Chapter 113#

Distant Star Reflection 21#

These words brought complete silence.

Cathedral clergy naturally understood the implied meaning, while nobles, though not grasping specific principles, possessed education in language and logic. After hearing this sentence, who couldn’t imagine the danger their world faced?

Space fractures scattered in unknown places. Perhaps stepping forward meant never returning, perhaps without acting snowmen could emerge from twisted fractures approaching. The most terrifying thing was always unpredictability.

Everyone, everything lived under this shadow. Matter continuously leaked through fractures like water seeping through wicker baskets. Had tonight truly proceeded as planned, extinguishing three hundred stars—such massive energy fluctuations throughout the cosmos—how many times worse would circumstances become?

All this stemmed from the cathedral’s implementation of dangerous technology.

Fortunately Bishop Tan Per made these deductions, Bishop Kaven discovered subtle evidence, and the pope decisively ordered the extinguishing stopped.

A celebration banquet became a scene of narrowly escaping death. After prolonged silence, finally a young priest hesitantly spoke, corroborating Bai Song’s hypothesis with professional knowledge. Soon more joined. Older priests and bishops mostly remained silent.

Sensing the increasingly bizarre atmosphere, the pope halted their discussion: “Extinguishing has ceased. Let facts prove or disprove the hypothesis.”

If no more snowmen appeared, naturally proving causation. Yet tallying snowmen incidents across regions required time—results couldn’t appear instantly. The banquet proceeded amid this eerie atmosphere. Major nobles who’d prepared mentally for papal pressure suddenly found no purchase. Lords intending requesting cathedral attention to snowmen received answers, though these answers resembled cathedral scandal. Deep into night did atmosphere warm somewhat with pleasantries and mutual compliments.

Finally, a trembling priest reported that over recent hours, no new snowmen incidents had been reported anywhere.

The banquet hall’s taut string finally relaxed. Regardless cause, at least a major catastrophe had been averted.

Yet the pope’s face showed no happiness. The previous snowmen incidents, publicly proved cathedral errors before all. Though controlling information among commoners remained possible, after tonight the cathedral’s position in nobles’ hearts would shift.

Most nobles, however, showed no signs, even earnestly praising the pope’s decisiveness and correct choice.

Finally, amid praise, the pope spoke gravely: “Issue new orders to the Holy City: henceforth, absolutely no further extinguishing experiments shall proceed.”

——This time, truly an official edict.

Yu Feichen suddenly heard familiar notification sounds.

“Gatekeeper Claros warmly encourages: the world’s progress has changed through your participation. Occupation progress reached 70%. Congratulations! Please continue effort~”

Preventing the pope’s extinguishing plan, saving the civilization from catastrophe—indeed a change.

Claros even had progress-reporting functionality. Yu Feichen felt somewhat pleased. Yet he knew the pope’s mood would be terrible—the “snowmen” trick couldn’t be reused soon.

If those fissures truly appeared randomly, the resulting snowmen weren’t cathedral-controllable. Yet one snowman type the cathedral could precisely control: just as they could extinguish fixed-position stars, positioning mirror stars at two fixed coordinates and reducing energy values could open small wormholes between them. Should a living person enter from one end, the other would show snowmen traces, precisely destroying people or objects.

Yet after tonight, everyone knew the extinguishing-snowmen connection. Henceforth, if snowmen attacked, the cathedral bore direct responsibility.

And he himself need not stand guard anymore. Things progressed well, save one flaw: tonight’s events hadn’t truly wounded the pope. Even controlling nobles’ tongues and telling commoners snowmen were resolved, the cathedral’s reputation among people would greatly increase. Contemplating this, Bishop Kaven approached Yu Feichen’s small tea table, seeming to have something to say.

Yet before Kaven spoke, another arrived: the previously questioning gloomy-faced priest. Kaven seemed familiar with him, saying nothing.

“Duke,” the priest lowly said, “since grasping the cathedral’s weakness, why not wait until after tonight, disaster fully brewed, before revealing it?”

Speaking these words, Yu Feichen recognized another rebel member.

He’d spoken correctly. Currently exposing the problem meant merely weathering a storm for the pope. Wait until greater catastrophe brews, more people—perhaps tens of thousands—die by snowmen before exposing, proving truly devastating.

Yet——

Already possessing 70% progress, Yu Feichen said flatly: “Everyone possesses choices.”

Having spent time with the deity, Yu Feichen felt his ability speaking empty platitudes greatly improved. Such seemingly meaningful emptiness most effectively silenced others.

The priest pondered briefly, offering no opinion: “Timing exists only once. Missed, it never returns.”

Opposite, Bishop Kaven also sensed something, his gaze flickering.

Yu Feichen merely maintained his expression, finishing his ice water. He observed the distant pope’s thoughtful expression, also noted Kaven and the priest’s expressions. Perhaps from honestly examining himself, he could now understand others’ greed, dedication, and choices—previously only finding them laughable. The pope knew extinguishing’s aftereffects yet still sought using it securing worldly power. Rebels, to end this pope’s reign, could disregard all consequences.

Yet he chose doing what a certain deity wished to see. Though toward this choice, he himself felt no resistance.

Night deepened. The banquet ended amid tacit bizarre atmosphere, guests dispersing.

When Windsor passed Yu Feichen, he slightly smiled.

His smile seemed containing words. Yu Feichen said: “What?”

“Tonight, Duke Landon’s gaze seemed aimless, yet constantly pursued a certain red cardinal in the crowd—not Bishop Tan Per,” Windsor said. “I’m curious about the reason.”

Yu Feichen: “His name?”

“Simons,” Windsor said.

Yu Feichen noted the name.

Red cardinals dressed identically, similar hairstyles, even matching slender builds, demeanor unlike Tan Per’s elegant composure. For someone like him unable recognizing faces, precisely identifying one required careful attention, ensuring no oversight.

——When snowmen and extinguishing relationships became public, this Cardinal Simons’ expression proved most complex, even meeting the pope’s gaze twice.

The pope utilized extinguishing technology eliminating enemies—naturally requiring trusted collaborators.

Yu Feichen: “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Windsor, intriguingly regarding the now-empty surroundings, about asking what new chaos the duke intended stirring, found Yu Feichen already vanished. He pulled a face, returning to the crowd seeking Bai Song.

Midnight. Silence attached to the earth like shadow.

Cardinal Simons descended from the shuttle, walking toward his Holy City residence. His thoughts weighed heavily, occasionally glancing at his communications terminal, expecting papal messages. Yet the terminal remained dark.

An ice-cold gun barrel suddenly pressed against his temple.