Chapter 581 - 43: I’m Not Going Anywhere

The Spirit Summoning Association is, at its core, a collection of madmen and those who yearn for their power.

Initially, it was just an ordinary underground Church. The earliest prototype of the Spirit Summoning Association that I know of came from a small sect that existed seven hundred years ago on the border between Zhu Country and Southeast Asia.

It followed primitive Witchcraft beliefs. The sect’s Leader was skilled in Black Magic and Yansheng, adept at cursing crops and beasts. He could make entire villages barren and even cause plagues to spread. As a result, he held considerable prestige in the local area, revered, worshiped, and given offerings by countless people.

Then one day, an old man who had offered up all his money—even his own daughter—was kicked aside because no more value could be squeezed from him. He could only watch as the Leader shook a ritual banner made from his daughter’s skin and ordered his banishment.

This was not tragic, in truth. It was this same man who, in his quest for greater favor, had cursed his neighbor’s fields to wither. It was he who, hoping for a son, offered up his nine-year-old daughter. A greedy, vicious man had simply met one even more so. That was all.

And he would become the first Leader of the Spirit Summoning Association. In his resentful despair, having lost everything, he heard a whisper of ’Tianqi’.

I do not know which Celestial God’s lineage he inherited. But it is clear that the old man killed the Leader of that small sect, seized his organization, and proceeded to do the exact same things as his predecessor, only with even greater malice and terror. He would devour the Souls of those who could not pay tribute, or cause the children in a region to be born deformed.

It is said that the late Shepherd of Spirits studied the tales and methods of this old Leader from seven hundred years ago. When he was still alive, he would often praise him with a sigh, saying that the modern mind was truly limited. In matters of pure malice, he, a man of the modern age, couldn’t hold a candle to the ancients of centuries past.

After all, the most we do is cultivate untouchables on remote islands, using them as human livestock to proliferate the Celestial God Factor. Beings with both intelligence and a Talent for Spiritual Power can accelerate this proliferation, whereas other creatures are simply too inefficient. The organization’s funds are limited and must be spent wisely.

Of course, we rarely eat human flesh, nor do we slaughter indiscriminately. We don’t use human organs and skin to make ’art products,’ and we certainly don’t waste lives. They are our property, our source of power.

Every time we kill, it is for a purpose—to incite local unrest, to broadcast the Spirit Summoning Association’s influence, or to intimidate and entice the destitute locals into joining us. At least their deaths have meaning.

"You could say we maintain stability, in a way." The Reborn, who was two of a kind with the Shepherd of Spirits, would even remark during their idle chats. "After all, those poor people’s lives are meaningless. We help them end this one and live exciting lives in their stead. No matter how you look at it, it’s a good thing, right?"

"Indeed." The Shepherd of Spirits, still alive back then, would lick a Soul Crystal of his own making and reply with a smile. As one who had inherited the lineage of the Silent Lord, he could draw power from the Curses and Desire Power within a Soul, but the most delicious part was the Soul itself. "They had nothing to begin with, so it’s better that we found some value in them."

A tedious topic.

I never answered their musings and questions, because it was all so dull.

Life is always painful, whether one is poor or rich.

Whether it’s the human crops, the common members who joined the Spirit Summoning Association craving Extraordinary Power, or the Commanders and their confidants who inherited the lineage of a Celestial God—our endings are all destined to be painful and desperate.

Those official Transcendents who hunt us, the International Patrol officers who have always opposed us, or the Elite hunters from the major Extraordinary Organizations—their endings are also destined to be the same. No exceptions.

Even the Gods...

Even the great beings themselves.

They, too, are now in agony... waiting for some being to grant them release.

I heard such a voice. This was an unprecedented Tianqi. I know why the Celestial Gods spread Their Tianqi for those as empty and desperate as us to hear—it is because They, too, are filled with pain.

—Therefore, I know. The essence of life is nothing but a vessel for pain, destined to be shattered, releasing whatever lies at the very end.

And so, I do not speak. For if I were to open my mouth, a wordless solitude and endless emptiness would flood my heart.

That is why they call me the Silent.

One of the Leaders of the Spirit Summoning Association.

The number of Leaders in the Spirit Summoning Association varies. Only those who have heard a Tianqi and inherited the lineage of a Celestial God can be called a Leader.

The late ’Shepherd of Spirits’ obtained the power of the ’Silent Lord,’ which allowed him to command a Night Parade of a Hundred Demons and manipulate Souls.

The ’Reborn,’ a strange old man who claims to be immortal, inherited the power of the ’Nirvana Lord.’ He can burn the Souls of others to extend his own life. No one knows how long he has lived, nor how vast his reserve of Souls is. It is said that on his enormous wings, every single feather represents a chance to begin anew.

Those two were two of a kind. They often worked together to harvest their human livestock. One treated Souls like candy, the other treated them as inventory. When it came to tormenting people, they shared a certain... mutual admiration.