Chapter 323: Burning the House to Reveal the Rat

For the past half a month, the pigeon coop on the Temple of Light’s tower in Cathalan hadn’t had a peaceful moment. Pigeons from across the sea flew back, pigeons from Ironvale flew back, then pigeons from the countries along the East coast also flocked back sequentially.

Every single one had its wings utterly exhausted, just landing then dropped rolling out sleeping, on their feet still tied intact the red string letter tubes. Red strings meant express letters, and express letters since ancient times were only to report the news of a king passing away or enemies flooding across the border. For the past half month, the Pope received exactly forty-seven tubes.

He sat in the study room reading every single letter completely, his head still wearing the gold thread embroidered velvet hat, because since the night at the Crown Square until now not a single hair strand had been willing to grow back yet.

Every letter wrote similarly to each other, the God of Light statue cracked wide open, inside crawling out a statue of another Deity, sometimes barefooted, sometimes sprouting horns, citizens dragged each other out kneeling before the strange statues, while the merit box visibly emptied out.

His Eminence the Cardinal in the Royal Capital across the sea wrote that he sat stubbornly on the stone throne for three days now still unable to stand up, this letter was also sitting on the throne writing.

His Eminence the Cardinal of Ironvale land then wrote on the back side of a distress letter, the handwriting slanted and crooked like chicken scratching, reading from beginning to end only seeing begging the Pope to quickly dispatch people up the pass changing shifts so he could get to return.

Reading letters then the Pope could still endure.

The thing making him lose sleep throughout the past half month lay in the Temple’s basement.

Under the deepest basement of the Temple there was a God of Light statue largest in the continent, in the statue’s palm was a white flame burning throughout three hundred years never extinguishing a single time. Believers everywhere were all preached that their faith flew returning here feeding the holy flame, for the God of Light following the firelight to look down at the mortal world.

In the entire Temple only the Pope alone knew that flame had never lit the way for anyone. For forty years now, every night he also went down to the basement, knelt before the statue, held his two hands out warming over the flame, finishing warming then the wrinkles on his face faded away a bit, his bones and joints lightened a bit.

This year the Pope was already one hundred and twelve years old, yet outsiders looking in still thought just past sixty. As for the larger fire portion going where then he did not dare to ask. He only knew exactly every time the fire flared up then inside the basement turned cold a bit, as if something high above had just bent down taking a gulp.

For the past half month, the flame had shrunk losing half. Last night the Pope warmed his hands all the way until the rooster crowed, yet several age spots on the back of his hands still stubbornly remained there.

This morning, the Council of Cardinals was urgently convened. The fourteen Cardinals currently present in Cathalan sat around the long stone table, every single figure wore a hat, some figures wore mink hats, some figures wrapped silk scarves, no one dared to look at anyone’s head.

Cardinal Osbert’s chair then since ancient times still remained empty, because His Eminence was all the way in Ironvale, and recently was even busy hugging a spear standing guard on the Northern pass.

The meeting began with a table slamming sound, and finishing slamming the table then came the turn of blaming.

"It is the Lyra bunch!" A round and fat Cardinal roared.

"Lyra is all the way in the South, while Fenmoor and Ironvale are all the way across the sea, they sprouted wings flying over huh?"

"Then it is an evil god!"

"What evil god would go fighting demonic creatures on behalf of border soldiers?"

"Or is the God of Light testing our hearts..."

"Testing hearts then test, why test exactly into the merit box?"

The Cardinal overseeing the treasury then completely didn’t bother arguing, kept bowing his head checking the ledger, finishing checking then his face was cut without a drop of blood, because for the past half month the offerings of eleven countries combined were not even equal to a festival season of Cathalan city alone.

Some figure suggested dispatching Holy Knights going smashing completely the strange statues, immediately brushed aside by the whole table.

Smashing what way? On the Fenmoor side spears just raised up had already sprouted shoots sprouted buds, while on the Ironvale side then rumors saying whoever stepped forward shouting smash, that night automatically got dragged up to the pass standing guard! Speaking to here, every single figure again quietly pulled the hat on their head down lower a bit.

The Pope sat at the head of the table from beginning to end not saying a single sentence, his two hands hidden carefully inside the wide sleeves.

[These fools worry about the merit box.] He thought: [While I worry about my life.]

Arguing until noon then the old Cardinal overseeing new constructions cleared his throat speaking up. He said he had read carefully all forty-seven letters, seeing whichever church cracking statues was also the church built on old statue stones, and the old statue stones were entirely the evil gods’ statues in the past smashed into pieces brought propping foundations.

"Then dig the foundations up." He said: "Digging getting however much stone then transport out to the sea dropping, to see where the evil god still clings to."

The whole meeting room was dead silent for a moment, then "oh" exclaimed in praise. Digging church foundations then what the hell different was it from pulling one’s own house pillar? However no figure thought of that matter, because digging then already had laborers, and laborers then when had they ever gotten to sit in the meeting room.

The Holy Decree was drafted right in the afternoon, stamped with the Pope’s seal, copied sending away across the continent, ordering whichever church built on old statue stones then within one month must finish digging the foundation.

The Pope set his pen signing while his hands trembled, finishing signing even had to stand up saying with the whole Council that the God of Light had seen through everything, only needing faith not to waver then the evil god automatically must retreat.

[One month...] He thought: [Do not know if the flame can still hold out for one month.]

On the Temple roof, there were two people sitting listening from morning until now. The sky had turned completely dark, under their feet the entire Royal Capital was dotted bright with name-eating lamps, every alley also had them, only the Temple alone was dark every night.

"Digging foundations." Kaelen burst out laughing: "They think quite fast you know."

"Digging getting whichever one then that one collapses." Sane said.

"That’s exactly why worrying." Kaelen stopped laughing: "Churches collapsing then crush laborers to death, not crushing hitting any Cardinal Sir at all."

He pressed his hand down onto the tiled roof. Through the several-zhang-thick stone layer, the flame under the basement appeared completely clearly, and clearer than all was the milky white thread cloud from across the continent flowing returning, gathering into the statue’s palm then shooting straight up to the sky.

The threads pierced through the cloud layer, pierced through even the spot Heavenly Dao often sat eating stealthily, traveling endlessly traveling endlessly then lost out of sight. Previously Heavenly Dao kept raising his finger pointing up to the sky without willing to speak clearly, now then he understood why he could not speak.

Sane looked following that thread cloud, his eyes darkening completely.

"Its mouth is here." He said: "Smashing the mouth away then It starves."

Kaelen grabbed his sleeve: "You promised Edward how?"

"Swallowing words then swallowing words..."

Kaelen did not say anything, only looked at him, implying [You try swallowing and see.]

The God of War sighed lengthily, sitting down back to the old spot.

"Smashing this mouth then It sprouts another mouth, and next time we do not know It sprouts where." Kaelen said: "Just let It starve. House catching fire then the rat automatically must run out. And the more full the kids eat then the earlier they return, returning then the whole family goes catching rats."

Sane thought for a moment, his mouth corners smirking up: "Then tonight letting them eat a really huge meal."

The night wind on the Temple roof was bone-chillingly cold, Kaelen shrank his neck back. Sane pulled him inside the cloak, hugging entirely from behind, his chin resting on his shoulder.

"The entire continent in one night." Kaelen leaned entirely onto his chest: "Can you manage it?"

"You think who you are asking?" Sane said, then leaned close to his ear whispering adding some sentence. Kaelen hearing finishing then his ear rims flushed entirely red, nudged his elbow into his belly once, and that nudge was as light as scratching an itch.

That night, the tree roots under Kaelen’s hands spread out across the continent like a net cast down into a pond, threading under mountains, drilling under the sea bed, tracing to wherever finding coal to there.

Sane only needed to tilt his face up to the sky snapping his fingers, thus thunder rumbled from the Eastern coastline rumbling over all the way to the Western sand land. The sky didn’t have a single cloud wisp yet purple lightning kept pouring down like rain, every church got a share.

In the sand land, every church courtyard also spouted up a water spring, camel herding citizens dragged each other out burying their heads drinking, both drinking and cursing the God of Light for several hundred years not giving even a ladle of water, changing a Deity then having a stream immediately.

In several Southern islands, fishermen looking at the horned statue kept firmly believing it was the Sea God, morning came chanted calling each other bringing fish up offering, covering completely even the threshold.

While in Ostmark merchant city, the carving guild boss old man stayed awake the whole night, the rooster not yet crowing had already let the workers finish carving two hundred barefooted statues made of wood as large as a hand span, selling cheaper than God of Light statues by half yet still profiting double.

Someone asked why God statues sold so cheaply, the old man laughed ’he he’ saying cheap then only having many people worship, many people worship then the Deity is newly happy!

Twelve Holy Knights ordered to guard the statues in the Westmoor city grand cathedral fell asleep not knowing when. Morning came the statues on the altar had sprouted horns, while the armors on their bodies were covered tightly by a green moss layer, wiping forever not clean.

The most pitiful was the Bishop of a riverside city half a day’s journey away from Cathalan. He received the Holy Decree from dusk, eagerly hired immediately two hundred foundation digging laborers in the night, digging to the third watch then the church tilted entirely to one side.

The laborer crowd threw their hoes running scattering in panic, exactly when the tree roots under the foundation sprouted up supporting the wall, supporting for it to be straight again, conveniently sprouting exactly a flower arch on the roof.

On the cloud layer, the Law kid this time did not cry, because Heavenly Dao had stuffed ready into his ears two cloud lumps since dusk.

This time Sane also didn’t bother counting anymore. Faith threads returned too much, counting to wherever tangling to there, he had to gather a whole handful shoving into his shirt pocket, every once in a while again reached his hand in touching once.

Near morning, the bracelet on Kaelen’s wrist vibrated violently.

[Papa! Daddy! Why my statues across the continent all turn into statues of you two entirely like this?!]

Another text line appeared right below: [Orion sulked from midnight until now you know. But we are very full, thank you two fathers.]

Kaelen laughed to the point his shoulders trembled. Sane glanced over once, coldly said: "Tell him to return then demand."

Kaelen typed back exactly identical to that sentence, finishing typing even added one more line: [Eating full already then return quickly, Papa misses you kids.]

Simultaneously at that moment, under the deepest basement of the Temple, the Pope knelt before the statue throughout the whole night. Exactly every thunder sound outdoors rumbling past then the flame inside the statue’s palm shrank a bit, shrinking from as large as a basket down to only as large as a fist, arriving at the rooster crowing time then only remained as tiny as a bean grain.

He held his two hands out to the point of turning completely tired and sore yet did not feel a single bit of warmth.

[Lord...] He tilted his face looking up at the pitch-black basement dome, his voice cracking completely: [You truly abandoned me already huh?]

On the basement dome completely no one answered.

That morning, the servant bringing the washbasin into the room dropped exactly even the basin, because His Holiness the Pope only through one night had aged several dozens of years, his facial skin sagging like dried tangerine peels, his back hunched down, his two hands mottled with age spots trembling violently.

On the Temple roof, Sane looked down at the window currently noisy with human voices, huffing once: "Little rat."

He lifted his face looking up at the sky, the spot the milky white thread cloud last night still shot up: "The sewer rat then is still up there."

Kaelen looked up following him. The sky had brightened completely, deeply blue without a single cloud wisp. However both of them heard very clearly, from a place far endlessly far that even Heavenly Dao could not reach, just echoed down a teeth-grinding sound.