best to drive his sore, exhausted legs, quickening his pace in hopes of bringing a sliver of warmth to his body.
The road home was long.
But as a child born and raised in this neighborhood, he naturally wouldn't be so rigid as to take the main roads.
Instead, like a little sewer rat that shunned the light, he avoided a few dangerous spots and wove through the complex, cramped alleys.
"Cough... cough..."
The small hut was so crude it seemed to merge with the darkness; no lights were on.
Due to a long lack of maintenance, the cracks in the walls were overgrown with moss, and a few clusters of unknown green vines climbed the corners.
It looked as if it had been abandoned for a long time.
Only the occasional coughing sound coming from within indicated that someone indeed lived there.
With effort, he fished out a key from a deeply hidden pile of stones known only to himself.
Clutching the newspapers, Little Snot gently opened the door to the house.
"Brother?"
A weak female voice came from the inner room.
"It's me!" Little Snot replied hastily, fearing the other would worry.
Carefully locking the door, he placed the thick stack of newspapers cautiously on the already cleaned tabletop.
There were still two days until the next issue was printed, yet more than half of the newspapers in his hand remained.
This couldn't help but make him feel anxious.
He had to sell at least another half.
Otherwise, next month, he might not even be able to afford the cheapest black bread.
He planned to head out before dawn tomorrow; if he was lucky, he might be able to sell a few copies by the relay station.
Then, in the morning, he would find a chance to clear out an hour or two to visit "Griffin Department Store"...
In the pitch-black night, Little Snot lit the oil lamp.
Against the backdrop of the flickering, weak flame, ignoring the scent of blood gradually permeating the air, he took a blood-stained bundle from his bosom.
When even surviving had become a problem, a youth growing up in the slums had long since pushed so-called "conscience" to the deepest part of his heart, and he was never afraid of a corpse lying by the roadside.
Not to mention, that corpse had been an adventurer.
If it hadn't been for members of a nearby street gang passing by, he would have even wanted to strip the armor and weapons off the body and bring them back.
Of course, even so, Little Snot's harvest was not small.
He gently loosened the tightly tied mouth of the bag, revealing a palm-sized human-shaped statue inside that looked like a cross between a deer and a goat.
It was ugly as sin; he didn't know how much money it would fetch.
But since it was something from an adventurer, it certainly wouldn't be too cheap.
Little Snot had already made a decision in his heart.
When he negotiated the price with the owner of "Griffin Department Store" tomorrow, if it was less than seven... five silver coins, he absolutely would not sell!
Besides the statue, there were some loose coins on the dead adventurer. At this moment, a portion of them had been exchanged for food, and another portion was currently feeling the warmth of his chest.
Wrapping the statue back in the bag, and hearing the coughing from the inner room, a look of urgency appeared on Little Snot's face. He temporarily placed the bundle on the table and walked inside carrying the oil lamp.
What entered his sight was a girl with an incredibly thin frame and a pale face devoid of any trace of blood.
"Brother..."
"Eat." Taking out the nut coarse-cakes he had bought with the adventurer's coins on the way back, a smile appeared on Little Snot's face.
Without waiting for the girl to respond, he said in a forcedly casual tone
"I met a generous lord in a carriage today, and he gave me a lot of tips!"
"Eat quickly. Once you're full, you'll get better faster."
"Eat, don't worry about me. I already ate before I came back."
Hearing him say this, the girl could only withdraw her worried gaze, hold the coarse-cake with both hands, and nibble on it in small bites.
Forcing down the hunger in his own stomach, Little Snot gazed at the girl on the bed, momentarily lost in thought.
The girl's name was "Polly," his younger sister.
Two years younger.
She had been sick for nearly a year.
Speaking of which, although their family lived in the slums, their past days were far less difficult than they were now.
Both parents had jobs; the income wasn't much, but it was more than enough to support a family of four.
Before the incident, they had even considered sending him to Uncle Rim's carpentry shop as an apprentice.
Until last year, that notorious "Sewage" incident.
A powerful figure whose name he still didn't know had contaminated the water source of the Lower District.
It took his mother's life, and his sister would likely spend the rest of her life in a sickbed.
Unable to withstand the heavy blow of his wife's death, his father—who was taciturn but had always supported the family—became a drunkard who spent his days numbing his brain with alcohol.
He even had to be supported by the boy.
Every day while selling newspapers, he had to pass by the cathedral, and he often heard the hymns drifting from within.
They sounded quite nice, yet he never saw any hope.
"Brother, I'm full."
A wrist as thin as a twig trembled as she handed over half a coarse-cake.
Little Snot froze for a moment, wanting to refuse, but the girl's determined gaze and her shrunken, spasming stomach made him simply take it with a smile.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but suddenly, a floating footstep mixed with cursing came from outside the door.
*Bang!*
The door shook violently, and dust fluttered down.
"Open up! *Hic*... Open the damn door for me!"
The familiar voice, carrying a clear drunken slur, allowed Little Snot to recognize the other's identity.
Though his face held a hint of helplessness, he could only hurriedly stand up and trot toward the door.
With effort, just as he loosened the door lock, Little Snot felt a massive force hit him from the front.
The door was kicked open violently, and he fell to the ground.
Too exhausted, having endured hunger for too long, his body was on the verge of collapse.
After the fall, he felt stars in his eyes, his vision went black, and he felt powerless throughout his body, unable to even stand up.
He just lay there on the ground, watching a figure reeking of alcohol stagger into the house.
"So slow just to open a door... *hic*, what use are you?"
"Nut coarse-cakes? Struck it rich? Dammit, I can't even scrape together money for booze, and you're eating this well."
"What's this? A statue?"
"Fucking ugly. Where did you steal this from?"
"I happen to be short on cash these two days, you..."
...
...
Soft, quiet moonlight fell faintly from the cathedral's dome, and the towering altar seemed to be draped in a layer of snow-white frost.
Silver-white points of light emitting a faint glow were like a veil of mist gently fluttering in the air,氤氲 (yīnyūn - enveloping/misty) above the altar.
Xianan leaned back on a long bench in the hall, his gaze surveying the interior environment of the cathedral.
Unlike the interior of the "Sun God" Amanatta's cathedral, which revealed rules and order everywhere, the "Moon God Cathedral" of the [Silver Holy Mother], [Maiden of the Moon] Selene, was a completely different style.
The night was deep; having arrived in haste, he had not observed the cathedral's exterior in detail, only roughly sensing the grandeur of the architecture.
Now that he had entered the hall, under the reflection of the gentle lights on the smooth walls on both sides, he had the chance to notice the arrangement.
The surface of the snow-white columns reflected the moonlight, and the curvature of the ribbed vaults resembled half-moons, supporting the towering dome; stained-glass windows embedded across the entire wall refracted a soft, clear light, making the opposing cathedral hall seem shrouded in a layer of faint silver radiance.
A light, delicate fragrance permeated the air.
Like the moonlight flowers that bloom only at night.
As it flowed into his nostrils with every breath, his entire being seemed to quiet down.
This also eased the emotions of Dess and the others, who had been unsettled by the sudden turn of events.
They sat on the benches, praying silently, occasionally leaning in to whisper a few words.
The personality and alignment of a deity, to a great extent, also influenced the behavioral style of the priests and ministers who believed in them.
The Sun God Amanatta was stubbornly lawful, just and strict, regarding "contracts" and "order" as the most important parts of his dogma.
In Karanfor, given the status of Xianan and his companions, it would be absolutely impossible to enter a cathedral outside of the designated opening hours, let alone receive purification from a priest.
But the "Moon God Cathedral" was different.
Although the personality of the [Maiden of the Moon] Selene was fickle—sometimes making one feel she was unpredictable and very casual—her alignment leaned toward the side of Good.
She was calm and gentle, never stingy with her mercy; while the bright moon hung high in the sky, she simultaneously showed her maternity and a nearly poetic tranquility to all living beings.
This caused the believers of this deity, especially the fanatics among them, to draw closer to the deity herself under the guidance of her dogma.
Selene's divine portfolio included the [Moon] and the [Stars], so the Moon God Cathedral often had nuns on duty at night.
Xianan and the others had arrived abruptly, yet the nun had been very kind.
She did not blame them for disturbing her quiet meditation, but instead received them with a smile, and after asking their purpose, went directly to the inner sanctuary to request instructions from the priest.
Such a gentle and friendly attitude was beyond Xianan's expectations.
In his view, the clergy who served the gods on this continent held a status almost equal to the local nobility to some extent.
For commoners like them who held no titles, while perhaps not arrogant, some distance should have been inevitable.
But whether it was the benevolent presiding priest in the now-ruined Sun God Cathedral, or the nun who believed in the Moon God just now, both seemed exceptionally peaceful.
He wondered if their personalities were naturally like this, if it was a requirement of their dogma, or if it was simply to harvest the faith of ordinary commoners?
It wasn't that Xianan was a conspiracy theorist, but seeing Dess and the others beside him—from their restlessness upon entering the cathedral, to their gradual calming after the nun's comfort, to their current pious appearance as they prayed at the altar—made him reflect.
"Mr. Xianan, we'll be alright, won't we?"
A question once asked by Jeff was now asked of Xianan again by his daughter, Lilina.
This young girl, who had recently graduated from the academy, pinched the corner of her clothes with her fingertips, her eyes staring at the deep night behind the cathedral doors, her face filled with uncontrollable worry.
Xianan didn't feel impatient, but he didn't dare guarantee it either.
He simply intentionally put on a relaxed smile and answered jokingly
"Speaking of which, actually, I'm the only one who has experienced the influence of the statue. All of you, including your father, haven't felt anything obvious."
"If something really were to go wrong, I should be the first one."
"But... look, I'm perfectly fine right now, and I can even sit here and chat with you."
Hearing Xianan's comfort, the girl's tense expression relaxed slightly.
She nodded and was about to say something to him when the sound of footsteps came from behind.
Turning around, he could vaguely see a familiar silhouette approaching through the pitch-black night.
Out of breath, his outer coat looking somewhat disheveled, and deep fatigue visible on his weathered face, but the cloth bag that had originally wrapped the statue had disappeared from his hand.
"Daddy!"
Lilina cried out in surprise and threw herself directly at him.
Dess, his wife, who had been praying for her family since entering the cathedral, also breathed a sigh of relief.
After a brief moment of tenderness, Jeff nodded in gratitude toward Xianan.
Although the street where they lived had decent security, it was night, after all. He really didn't feel comfortable letting his family walk such a long distance from their home to the cathedral alone.
With the accompaniment of this adventurer whom he deeply trusted, he could go handle business with peace of mind.
Then, his gaze turned toward his son, Jamie, on the side bench.
"I have personally returned that wooden carving to your mentor."
"I also explained the potential problems that the statue itself might possess."
"But..."
The expression on Jeff's face became somewhat strange.
"He didn't seem to take it seriously."
"He just told you to complete your assignment properly and hand it in on time tomorrow."
(End of Chapter)