Chapter 86

Chapter Eighty-Six: The Disassembled “Radiant Bishop”

“Thank you, this is fine. The road up the mountain is difficult to traverse.”

At the foot of Creek Mountain, a modest four-wheeled carriage came to a halt on a narrow path.

A man’s gentle voice emanated from inside the carriage, prompting the coachman in front to bring the horses to a stop.

The door opened, and a left foot stepped down onto the stone-paved ground.

It was a pair of high-quality boots, their polished black felt gleaming faintly under the noonday sun.

An impeccably dressed man adjusted the brim of his cylindrical top hat as he alighted from the carriage, walking over to the coachman. He withdrew his wallet, took out a five-shilling silver coin, and handed it to the coachman.

“No need for change.”

The man smiled as he said this.

After watching the coachman thank him and drive away, the man grasped his cane and began to ascend the mountain path, appearing much like an ordinary gentleman enjoying a leisurely stroll.

Soon, he reached the halfway point and caught sight of a massive manor constructed on a raised platform.

Approaching the iron gate surrounding the estate, his gloved hands rested lightly on his cane. After waiting a moment, a look of mild perplexity crossed his face.

Where was everyone?

Glancing around, he noticed a sign nearby that read, “Site adjustments; reopening at 15:30.”

Raising his left hand, the man checked his gold watch—its hands pointed to 12:57.

Had he arrived at an inopportune time?

Gazing at the half-open iron gate, the man hesitated briefly before stepping through.

He proceeded directly into the manor, scanning the luxurious hall until he spotted a familiar mark.

Good, I haven’t come to the wrong place.

Following the mark, he entered the drawing room to the right, tracing the intricate patterns woven into the carpet that led to another room.

Why is there no one here? Is Derton Manor usually this deserted?

The man’s tall nose twitched slightly, but he detected no scent of blood. Quickly reassured, he pressed the concealed switch.

As the sound of gears meshing and chains dragging echoed, a passageway appeared before him.

This place has been well-constructed… Unfortunately, its builder—the priest—has made a grave error that necessitates my personal investigation.

If it’s determined that this major mistake stems from the priest’s own negligence, I will take her to be judged and punished. As for this location… it will be abandoned outright.

Such a significant incident poses too great a risk of exposure. Years of operation have come to naught, and I must clean up the aftermath.

Constructing an Underground Sanctuary is already a perilous endeavor, treading the edge of regulation.

This serves no purpose to our plan, only increasing the likelihood of exposure. However, if successful, all of this would become the priest’s achievement, granting her swift promotion.

This priest is far too eager for quick results.

Contemplating the mess he must resolve, relocating those who’ve become followers to other locations without arousing suspicion, he felt a wave of exhaustion.

“Sigh.”

From behind him emerged several ghostly white figures cloaked in long robes.

One figure moved ahead, coalescing into a solid form—a man in white robes now stood before the hidden passage.

His ornate robes nearly concealed every inch of his skin, while a featureless mask obscured his expression.

In this moment, the elegant demeanor of the gentleman vanished, replaced by the cold, mechanical presence of a bishop devoid of emotion.

Lifting his left hand stiffly, he glanced at his watch—it was now 13:00. He thought he could faintly hear some noise coming from beneath the stairs.

Are they all below?

Today isn’t a prayer day, so gathering at this hour clearly violates the regulations.

With steady strides, the bishop descended the staircase, his white-robed shadows following closely behind, closing the secret door before merging back into his shadow.

The bishop continued downward, each step precise. Halfway down, he heard a strange gunshot-like sound.

Bang—

“Hmm…”

Something is amiss?

Before he could discern what had happened, a chorus of chanting voices drifted upward, echoing eerily through the spiral corridor.

“In endless darkness, I call upon you, Satarna…”

“Within the rifts of time and space, your existence transcends all things…”

The bishop paused momentarily, revealing no emotion, though internally he had already sentenced the priest to death.

To organize a collective prayer without the bishop’s presence…

Do you seek rebellion?

His steps quickened as he resumed his descent. The chants grew louder, yet something seemed off.

This isn’t normal prayer.

The voices screamed the prayers with manic fervor, their tone bordering on insanity.

For a brief moment, he struggled to distinguish between human prayers and whispers within his mind.

Stopping at the entrance to the stone spiral stairwell, he placed his hand on the carved stone door depicting a faceless deity.

At that instant, he sensed an intense spiritual alert—a warning akin to staring directly at an indescribable entity. His hand retreated slightly.

Realizing something, he slowly raised both hands to cover his ears.

The frenzied chants did not diminish in the slightest.

Raising his head sharply, he stared at the wooden door, his expression beneath the mask losing composure.

What is happening inside?!

Why am I affected so strongly?

The sounds reverberated in his mind, forming a symphony of chaos—composed of bones and organs, accompanied by wails and screams.

If this continues, the anomalies here may be detected by the Salvation Goddess Religion!

Unaware of the priest’s actions, the bishop knew he must intervene immediately.

Raising his hand, white shadows emerged from behind him, smashing the door with a single punch.

Boom—

The towering sanctuary doors shattered, revealing the vast interior. The sight froze the bishop in place.

Surrounded by three colossal pillars, countless corpses knelt toward the throne, their bodies incomplete, as if chewed upon.

A massive blood array enveloped them, connecting their bodies with threads of crimson, resembling a web spun from blood.

At the center of the web, these threads converged into a vortex of blood, dark red verging on black. It was this vortex influencing the whispers in the bishop’s mind.

Is this…

A blood sacrifice?!

How dare she?!

Looking downward from the vortex, the bishop saw the desiccated corpse floating before the throne—that was the priest. She… is dead.

Then who conducted the ritual?

Plonk—

The drained corpse fell to the ground, revealing a red-haired figure concealed beneath it.

She wore a mask with a broken blood seal covering half her face, the other side smiling as she gazed upward at the dark vortex above the sanctuary, raising her right hand toward it.

Vivid starlight radiated from the dark vortex, flowing into the corpse before her.

In that moment, the bishop’s mind felt as if struck by a blow—all the haunting whispers vanished as suddenly as they had come.

Staring dumbfounded at the radiant light entering the corpse, he watched it rise.

Encapsulation, emergence, metamorphosis… A terrifying semi-human, semi-insect creature materialized before him. In this instant, he experienced an unprecedented calm, coupled with an inexplicable sense of familiarity deep within his soul.

The figure, seemingly stepping out of a divine statue, stood solemnly before the altar, its back turned to him, holding his gaze transfixed.

Was it… summoned?

Could it really… succeed?

For countless ages, the Arrival Sect had strived and perished generation after generation without achieving this.

Now, like a dream, it stood before him.

Overwhelmed by emotion, tears streamed down his face beneath his mask, pooling beneath his chin.

Like other devout believers, he entered the blood array among the corpses, kneeling before the majestic, sacred figure emerging from scripture itself…

Kneeling before the young girl seated on the altar.

Bishop: “?”

Since earlier, the bishop had wanted to ask:

Who is she?

“The Mother Goddess… above…”

A ethereal voice resonated in the bishop’s mind. Stunned for two seconds, his expression shifted from confusion to disbelief.

Ignoring the renewed whispers tormenting his thoughts, he looked sharply at the girl before the altar, his mouth beneath the mask opening wide.

What did it say?

Who is the Mother Goddess?!

No… No, no, no… Calm down… You must remain calm…

You are a seasoned “Radiant Bishop.” The girl before you cannot possibly be the Mother Goddess. If she were, you wouldn’t be capable of coherent thought.

If the Mother Goddess were to manifest, the world would already be under the control of the Arrival Sect.

She… can only be one thing…

The earthly vessel of the Mother Goddess “Satarna,” sent to observe the world… the Holy Maiden of the Arrival Sect!

I knew the Holy Maiden of the Salvation Goddess Religion was fake! She hasn’t awakened any divine power yet!

We of the Arrival Sect! We are the ones walking the correct path!

A surge of glory and pride welled up within him. As a witness to this miracle, his heart was overwhelmed with excitement.

He yearned to report this news to the higher-ups, telling them that the true counter-offensive has begun.

But not yet… He couldn’t convince himself to move even a step, fearing that missing even a second of this sacred spectacle would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Meanwhile, Xia’er noticed the “Radiant Bishop” kneeling amidst the corpses.

Initially, Xia’er had seen him break the door, startling her into quickly directing the summoned brilliance to possess the corpse of Jiti before her.

While anxiously awaiting the emergence of the semi-human, semi-insect creature, the bishop unexpectedly knelt before it upon seeing it emerge.

Xia’er, unaffected by the spiritual being, couldn’t perceive what the bishop had seen, but she was certain that he had misunderstood something upon seeing the monster bow before her.

Given the current situation… perhaps combat wasn’t necessary?

Pausing briefly, Xia’er shifted slightly to the left, hiding behind the summoned spiritual being and addressing the bishop:

“Who are you?”

Upon hearing Xia’er’s voice, the bishop’s form began to distort, gradually transforming into the appearance of a well-dressed man. Lifting his head, he spoke:

“I am Bishop Brack of the Arrival Sect.”

Bowing deeply, he added respectfully, “Forgive me for interrupting the birth ceremony of the Holy Spirit… Your Highness, the Holy Maiden.”

Holy Maiden… Your Highness?

Xia’er blinked.

Alright, alright, enough already? How is it that both the Salvation Goddess Religion and the Arrival Sect make the same mistake in identifying people?

Every time in simulations, they called her Holy Maiden… Truly fitting for those originally part of the same sect, huh?

The Salvation Goddess Religion was tolerable, always suspecting her identity due to various incidents. Whether Yulis or Xiu, they insisted on taking her back to confirm her identity with the church.

This “Radiant Bishop,” however, upon witnessing her summon a spiritual being, immediately declared her the Holy Maiden.

Is the standard for recognizing the Holy Maiden simply based on the ability to conjure something from the Other Realm?

Is this a rare feat? Can others in this world not communicate with the Other Realm?

Besides the initial pretense of receiving an oracle, every other instance where she was mistaken for the Holy Maiden involved some connection to the Other Realm.

Xia’er temporarily set aside her musings about the Other Realm, still lacking sufficient understanding to draw conclusions.

Reorienting her focus, she eyed the distant Bishop Brack, hesitating briefly before issuing a control command to the summoned spiritual being.

Though the bishop appeared entirely mistaken about her identity and hadn’t shown any hostility, he was still a third-tier “Radiant Bishop.”

A slight misstep, and he might uncover her true nature, potentially controlling or brainwashing her with the Satarna Mark.

Only by fully securing control could Xia’er feel at ease.

After Xia’er issued the command, the spiritual being kneeling before her slowly turned its head toward Brack.

Upon seeing the spiritual being turn, Brack immediately lowered his head, avoiding direct eye contact.

This was not only for his own safety but also…

To respect the Holy Spirit.

For the mundane gaze to meet the face of the Arrival Sect’s radiance is a desecration… I am no vessel like a Holy Maiden, and Prager was quite aware of this limitation within himself.

But soon, Prager noticed something amiss.

He looked down at his shadow. From it, a ghostly pale arm slowly emerged.

Prager instinctively tried to control the white silhouette, but found it entirely unresponsive to his will—just as if all his extraordinary abilities had vanished without a trace.

His body stiffened as he watched helplessly while a grotesque head, riddled with cracks, emerged from the shadow, its eyes locking onto his.

In the next instant, that monstrous maw opened wide, revealing countless long, white insect legs wriggling out of the fissures, wrapping around his skull in a frenzied embrace.

“Aaah!!”

A scream tore from his throat. Regaining control over his body, he stumbled backward several steps, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at his own shadow—but the horrifying head and the monster had already vanished without a trace.

Prager raised a hand to his cheek; there were no wounds. It was as though nothing had happened.

Thankfully… nothing had happened. It was merely an illusion…

Prager glanced at his arms, now covered in cracks from which insect legs protruded, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

He flexed the pair of insect wings behind him and redirected his gaze toward the red-haired figure near the holy platform. His eyes brimmed with fervent reverence.

At that moment, Xia’er observed Prager from afar and furrowed her brow slightly.

Xia’er hadn’t seen any movement from the Spiritual Being, yet before her, Prager’s body began to ooze black blood.

The insect wings on his back, the horrifying cracks on his face, and the dense insect limbs made Xia’er recall the previous “Radiant Bishop” Xiu.

She could sense that Prager had been thoroughly corrupted by the potion. A single command from her would cause Prager to collapse instantly, consumed entirely by the potion, transforming into a mindless killing machine—a third-rank undead automaton.

Yet Prager himself seemed unaware.

He appeared not to realize that he had become half-man, half-monster.

“Prager, come here.”

Xia’er spoke to Prager. Meanwhile, the Spiritual Being under her control positioned itself in front of her.

Xia’er noticed that six pairs of insect wings on the Spiritual Being had diminished to three, leaving only the uppermost trio intact.

The insect wings would dissipate over time, and when the Spiritual Being used its abilities, their disappearance accelerated.

Even during the confrontation with Nia, the rate of dissipation wasn’t this rapid…

Could it be that Nia’s spirit—or perhaps the extent to which she’d been corroded by the potion—far exceeded that of Prager?

Was Nia’s “Crown Guard” corruption manifested through complete steelification?

Xia’er wondered how much of Nia’s body remained. If her entire form had transformed into silver armor, did that signify total loss of control?

Nia’s situation might be more perilous than Xia’er imagined. Her mind could be easily corrupted by the Spiritual Being, and her body had been severely assimilated by the potion…

Did Aivana know about this? If she did, why would she retain such a dangerous, potentially uncontrollable entity as her guard?

Perhaps there were secrets hidden beneath the surface, possibly linked to Aivana’s departure from her family and her appearance in Borough City.

Xia’er retracted her thoughts and gazed at Prager, who knelt before her amidst piles of corpses, lost in contemplation.

This situation had reached Xia’er’s initial objective: to eliminate all the cultists in Borough City and use them as sacrifices to kill the Arrival Sect bishop sent to investigate.

Reality could progress along these lines, but what happens after the bishop dies?

Wouldn’t the Arrival Sect send more people to investigate in Borough City?

Isn’t this just like the scenario where you defeat the small fry only for the big boss to show up?

It wouldn’t solve the problem once and for all.

The Derton Manor cultists must be dealt with, Jiti connected to Adelle must die, and this bishop cannot be allowed to live…

She needed to design a perfect “accident” from start to finish, resolving all three issues troubling her without raising suspicion against herself.

Solving problems before they happen.

Xia’er stared off into the distance, her focus lost. Her index finger tapped urgently against her chin, creating a rhythmic sound in her mind.

Unbeknownst to her, her lips curled into an interested smile in this tense moment.

“Tempter” Xia’er seemed to regard devising ways to reasonably kill everyone as some kind of amusement.

A thought struck her, and her gaze refocused on the kneeling bishop.

“Prager, tell me how you entered the Arrival Church, including your disguise outside, and all the tasks you’ve been assigned recently…”

Xia’er smiled gently as she questioned Prager.

“As you wish, Holy Maiden Your Highness…”

Prager lowered his head, speaking indistinctly as he began recounting his journey from joining the Arrival Church, answering each question Xia’er posed.

The corruption seemed to have affected his internal organs; his voice became slurred, occasionally coughing up blood.

Due to time constraints, Xia’er frequently interrupted Prager, urging him to stick to the key points.

Xia’er was unsure if she would still have control over Prager after the Spiritual Being returned to the Other Realm. She had to understand everything before the Spiritual Being disappeared and prepare accordingly.

Soon, Xia’er gradually learned the specifics from Prager.

Born in Bliss City, Prager became a pirate in his youth, filled with malevolence. During one voyage, their ship accidentally attacked a merchant vessel carrying a “Missionary” of the Arrival Sect.

When they finished plundering and prepared to burn the ship and kill everyone aboard, the “Missionary” intervened, brainwashing all ordinary people on both ships, imprinting them with the “Satarna Mark.” The incident was staged to look like an ordinary pirate attack on a merchant ship.

After being baptized, Prager returned to Bliss Port, where he encountered another “Reformed Monk” bearing the “Satarna Mark.” With his help, Prager retired from piracy and embarked on the path of a “Reformed Monk,” steadily rising within the organization over the years.

Over thirty years passed. Relying on connections from his pirate days and his growing network within the Arrival Sect, Prager transitioned from ship owner to running a maritime company. He simultaneously amassed wealth for the church and turned Bliss Port into his cult hub.

Currently, Prager’s cover identity was as a director of a maritime company, and his latest task involved using his position to investigate Borough City.

Although Borough City was inland, its canal system connected almost every port in An Su, boasting the largest canal network in the An Su United Kingdom. Prager conveniently had business negotiations in Borough City and was thus assigned this mission.

Prager was extremely reluctant, as he had built a prosperous life in Bliss City and didn’t want to pay for others’ mistakes, but he dared not defy the church’s orders. Thus, he arrived at Derton Manor outside Borough City during his business trip.

This constituted all the intelligence on Prager so far.

Xia’er stole a glance at the wings behind the Spiritual Being and realized only one pair of insect wings remained. Time was running out.

“Prager,”

Xia’er smiled sweetly at Prager and asked, “I’ve heard that the ‘Satarna Mark’ doesn’t prevent cultists from attacking each other. Instead, there’s an emblem of immunity, possessed only by bishops. Is that correct?”

This was information Xia’er had previously obtained: the ‘Satarna Mark’ didn’t magically make cultists friendly. Growing the cult mostly relied on the brainwashing skills of the “Missionaries.”

Loyalty to the church was only part of it; the true purpose of the ‘Satarna Mark’ was to ensure lower-level cultists couldn’t resist those holding special emblems—cultists ranked above bishops.

This was a method of control.

Xia’er’s current goal was to obtain this emblem.

“Yes, Holy Maiden Your Highness.”

Prager extended a trembling hand and fumbled to remove a gold watch from his left wrist.

With a slight effort, he crushed the watch casing and retrieved a coin-sized emblem engraved with a semi-circle and circle nested together—the church insignia.

“Anyone possessing this emblem won’t be attacked by other ‘Satarna Mark’-bearing third-rank or lower Extraordinary Persons or commoners, Holy Maiden Your Highness.”

Prager held the emblem high with both hands, presenting it to Xia’er.

Xia’er examined the emblem closely, then slipped it into her pocket—this item, stored in reality, would keep her safe from attacks by marked members of the Arrival Sect.

Having obtained the intelligence and the emblem, the next step was waiting for the Spiritual Being’s time in the world to expire and checking Prager’s status.

If he remained under her control, there’d be no issue.

If not, she’d execute him before he went berserk.

Hmm—

A familiar hum suddenly resonated in Xia’er’s mind. Frowning, she watched her right hand flicker.

Temporal disorder? Now?

I haven’t had enough fun yet!

Previously, Xia’er had used the “Echo of Silver White Time Binder” during a sacrifice to rewind her own timeline, granting her a one-hour “Temporal Disorder” negative state.

She could only watch her form flicker, hoping desperately to revert to the desired save point.

Becoming a gambler again meant waking up as a Saint in the Arrival Sect’s court—still bearing the unremoved “Satarna Mark.”

Tsk…

Seeing the incomplete healing of burns on her right hand after a series of flickers, “Tempter” Xia’er let out a disappointed tsk.

Quickly, a flash of silver light enveloped her. A red-haired woman with bandaged hands replaced “Tempter” Xia’er, standing in place as the “Avenger” Xia’er.

Xia’er stood still for a moment, then slowly turned her gaze toward Prager.

The pain from her arm burns stimulated her nerves, anger burning fiercely in her chest.

“Why does it always have to be me… dealing with these situations…”

Muttering to herself, resentment over her disrupted peaceful life grew within her heart.

Her eyes slowly shifted left, noticing only one insect wing remained behind the Spiritual Being.

Time was almost up.

A shadow emerged behind Xia’er, rummaging through the pile of corpses.

Soon, a dagger and a hatchet were handed to Xia’er. After a quick glance, she ignored the dagger and picked up the hatchet.

Xia’er looked down calmly at the kneeling Prager and spoke softly:

“Lie down, Prager.”

Prager obediently lay down before her.

“Spread your legs and arms.”

Prager formed a star shape, offering no resistance.

“Tempter” Xia’er was too reckless, often thinking in strange directions, prone to causing trouble.

Fortunately, the side effects of temporal disorder allowed the steady “Avenger” Xia’er to take over.

And “Avenger” Xia’er excelled at neutralizing all dangers.

Like the potential attack from Prager regaining sanity after the Spiritual Being disappeared.

Xia’er slowly lifted her right hand and swung the hatchet down with force.

Schh—!

Prager’s left arm was cleanly severed, leaving only some bone shards and muscles connecting it.

Schh—!

Blood sprayed everywhere as Prager’s left arm was completely chopped off!

Xia’er kicked the severed arm aside and circled the now agonized and despairing Prager to his right side.

Schh—

Schh—

Schh—

Chop sounds akin to a butcher cutting bones echoed throughout the silent sanctuary.

Soon, Xia’er, her face splattered with blood, stood beside the limbless, barely alive Prager, lifting the bloody hatchet toward the Spiritual Being.

“Die before he does… leave.”

Xia’er commanded.

The terrifying half-man-half-insect nodded repeatedly at Xia’er and quickly dispersed into countless specks of starlight mist, vanishing into thin air. The restored body of Jiti collapsed onto the ground.

Xia’er’s gaze dropped to the fallen “Radiant Bishop” Prager and asked softly:

“Who… am I?”

Prager, tears streaming down his face from unbearable pain, spat out a mouthful of blood, his voice weak but fervent: “Holy Maiden… Your Highness…”

“Good.”

Schhk—

Xia’er bent down and swung the axe into his forehead, blood and brain matter splattering everywhere—Prager, a third-rank “Radiant Bishop,” died in the underground sanctuary of Derton Manor in Borough City.

Kkak—

Xia’er shook the axe embedded in Prager’s skull free. Observing her shimmering arm, she realized “Temporal Disorder” was about to reset again.

“Your plans… are unnecessary now.”

Raising the hatchet horizontally with her right hand, she swung it forcefully at her temple. Simultaneously, the shadow behind her, under her control, plunged a dagger into her own heart.

Almost instantly, Xia’er succumbed to death, her vision engulfed in a vast, endless silver whiteness…