Chapter 53#

Temple of the Burning Lamp 24#

“The Knight Commander must possess extraordinary decisiveness,” the old man in the cloak said. “The temple will listen to your answer with all its heart. However, the decision must be made quickly.”

Yu Feichen spoke with a smile: “The most true Wise Man must be selected to ensure the Holy Son can be successfully resurrected. But the Wise Man may not necessarily be born from among us guests. I believe you are the true Wise Man.”

“State your reasons.”

As expected, no rules were triggered, and he was temporarily out of danger. This point was easy to observe: Molly, who had also violated the rules, and Bai Song, who confessed to sabotaging the ritual, were not punished. This was because in this ceremony, “successfully resurrecting the Holy Son” was the highest priority, and everything else had to give way to it.

“Searching for these legendary materials is an extremely dangerous task; even finding them is entirely due to luck. Everyone has played to their strengths, such as the Scholar who carried a biological field guide and Madam Qiu Na who carried a parasol. While we have certainly used our wisdom, the act of gathering these seemingly unrelated yet indispensable people together is the truly wise move.”

“Furthermore, I once visited the hall where the Holy Son resides and memorized the map drawn by Her Majesty the Empress. Among these places, I only saw the residences of ordinary monks and nuns, and no trace of the ‘priests and scholars’ you mentioned who deciphered the recipe. The monks and nuns who have lived in the temple for a long time must be more aware of this than I am. If this ancient recipe for the resurrection potion was deciphered by you alone, it further proves your wisdom is matchless.”

Pausing, he looked at Ludwig: “As everyone knows, Pope Ludwig is a sincere partner and friend of the Holy Son and the guardian of Casablanca. The two white-robed nuns beside the Holy Son can testify to this. If you receive the supreme glory of being the ‘Wise Man,’ he can perform the sacrifice on your behalf, and the Holy Son’s resurrection will not be affected in any way.”

Finally, he added a trump card: “The sagacity of the elderly always outweighs the quick-wittedness of the young. Although we are equally eager to sacrifice ourselves for the Holy Son, we are ultimately too young and haven’t gained the wisdom bestowed by time.”

“I’ve finished.”

Under the cloak, the old man’s expression was unreadable.

The Empress crossed her arms coldly, seemingly disagreeing with his approach. Bai Song gave a thumbs-up, implying: Brother Yu, your operations always exceed my expectations.

“Please light the candles.”

The monks and nuns began to move. Yu Feichen watched them.

Since they were willing to have their hearts pierced and throats slit in the previous two sacrificial ceremonies, then “sacrificing for the Holy Son” was not a pain but an honor. If they could do it, then the old man in the cloak could as well.

Moreover, saving the Holy Son was the highest priority directive for all the people in the temple. Since they could think independently, they would make a fair judgment. Compared to these unfamiliar guests, they naturally leaned more toward the old man who had served the temple for many years.

Sure enough, one candle after another lit up, and there were many of them. Finally, it stopped at two hundred and ninety-two.

Yu Feichen quickly did the math in his head: 292, still 350 short of Molly’s 642. He needed to get 351 votes—this would depend on Ludwig’s performance. He hadn’t finished stating his reasons, leaving room for the respected Pope to play his part.

The old man turned to Ludwig: “Respected Pope Ludwig, please nominate the Wise Man in your heart.”

A lazy look appeared in Ludwig’s eyes again. Seeing that things were going south, Yu Feichen quickly moved two steps away from him.

“I agree with the Knight Commander’s view,” Ludwig said.

Having said that, he looked at the Holy Son lying quietly on the crystal bed in the center of the field, his eyelashes lowered, revealing a sad and pained expression. Yu Feichen looked on and felt that this emotion wasn’t acting but was genuine.

“In my early years, I had the honor of reading some ancient texts and learning the art of healing. But I have never seen the kind of injury the Holy Son has suffered. It’s completely impossible for someone who has endured such pain to survive, let alone hold on until now. Presumably, this is related to the two sacrificial ceremonies you presided over; it was you who used the sagacity and insight of the elderly to keep his young life.”

“During our few days in the temple, we have only gathered the materials. Due to our limited wisdom, we still have no clue about the truth behind the Holy Son’s murder. We can only continue to investigate once he wakes up. Failing your expectations, I have tossed and turned every night, unable to sleep peacefully.”

Yu Feichen: “…”

He just quietly watched Ludwig’s performance. This man was basking in the sun, his expression calm yet lazy, but he still lowered his head in a gesture of humility.

“I once considered myself an unparalleled Wise Man and wanted to nominate myself to obtain supreme glory before the gods. However, I ultimately cannot betray the Holy Son, nor can I fail your expectations. You are the only Wise Man of Casablanca.”

“I have finished. Please do not forget to tell the gods and express my repentance for this evil thought.”

He finished speaking, and Yu Feichen finished watching. When it comes to the moral high ground, the Pope was indeed a cut above. The cold Pope set aside his noble posture, and his speech was full of “gods,” “failing,” and “repentance,” and finally, he softly admitted his mistake, looking quite pitiful.

Others were not affected, but these words first moved the two white-robed nuns by the Holy Son’s bed. The white-haired nun among them was already sobbing, saying: “You will always be a good friend of the Holy Son.”

The old man in the cloak said solemnly: “Please light the candles.”

The two hundred and ninety-two people who originally supported the old man in the cloak maintained their support, and in addition, more lights lit up one after another. Under the blinding sunlight, the candles seemed to burn even more brightly, like clusters of blazing torches.

Three hundred and three, three hundred and fourteen, three hundred and thirty-six, three hundred and forty… three hundred and fifty.

Then, there was a brief pause.

Yu Feichen muttered in his heart, keep going.

Finally, a monk in a corner lit the candle in front of him with a strange posture. A few seconds later, another nun also lit a candle.

There was no need to look further; three hundred and fifty-two, it was a settled matter. The old man’s votes from just two rounds added up to exceed everyone else’s. However, Molly, beside them, was still staring at the candles in confusion; she couldn’t count the number in such a short time.

In the end, it was Bai Song who finished counting first and gave her a reassuring gesture. Molly suddenly relaxed, crying and laughing at the same time, her eyes seemingly filled with endless vitality as she looked at Yu Feichen and Ludwig.

How lucky she was to have met people willing to help her in both of her opening dungeons, allowing her to feel warmth and strength amidst the despair of life and death, like a candle lit in the middle of the night.

After the voting was over, everyone had also finished their speeches, except for the Empress’s gray-clothed male attendant. This was a situation beyond Yu Feichen’s understanding: the temple had initially provided eleven chairs for them, but the gray-clothed male attendant had no chair and stood behind the Empress. Now that it was time to allocate the execution beds, there was no bed for him either. Even when Ludwig spoke earlier, he said “the seven of us,” excluding the attendant. Did he not count as a person?

But there was no need to dwell on this, as the old man in the cloak had already slowly walked to the cauldron. He truly intended to sacrifice his own brain to contribute his life to the Holy Son’s resurrection.

But… after the monks and nuns died, they all turned into pitch-black monsters. If the old man in the cloak died, would he truly be dead?

He was seen slowly looking around.

All around—the contrast between black and white was strong, and the boundary between light and dark was clear. Beyond the cylindrical surface where light and dark transitioned, shadows condensed into pitch-black tentacles, their surfaces covered with human limbs and facial features, circling the place like snakes and moving slowly.

“Time—is running out.” The old man in the cloak took off his hood. Gray hair and aged, wrinkled skin were revealed. He was seen raising a sharp axe with an extremely pious posture, murmuring: “Let him drink the resurrection potion, pull out the candlestick, and obtain a new life… before dusk arrives.”

Then, he waved his withered right hand, and the sharp short-handled axe drew a dazzling cold light under the sunlight, falling straight into the center of the crown of his head. His body trembled and he collapsed toward the cauldron in front of him, his white brain matter mixed with blood slowly flowing out.

This scene was definitely not pleasant. Yu Feichen slightly looked away at the firewood under the cauldron. After a long time, the sound of the viscous liquid disappeared, and Ludwig’s voice rang out in the field: “Refine it.”

The next steps were completed by two white-robed nuns. They turned the fire to the maximum, gathered everything in the cauldron, and stirred it continuously. A mysterious change truly occurred within—the base of the liquid gradually turned from grayish-white to snow-white, and it was clearly divided into two sides. The left side was scattered with blood-like bright red, and the right side was scattered with spots of pitch-black like black eyeballs.

The bright red came from the heart of the weeping lizard, representing life.

The pitch-black came from the eye of the Goddess of Fate, representing death.

Communicating between them was the third ingredient, the Wisdom of the Wise. Connecting life and death—is human wisdom.

Yu Feichen knew this association was wrong, but he couldn’t help thinking of… a split-pot hotpot. Back on the mothership, his roommates had risked their lives to cook one once, and as expected, they were caught and punished by the commander. He hadn’t participated at all, but he was handed a piece of vegetable from the clear broth by Er, which happened to be seen by the commander, and he was also implicated.

Eventually, the magic potion in the cauldron turned into a non-flowing semi-liquid and was poured into a snow-white bone china bowl by a nun. After pouring, the nun looked at them.

Ludwig signaled Yu Feichen to take it. The nun understood and handed the bone china bowl to Yu Feichen.

The sun moved westward, the pillar of light slowly tilted, and the boundary between black and white moved eastward. Darkness swallowed the execution beds on the west side, and a cold wind blew from the deepest part of the darkness. Twilight was approaching.

A strange change occurred in the old man in the cloak.

Darkness grew from the soles of his feet, coiling upward like a snake. He was originally lying down, but his feet bent like snakes and he stood on the ground. Next were his calves, thighs, waist… and finally his head. Eventually, the flowing black shadow pushed up the hood of his cloak, and he stood up as a living being.

After standing up, the old man in the cloak stood quietly by the Holy Son’s bed.

“Hurry up and feed him,” the Empress said. “After feeding, our task will be complete.”

Yu Feichen took a few steps forward, holding the bowl, and stood by the Holy Son’s bed.

“The task of collecting materials has been completed, but the task of investigating the truth behind the Holy Son’s murder has not yet been completed,” he said calmly.

“Don’t think about these messy things,” the Empress said. “Look at these NPCs around you; after they die, their bodies are all taken over and they turn into shadow monsters! It’s just that there’s still sunlight now, and they can’t move at will. Once time passes, they will all come to life!”

She took a few steps forward, intending to snatch the bone china bowl from Yu Feichen’s hand: “If you won’t do it, let me.”

But how could Yu Feichen let her get it? After a few rounds, the Empress became anxious: “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I know.” Yu Feichen looked directly at the Empress, his words polite and refined—this was something he had learned from Ludwig. He found that the more elegant a person’s speech, the more they could provoke others.

“You investigated the truth, wanting to deconstruct the dungeon alone, but I also want to deconstruct it.”

The Empress sneered: “Is deconstruction important, or is staying alive important?”

Yu Feichen shifted the bone china bowl’s position, implying that as long as she didn’t speak, he wouldn’t feed the Holy Son the medicine, and then he asked the same question back: “Is deconstruction important, or is staying alive important?”

The Empress’s expression fluctuated.

But Yu Feichen was not aggressive and said: “I only ask for one clue—what was that word you got in the Holy Son’s temple?”

The Empress sneered: “The truth of this dungeon is very simple; anyone with eyes can guess the answer. All the difficulty lies in finding the items. If you don’t feed him, then let’s all die together.”

Yu Feichen said calmly: “If you won’t say it, shall I guess?”

At this moment, Qiu Na spoke up: “You say it’s simple. Then the truth is that the evil god of shadows, in order to completely take over the world, raised the curtain of thick darkness and simultaneously killed the Holy Son, right?”

Yu Feichen didn’t agree, but he didn’t deny it either, saying: “So that word is ‘God’?”

The Empress crossed her arms coldly: “What if it is? This dungeon has the most boring kind of plot. What are you waiting for? After feeding the medicine, everyone goes their separate ways. I won’t hold it against you.”

“God,” “killed,” “me.”

God killed me.

All the clues pointed only to that simplest answer.

Yu Feichen held the bowl to the Holy Son’s bed. At this moment, everyone’s eyes were on him—Ludwig’s, his companions’, and those of the monsters under the cloaks—if they still had eyes.

Icy pressure weighed on his back. The pious murmurs of the nuns, monks, and the old man in the cloak rang in his ears. An invisible force guided him forward to feed the resurrection potion into the Holy Son’s mouth and end all of this horror—

The sky was near dusk. The field was so quiet that only heartbeats could be heard.

In the next second, Yu Feichen decisively smashed the bone china bowl onto the ground.