Chapter 41#
Temple of the Burning Lamp 12#
These words left Yu Feichen momentarily unsure how to respond.
“You—” He had meant to scold Ludwig the way he used to scold his employers. He got as far as one word, but when he saw Luther’s right hand still resting on the badge on his chest, not yet lowered, his voice unconsciously softened a little. “Why are you tired?”
He had personally witnessed Ludwig sleep through three‑quarters of the day, unconscious the entire time, and even looked surprised to see Molly appear in Bai Song’s room—almost like he couldn’t believe that Yu Feichen had rescued someone.
So among all these people, the one who should be theleasttired was His Holiness. Could having a wound possibly tire out a person that much? Even the pressure‑stopping of the bleeding had been done by someone else for him.
Ludwig withdrew his hand, didn’t answer, and simply looked at him quietly, completely at ease.
Human laziness, it seemed, could reach astonishing heights.
Fine.
Let’s play along then.
Yu Feichen said, “Do you need me to help you walk?”
Ludwig: “…No.”
No? Then let’s go.
Bai Song walked ahead, constantly turning around to check on them. He noticed that after the two exchanged a few words, Brother Yu’s attitude had shifted into something… hard to define: earnest yet perfunctory, proactive yet tinged with resignation, meticulous yet subtly sarcastic. But upon further scrutiny, he also seemed to be enjoying himself.
“There’s a step here, Your Holiness.”
“The ground ahead is uneven, be careful.”
“The wind is strong, should I shield you?”
They turned a corner and reached the main path of the temple. The breeze was nearly nonexistent; even the leaves on the branches barely stirred. Yu Feichen walked beside Ludwig, continuing to verbally perform the duties of a knight commander. Finally, His Holiness the Pope turned his head expressionlessly, his dark‑green eyes giving Yu Feichen a cool, cutting glance.
Yu Feichen finally shut up. And when Ludwig turned away, Yu Feichen looked at his profile and couldn’t help letting the corner of his lips curl up.
A Pope who’s taken the wrong medicine is… pretty amusing, actually.
(T/N : Taken wrong medicine means to act strangely)
Still, wrong medicine or no, the Pope is still the Pope. One could see Ludwig walking along the temple path in luxurious black, posture elegant and composed, just like that first night when he appeared inside the temple doors. Except, that night he had been cold and distant, exuding authority and untouchable majesty. Now, he was quiet and calm, walking peacefully beside him—no sense of vigilance, almost like he’d been put on automatic follow‑mode.
The temple was nearly empty in the early morning. Guided by the Empress’s map, they arrived at the storage room in the backyard. The temple had no library; its texts, books, alchemy materials, and ritual supplies were all piled inside the storage room. Outsiders were allowed to enter but not take anything out. For this reason, the Empress’s team had missed the start of the ceremony while searching for ritual procedures.
The gatekeeping monk opened the heavy wooden door, and they stepped inside.
A towering bookshelf stretched from ceiling to floor, eight full levels packed with books of all sizes.
“Two levels per person,” Yu Feichen said. “Finish before noon. Look for anything important.” With that, he pulled a stack of books from the top shelf and began flipping quickly through them in an open space.
There were many books, but most were useless—alchemy manuals and astrology texts. What they needed were religious, historical, or legendary sources.
The sound of pages flipping filled the room nonstop. Worthless books went back onto the shelves; anything useful was placed in the center. As the sunlight grew stronger, the pile at the center finally amounted to… three books.
Threeverythin books.
“Let’s summarize?” Yu Feichen held a black‑covered book and looked at the three thin volumes lying on the ground.
“It’s possible the dungeon restricted us intentionally. None of these contain proper scriptures or historical records,” the Scholar said. “I only found a collection of legends. It mentions two gods: the God of Light who brings life, and the God of Shadows who brings death. Humans fervently worshiped the God of Light, which made the God of Shadows jealous. Therefore, wherever shadows existed, evil spirits roamed, killing humans. To resist the shadows, people invented candles so even at night they could fend off evil spirits and sleep peacefully. Then the God of Shadows grew furious and cast down a thick black shroud.”
As he spoke, he showed an illustration—ferocious darkness devouring the light.
“In another story, there is a role called the Pope. After the black shroud rose, people began believing in the temple and the Holy Son instead of the Pope, which made the Pope jealous… or something like that.”
Ludwig smiled faintly.
After the Scholar finished, Bai Song said, “I found a medical book. I thought that in any world with life, medicine must be important. But apparently medicine barely exists here… I even looked at a few romance novels. Whenever the main character fell sick, there would only be one sentence: ‘After the ritual, he recovered.’”
Yu Feichen: “Get to the point.”
“In this world, ancient medicine has been lost. Only a few potion recipes remain, and they’re hard to decipher. Modern medicine is very simple—they believe ‘life’ is a type of force. If a part of the body is sick, it lacks that corresponding force. So if someone’s hand is sick, they chop off a few other people’s hands to perform a ritual so that the patient’s hand receives the force and recovers. If someone is burned, they peel the skin off several healthy people and hang it up around him—the more skin, and the more complete the skin, the faster he heals…” At this point, Bai Song unconsciously edged closer to Brother Yu for safety.
“It’s the same for other body parts. Whatever’s sick, you use healthy body parts from others as offerings. And the scary thing is—it actually works. Unless the illness is extremely severe, people can be healed.” Bai Song whispered, “So during that ritual we saw… they really might have been trying to keep the Holy Son alive… I’m done.”
Next was Ludwig.
“I found a book praising the Holy Son. Every hundred years, a Holy Son is born somewhere in the vast land of Casablanca. The temple seeks them out. It’s easy to find them—the Holy Son is a baby with no shadow, the embodiment of pure light.”
“The temple takes the baby away to raise them. Before they learn human language, they must first learn the prayers that summon the light. Whenever the Holy Son begins praying, the Black Veil stops rising.”
Perhaps because of the storage room’s echoes, Ludwig’s tone carried a faint melancholy.
“The Holy Son serves the God of Light for their entire life. They may not meet outsiders except priests, elders, and nuns, and they may not leave the temple. Aside from the minimal time needed for eating and sleeping, they must pray continuously without pause.”
Bai Song: “…Holy crap.”
“However, interestingly—on this page, someone left marks in red ink.” Ludwig showed the page. A giant red X had been drawn across it, and in the corner were two lines:
“Priests, go to hell!”
“I already know what scares you the most~~”
Below the words was a doodled devil face with sharp fangs.
“The handwriting is childish. The ink has faded, but not too much—the writing isn’t very old,” Yu Feichen said, looking at the words.
Ludwig said quietly, “It seems the temple once had a rather naughty Holy Son.”
After speaking, he fell silent. Perhaps His Holiness the Pope was tired again, Yu Feichen thought.
So Yu Feichen continued with the final summary.
“Humans and evil spirits are opposed. The God of Light and the God of Shadows are opposed. The temple and the Pope have bad relations. And the Elixir of Life we’re looking for also follows the logic of ‘ritual sacrifice’—and it works. Meanwhile, the temple is indeed genuinely trying to save the Holy Son.”
Round and round, and they had returned to the starting point.
“So…” the Scholar frowned deeply. “Did we just read all this for nothing?”
“No,” Yu Feichen said. “I’ve been thinking about something. Why us? Why did our assigned roles come to the temple? Who invited us?”
“Wasn’t it the temple?”
“But the temple and the Pope don’t get along in these legends, and the nuns truly ignore Ludwig. Normally, Ludwig would never appear here.”
“Maybe the temple was desperate?”
“But I also found this.” Yu Feichen opened the black book. The content wasn’t important—the key was the metal bookmark stuck between the pages. It bore a thorn‑rose emblem. He folded down Ludwig’s stiff collar, revealing the exact same thorn‑rose embroidery.
“A bookmark belonging to the Pope is inside the temple’s books. Either he has been here before, or he knows someone here and gave them his bookmark.”
After saying this, Yu Feichen was reminded of something—the hidden passage in the Pope’s and Knight Commander’s rooms that the cloaked old man hadn’t known about. Also, the different room sizes and furnishings—these were not simple guest rooms.
He said, “I now suspect the Pope and the Knight Commander are regular visitors of the temple. Perhaps all the roles we’re playing have been here before. At first, I thought the temple wouldn’t do such a thing. But today, we discovered something new—the Holy Son in this temple is a… rather unconventional person.”
He finished and lifted Ludwig’s collar back into place.
“You’re saying—we’re actually the Holy Son’s guests? Or friends?” Bai Song asked.
“Yes.”
“And now the Holy Son is dying, so he invited his trusted friends to help him figure something out… that does sound… reasonable?” Bai Song said.
It did. So reasonable it felt a bit unsettling.
Just then, in the silent temple, a bell suddenly rang again. A dark shadow passed across the window—monks were gathering once more.
Why was there another ceremony today?
« Prev|TOC|Next »
Like what I do? ❤ Please consider buying me aKo-fi~ 🙂