Ch 195: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Mu Xing was startled awake by the commotion outside.

He pulled his awareness outward and glanced around. At first glance, he noticed that the temple looked completely different—much cleaner and more beautiful, with flowers everywhere.

But he only gave it a quick look.

Because right beside him, someone was fighting.

To be precise, it was Or… and a giant white lion?

The tall, handsome man—Mu Xing’s gaze pierced through his human form in an instant and saw his true body.

A massive snow lion, pure white without a trace of other color. Its fur was bristling, mouth emitting a threatening roar, and its golden eyes glared at the high priest in front of it.

“What kind of person just attacks without saying a word first!” Amos fumed, rubbing at his left ear.

The tip of it was burning hot; just now, a fireball had grazed past his cheek without mercy.

For the thick-skinned snow lion, this little burn was nothing. What made him furious was that a few strands of the flawless hair by his ear had been scorched.

That damned Naya priest dared to damage his perfect fur.

The gold of his eyes darkened—a clear sign of an orc’s anger.

Or’s voice was ice-cold. “Any blasphemer who dares show disrespect to my god deserves death.”

Mu Xing: “…”

Don’t say things like that. It makes me sound like some dark, evil deity.

Perhaps from generations of high priests being indoctrinated, Or’s loyalty and zeal for the divine had reached an almost pathological level.

That wasn’t quite right.

Mu Xing spoke: “Or.”

Or froze, then his face lit up with ecstasy. Ignoring Amos, he dropped to his knees. “My God! Was it You who called to me?”

Mu Xing deliberately used the lofty tone of a fortune-teller to admonish him: “Calmness, kindness, and tolerance are the virtues you should possess.”

Or blinked, then lowered his head in deep shame. “I was wrong.”

Without hesitation, he turned to Amos and apologized. “Forgive me, guest from Vista, for my rudeness just now.”

Just as expected.

Mu Xing had only wanted to test how to handle a fanatic like this.

The result was clear: he didn’t need to think of any strategies at all.

He only needed to give direct orders. In Or’s eyes, whatever the god said was right. Any command, even an order for him to end his own life, he would carry out without hesitation.

Amos, seeing this man inexplicably apologizing to him, could easily guess that the cold priest must have been speaking with someone unseen.

Could it really be Naya’s god?

He stared suspiciously at the crystal orb atop the high platform, his nose twitching slightly, as if catching some faint scent.

Seeing him staring straight at the crystal that carried his god’s soul, Or’s brows knit together. He instinctively wanted to scold him—but then remembered the divine admonition just moments ago, and forcibly swallowed the words.

God had said: be tolerant, be kind.

In the time Or was restraining himself, Amos had already padded lightly toward the platform.

A nose keener than any Naya’s caught a peculiar scent.

He stared fixedly at the crystal sphere, unable to resist stretching out a paw—

Whoosh!

If he hadn’t pulled back in time, that razor-sharp wind blade would have cost him his hand.

“Shameless Vista orc!” Or’s voice shook with fury, his emerald eyes blazing with fire. “How dare you desecrate my god with your filthy hand!”

Amos: “…”

He awkwardly rubbed his nose and stepped back.

Fine. This time, he admitted, he had indeed overstepped.

“My apologies, that was my mistake,” he said, retreating several steps under the high priest’s watchful gaze.

For the sake of the flowers Amos had brought—and more importantly, because the god had spoken—Or decided not to pursue the matter.

His face remained stern. “Since the offering has concluded, guest, please leave the temple.”

Amos walked out helplessly, but even as he went, he cast several longing looks at the crystal orb.

Just now, he could have sworn he caught a familiar scent.

It was just like snowgrass, the snow lion’s favorite plant. One whiff, and he felt an irresistible urge to shift into beast form, roll lazily on the ground, and have someone brush his fur.

Watching the magnificent lion leave, Mu Xing turned to his high priest.

Or’s face was still cold, clearly still simmering with anger from earlier.

Mu Xing said, “Or, there is no need for anger. I do not mind such small matters.”

He had only meant to tell Or not to be so sensitive about everything concerning him. Or was supposed to be a calm and intelligent high priest, but the moment anything touched upon “the god,” he would explode instantly.

Such an obvious weakness.

Yet Or’s face shone with emotion at his words. “My God truly is merciful and loving, possessed of supreme virtue. Your purity is cleaner than the dewdrops on a morning petal, brighter and more selfless than the flawless moon in the night sky. Your heart is as vast as the River Edoli…”

Mu Xing: “…”

Here we go again.

Praise rolling off his tongue like mass production.

He endured it, listening to the flowery words as if it were a poetry recital. Interrupting would do no good anyway.

Finally, when the flood of praise ended, Or’s expression cooled slightly. “But, Your tolerance is not an excuse for the insolent to offend You.”

He lifted his head, eyes resolute as he gazed toward where Mu Xing resided. “As Your high priest, Your most devout believer, I cannot allow anyone to so much as graze You with offense!”

Mu Xing let out a soft sigh.

Perhaps he himself had no faith, and it was difficult for him to truly understand such emotions.

But a lack of understanding did not mean he could not feel it.

From Or, and from the Naya people who offered devotion to him, Mu Xing clearly felt the surging, sincere emotions.

And these emotions, falling upon him, transformed into threads of golden light, nourishing his divine power.

This was the power of faith.

He looked at the flowers in the temple.

Each of them had been picked at the height of their beauty, carefully taken down to be offered to their god.

It was their way of expressing reverence and love.

Mu Xing sighed softly. “I already know your hearts. But these flowers, if left on their branches, still had days of beauty ahead. Once picked, their time is short.”

He had only spoken in regret.

But as his gaze fell on the flowers, the blossoms sprouted fresh leaves and roots before Or’s eyes—his expression shifting from shock to ecstatic joy.

The flowers had regained life.

If not for the thick stone slabs covering the temple floor, they might have immediately planted themselves back into the earth.

Witnessing this, Or fell to his knees again, loudly proclaiming a miracle.

Meanwhile, a knight who had been crawling atop the high dome to dismantle a skylight happened to see everything.

Stunned, he nearly dropped to his knees then and there, forgetting he was still clinging to the window ledge. His hand slipped, and he tumbled down—only saved because his comrade caught him in time.

But he paid no mind to the near fall. Wide-eyed with awe, he shouted, “A miracle! I saw a miracle!”

He eagerly retold what he had just witnessed.

At that very moment, High Priest Or emerged from the temple, instructing the faithful to enter and carry out the flowers.

They replanted the blossoms around the temple, while the falling petals were carefully collected and treasured. Each one was tucked into pockets close to the body.

After all, these petals had been touched by their god’s grace.

Brought home, surely they would bring blessings.

The commotion in the Naya Kingdom could not be hidden.

Soon, word spread that the Naya god seemed to be awakening.

The first to receive the news was the Nato Kingdom.

Its common people cheered—though they had seceded, they were still Naya by blood.

They would never forget the glory of the once-great empire that ruled the continent, nor the god who had sheltered the land for countless millennia.

But the royal house of Nato fell briefly into panic.

They did not much believe the rumors, and even less did they wish them true.

The Nato royal family had once been nobles of the Naya Empire. After the empire fractured, they took their soldiers and retainers to found the Nato Kingdom.

Later, with the support of the Tianhai Empire, they stood as rivals against the Naya Kingdom.

In the long years since, the Nato royals had already changed their faith.

And they knew well: should the god awaken, without even a word, the people of Nato would abandon them.

The Vista Empire and the Tianhai Empire soon heard the news as well.

The war temple’s wizard and the high archbishop of the temple of light hastened into their respective sanctuaries.

War Temple.

An aged, white-haired wizard bowed within the temple and reported the news from the Naya Kingdom to his god.

After a long wait, a thunderous voice boomed from the sanctuary:

“The god awakening? Galia died long ago, not even ashes remain. How could there be resurrection? Nonsense!”

The wizard asked cautiously, “Then, my god, should we take any measures?”

The thunderous voice echoed from all directions: “Why bother? Let the Naya deal with their own affairs.”

“…Yes, my god,” the wizard murmured.

Temple of Light.

The archbishop’s rites were far more elaborate.

He bathed and robed himself in holy water infused with light’s power, then carefully washed his hands in a basin filled with flower petals.

Only when he was certain he was elegant, refined, clean, and fragrant did he enter the temple’s inner sanctum—where only those of archbishop rank or higher could step.

He knelt before a golden basin brimming with clear water.

His voice flowed like music as he prayed:

“Almighty God, your servant brings word: the god of the Naya Kingdom is said to be awakening. We cannot know whether the news is true, nor dare we rashly peer into a god’s domain. Thus we seek your will—how shall we act?”

Ripples spread across the water in the basin, widening in concentric circles.

The archbishop held his breath, waiting.

But no answer came.