Chapter 33 – The Least Blasphemous Episode
Late at night, Ning Lu stood near the administrator's residence without going in, simply waiting and watching in silence from the woods edging the hill.
Over the past few days he had already mapped out the upcoming Lent festival schedule: first, the chosen "spring sprite," Ava Lizier, would be paraded through the village square and delivered from door to door, then taken to the garden beside the magistrate's mansion.
That was the end point of the first segment, the "Blessing Parade."
Once there, the village youths would escort "spring sprite" Ava out of the village toward the mountain river for the second rite, the "Riverside Ceremony."
After the riverside ceremony came the third segment inside the Eternal Blazing Sun's church.
When that ended and they left the church, someone would announce the close of the entire Lent festival and send the "spring sprite" on her way.
Of course, in this twisted version of the festival the "spring sprite" would be dispatched with a single axe-blow, turning her into a "spring (sprite."
A rustle sounded in the distance; Ning Lu turned and saw Lumian step out from behind the bushes.
Thanks to his heightened Superior Observation, he noticed the shovel in Lumian's hand and the faint soil granules on his clothes, so he smiled and said to the boy in front of him:
"Finished digging the traps?"
"Yes." Lumian answered modestly:
"Just as you said, I didn't set any traps beside the church—though I didn't see the Parish Priest or anyone else, I couldn't be sure my movements wouldn't be spotted and give away our goal. I only laid a few different traps on the hill and by the river, disguised as leftovers the village hunters forgot to clear."
"Well done." Ning Lu nodded.
"Next we'll plant something like explosives next to the church."
He took several items from inside his coat—some powder, some liquid—all of them materials he had brought from mystery timeline, each laced with Beyonder power.
"Combined, they form a mystic-level explosive. Not as potent as mystic smelling salts, but enough to blow the church pillars to splinters."
Blow up a church… Lumian didn't understand the phrase "mystic smelling salts," yet Aurore often tossed out terms he couldn't follow, so he let it pass.
What rattled—and thrilled—the village-raised youth was how casually Ning Lu spoke of demolishing the church. For the first time he felt a spark of "kindred spirit" admiration for the godfather he had just accepted:
This was far more radical than any prank he'd ever pulled!
"…But won't that be blasphemy?" Lumian couldn't help asking. "After all, it's Saint Sith's church…"
"Hardly blasphemy—just blowing up a church to catch heretics. The Eternal Blazing Sun shouldn't send divine punishment for that; worry about the official Beyonders' human version instead."
Ning Lu led Lumian downhill as he spoke casually:
"Where I come from there are angels who file a report before blowing up their own sanctuaries…"
Lumian couldn't parse that sentence at all; he didn't know how Intis words could be arranged like that. Under a veil of thin grey mist the pair quickly sketched several hidden ritual arrays; whenever one was finished Ning Lu smeared a wisp of grey fog over it like frosting, using Sefirah Castle's power to shield the arrays so the dream-priests wouldn't notice.
The arrays involved no prayers; they were basically upgraded chemical bombs, merely boosted and triggered by Beyonder force.
On the way home Lumian was uncharacteristically quiet. Almost at the door he finally asked in a low voice:
"Godfather, do you think we'll succeed?"
"Of course." Ning Lu answered as they climbed to the second floor.
"But brace yourself—this ritual is no simple matter, and even I can't extract more information from the clues we have."
He turned his head:
"Perhaps only when we break the rite will the hidden secrets surface."
"Rest well tonight; tomorrow's festival is when you'll need your strength."
Lumian nodded, looked at Ning Lu seated in the room, then slowly closed his eyes.
Watching him, Ning Lu smiled; grey mist drifted about him and his figure flickered like a ghost shuttling through fog.
When Ning Lu opened his eyes again, he saw the Celestial Worthy inside Sefirah Castle, sipping tea while watching gray-fog puppets fight.
Spotting Ning Lu, the Worthy gave a lazy "Yo" and turned to him:
"…Let me guess—you've got something to tell me."
"You always guess, but this time you're right." Ning Lu dragged over a clump of gray fog, kneaded it into a chair, and set it beside the Worthy.
"Haven't you seen plenty through my eyes? Why still watch your homemade puppet show?" Ning Lu indicated the fog figurines before the Worthy.
"Shoo, shoo—what's so interesting about the dream you're in?" The Worthy sounded bored. "You're not planning to have any fun inside it; surely you won't begrudge me some amusement?"
"This is only the first layer of the dream," Ning Lu chuckled. "Yet you didn't notice your own handiwork inside it?"
The Worthy turned, starlight glimmering in his eyes as he regarded Ning Lu.
After a moment he spoke, tone as cold and vast as the eternal cosmos:
"You shouldn't be able to see that. No one knows a Cryptologist's limits better than I."
His gaze sharpened, voice utterly certain:
"Then… you've glimpsed something of the future."
"Did you overdraw Sefirah Castle or use your own authority?"
"Perhaps neither." Ning Lu replied, still smiling.
"Didn't you keep saying you wanted to cooperate with me? Having second thoughts now?"