Jiang Lin stood in front of the blacksmith shop all day, observing the reactions of the people.
Some believed, some were still waiting to see, while others scoffed and turned away.
Yet, no one came to cause trouble, nor did anyone run to report them to the converted in the northern district.
The rift in this city ran deeper than they had anticipated.
For those who hadn't been converted, their hatred for the black-robed men and the Demon God statue was far stronger than their fear.
They simply lacked an opportunity to resist, a spark that could show them hope.
And now, that spark was here.
By evening, Jiang Lin found an empty stone house near the city wall in the southern district.
The owner was said to have been taken away by the black-robed men, never to return.
The stone house wasn't large—just three rooms and a courtyard—but it was enough to serve as a temporary foothold.
Cyrus laid down soundproofing and early-warning runes around the stone house, Mavis and Selene cleaned the place up, Good gathered some dry firewood and straw from nearby, and Lothar stood guard at the courtyard entrance.
Dorian and Victor went out again, scouting the northern and western districts to confirm the latest movements of the converted.
Jiang Lin sat on the stone steps in the courtyard, taking out the crystal sheet that recorded the new Holy Light magic formula to continue optimizing it.
The day's practical experience had given him new inspiration.
When that half-person-tall Holy Light statue was erected in front of the blacksmith shop, he could feel that the energy environment around it had undergone some changes.
It was like a crack being chipped into a block of solid ice; though the block remained intact, the fracture had appeared.
If he could embed more Holy Light statues along these cracks to form a network, perhaps they could gradually weaken the control of the Demon God statue without forcefully destroying it, creating the conditions for the widespread propagation of the faith of the righteous gods.
He drew a new layout on the crystal sheet.
The city was roughly circular, with the Demon God statue at the center.
He chose three spots in the southern district, two in the western district, and two in the eastern district, preparing to erect Holy Light statues in sequence.
If all seven statues could be erected, they would form an incomplete circular network around the Demon God statue.
While it wouldn't completely suppress the Demon God statue, it would provide sufficient protection for the natives who had not yet been converted.
They settled into the stone house.
Over the next few days, Jiang Lin left early and returned late every day, traversing the streets and alleys of the southern, western, and eastern districts. He searched for suitable sites to erect the statues, conversed with the natives, and spread the faith of the righteous gods.
He stopped mentioning the name of the God of Holy Light specifically, instead using the term “righteous gods” to collectively refer to the seven deities.
He had realized that these natives didn't care which specific god they believed in; what they cared about was whether this god could protect them and allow them to live with dignity as human beings.
“The Seven Righteous Gods each have their own paths,” he explained, sitting in a fabric shop to the shopkeeper and a few neighbors. “The God of Holy Light governs order and protection, the God of War governs courage and battle, and the Goddess of Life governs healing and growth. Believe in whichever one aligns with your strengths and needs. There is no forced uniformity, only a requirement for sincerity.”
The fabric shopkeeper was a widow in her forties whose husband had been taken away by the black-robed men, never to return.
She stared at the small statue of the Goddess of Life that Jiang Lin had placed on her counter. After a long silence, she asked softly,
“Can this goddess protect my daughter and let her grow up safely?”
“She can,” Jiang Lin replied. “But it's not as simple as making a wish and having her grant it. You need to teach your daughter to walk the path of the Goddess of Life—revering life, protecting life, and passing life on. If you do that, she will naturally protect you.”
The shopkeeper nodded. She placed the small statue in the most prominent spot on the counter and wiped it repeatedly with a clean cloth.
Her daughter peeked out from behind the counter. She looked to be about seven or eight years old, with two small braids and bright eyes set in a thin face.
She looked at the white statue, reached out, and touched it gingerly.
“Mom, it's not cold.”
The shopkeeper froze for a moment, then reached out to stroke her daughter's head, her eyes welling with tears.
The faith spread faster than Jiang Lin had anticipated.
By the fifth day, more than half of the southern district's population had accepted the presence of at least one statue of the righteous gods.
Some believed in the Holy Light, some in the Goddess of Life, some in the God of War, and some believed in two or three simultaneously, claiming, “It never hurts to pray to a few more.”
Jiang Lin didn't correct them. The seeds of faith had just sprouted; he couldn't rush to prune the branches.
It was best to first let them feel that the power of the righteous gods was good, warm, and protective; the rest could come slowly.
Progress in the western and eastern districts was slightly slower, but it was steadily advancing.
Dorian and Victor's scouting reports indicated that the converted residents of the northern district seemed somewhat aware of the changes in the southern district, yet no one had come to stop them.
They were like a pack of cornered beasts trapped in a cage—though numerous and powerful, they lacked a commanding will to drive them to action.
“After those black-robed men left, these converted were left in a leaderless state,” Lothar analyzed. “They only act on instinct: protecting the statue and attacking any nearby sources of danger. Since we aren't currently perceived as a threat, they haven't reacted.”
“What if we build a statue of the righteous gods directly in the northern district?”
Good asked.
“That would definitely trigger a conflict,” Lothar shook his head. “Their instincts would drive them to attack any heretic attempting to approach the Demon God statue. It's not time yet. We must first secure the southern, western, and eastern districts, turning these three areas into our strongholds, before figuring out a way to gradually push north.”
Good scratched his bald head and didn't ask further.
On the evening of the sixth day, while Jiang Lin was in the courtyard optimizing the layout of the Holy Light magic formula, the Apostle Brand on his chest suddenly grew warm.
It was Lothar contacting him through the brand.
“There's movement to the north,” Lothar's voice was low and urgent. “Dorian and Victor spotted three black-robed men approaching the city from the north. They're about ten miles away, moving slowly.”
Jiang Lin put away his crystal sheet and stood up.
“How many, and what rank?”
“Three. One 6th-rank peak, and two 6th-rank mid-stage. They aren't the two who escaped earlier; they're new faces.”
Jiang Lin fell silent for a moment.
Three Demon God Apostles—two mid-stage and one peak—was fewer than he had expected.
Perhaps they were scouts, perhaps they were sent to tighten control over the city, or perhaps they were bait for a counterattack by the Demon God Believers.
Whatever their purpose, since they had delivered themselves to his doorstep, he couldn't let them return.
“Where should we intercept them?”
“The withered forest five miles north of the city. The open visibility there makes it suitable for an ambush. Good and I are already heading over.”
“I'll be right there.”
As twilight deepened, the sky over Caeous transitioned from a light purple to a dark, near-indigo hue.
The north wind blew from the direction of the rift, carrying that familiar, pungent odor of scorched earth and sulfur.
The withered forest rustled in the wind, its bare branches swaying in the gloom like countless skeletal arms.
By the time Jiang Lin arrived, Lothar and Good were already in position.
Lothar crouched behind a withered tree, his silver-white greatsword resting across his knees. The holy light runes on the blade had quietly lit up, casting an extremely faint golden halo in the twilight.
Good crouched thirty feet to his right, the tower shield that stood nearly as tall as him planted in front of him. The God of War runes on the shield's surface remained dark in the shadows, resembling a silent stone wall.
Dorian and Victor didn't show themselves, but Jiang Lin's Space Perception captured their positions.
Dorian was in a patch of shrubs on the eastern side, his shortbow already nocked.
Victor was in the canopy of a withered tree on the western side, his entire body blending into the shadows of the branches, making him almost impossible to distinguish.
“Where are they?” Jiang Lin crouched beside Lothar, lowering his voice.
“Still two miles away,” Lothar's gaze pierced through the gaps in the withered trees, looking out toward the open, grayish-brown plain to the north. “They're walking very slowly, as if waiting for something.”
“Waiting for what?”
“I don't know,” Lothar shook his head. “Perhaps waiting for nightfall, or perhaps waiting for others. Either way, something isn't right.”
Jiang Lin fell silent for a moment, then closed his eyes, extending his Space Perception northward with all his might.
The pale silver perception field spread along the ground, sweeping through the withered forest, across the shrubs and gravel on the plain, all the way to the dirt road two miles away.
Three black-robed men were traveling south along the dirt road packed tight by carriage wheels and footsteps.
The leader was tall, his hood pulled down low, revealing only a pale chin.
His stride was steady, the distance between each step nearly identical. It didn't look like he was in a rush; it looked more like he was taking a stroll.
The two behind him trailed a few paces back, positioned to his left and right in a triangular formation.
Their auras were indeed as Lothar had described: one 6th-rank peak and two 6th-rank mid-stage.
But Jiang Lin felt that something was off.
He continued to extend his perception outward.
Three miles, four miles, five miles.
And then, he “saw” it.
Roughly two miles behind those three black-robed men, there were seven other auras.
They were exceptionally well-hidden, blending into the surrounding environment. If one wasn't actively searching for them, they would be nearly impossible to detect.
These auras moved at an extremely slow pace, maintaining a precise distance behind the three black-robed men in front, like a pack of wolves stalking prey.
“Seven,” Jiang Lin opened his eyes, keeping his voice very low. “There are seven more following behind. Plus the three in front, that makes exactly ten.”
“Ten against eight,” Good's voice came from the right, low and steady. “We can still fight.”
“They know we're here,” Lothar tapped his fingers lightly on his hilt. “Otherwise, they wouldn't have adopted this formation. The three in front are bait, and the seven behind are the ambush. If we rashly strike the three in front, the seven in the rear will close in on us from behind.”
“Then we won't act rashly,” Jiang Lin looked up, his gaze cutting through the withered forest toward the gray plain in the distance. “Let them enter the woods. We know the terrain here better than they do, and I've already set up the spatial anchors in advance.”
Lothar glanced at him.
“When did you set them?”
“Before we entered the city. This forest is the only path leading here from the north; I knew it would come in handy sooner or later.”
Lothar fell silent for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, unsure whether to laugh or feel speechless.
“You kid...” he murmured under his breath, then stood up, shifting his position with his greatsword in hand. “Everyone, listen up. Let them enter the woods. We strike once they're inside. Stay together—two or three to a group, cover each other.”
“Roger.”
“Understood.”
“Got it.”
A few brief responses came through the Apostle Brand.
Jiang Lin stood up from behind the withered tree and retreated a few paces deeper into the forest. Finding an old tree with a thick trunk, he leaned against it, suppressing his aura to the absolute minimum.
His Space Perception continued to lock onto the ten approaching auras.
The three black-robed men in front had already reached the edge of the withered forest.
Without pausing, they walked straight into the woods.
Their pace remained unhurried, as if this withered forest were just an ordinary path.
The seven behind followed suit, their distance closing from two miles to one, and then to half a mile.
The moment they had all stepped into the withered forest, Jiang Lin raised his hand and made a grasping motion toward the ten auras.
Spatial Anchoring · Node Detonation.
Eleven spatial anchors buried in advance lit up simultaneously. Silver-white light burst forth from various points in the withered forest, resembling a string of ignited stars in the twilight.
The light interwoven, connected, and coiled in the air, condensing into a massive spatial network that enveloped the entire withered forest.
“They're here!”
Lothar barked, leaping out from his hiding spot. The holy light runes on his greatsword flared to their limit, and he hurtled like a golden meteor toward the three leading black-robed men.
Good followed closely behind, his tower shield raised as he charged like a runaway carriage toward the two black-robed men on the right who were trying to scatter.
Dorian's arrow flew silently from the eastern shrubs, pinning itself precisely half an inch in front of a retreating black-robed man's foot.
The fletching of the arrow quivered in the wind as the ice runes carved on its shaft suddenly flared.
With the arrow as the center, a layer of frost rapidly spread, freezing the man's feet to the ground.
Victor's figure dropped silently from the canopy, his pitch-black dagger striking straight for a black-robed man's nape.
The battle erupted in an instant.
Jiang Lin was in no hurry to strike.
Standing behind the withered tree, his golden eyes swept across the battlefield. His Space Perception clearly mapped the position, movement, and aura of everyone in his mind.
He saw Lothar's greatsword clash with the dark-red saber of the 6th-rank peak black-robed man.
Golden holy light and dark-red Demon God power exploded in a circular shockwave through the withered forest, snapping the surrounding trees.
Good's tower shield forcefully blocked the simultaneous attacks of two black-robed men. Under the heavy impact, the God of War runes on the shield's surface burst with blinding golden light.
His feet plowed two deep furrows into the ground, but his posture remained completely unyielding.
Dorian's arrows flew out one after another, each shot precisely sealing off a black-robed man's movement path.
Victor's dagger sliced a gash across a black-robed man's shoulder, spraying dark-red blood.
...
Rate on N.U.
