Chapter 167: Nighttime Gathering

No. 7 Pester Street, Leonard returned to his body.

Leonard quickly reviewed all the events of the day in his mind, organized his thoughts, and intended to communicate with Pales Solarius; he truly wanted to appear as calm and composed as usual, yet couldn't help blurting out:

"Old man."

In his mind, Pales' slightly aged voice chuckled: "Looks like something big happened today."

"How do you know?!" Leonard replied instinctively.

"Your voice is trembling."

"Is it?" Leonard asked in surprise.

"Yes, confirmed now." Pales affirmed.

Realizing he'd been tricked again, Leonard felt annoyed and said: "Old man, what do you know about those Ancient Gods?"

"It depends on what kind of knowledge—you mean the Wolf King Fragara and the other seven Ancient Gods? I can only give you a rough idea; how would an old man like me, living in the Fourth Era of Solomon, know those bone-dust-level figures?" Pales Solarius tossed the question back at Leonard: "If you mean even older, First Era histories with no detailed records, I know even less."

Leonard thought for a moment and said: "Have you heard of the God of Light and the Earth God?"

"Ancient Gods of related Sequences almost always carry 'Light' and 'Earth' in their divine titles," Pales replied without firm confirmation.

Leonard was unsatisfied with this answer and shifted: "At the Fool's meeting today, I met two Ancient Gods—those who awoke from distant eras alongside the Fool."

"One is the God of Light, the other is the Earth God."

"Their status far exceeds ordinary Sequence Angels."

Pales fell silent. Leonard felt pleased—this news must have caught you off guard.

Moments later,

"Did you get involved in this matter?" Pales' voice rang out, the cold tone of the Sequence 1 Angel continuing: "This involves True Gods. Someone of your level stepping in won't even leave behind a speck of ash."

"How do you know this involves True Gods?" Leonard asked, slightly puzzled. He hesitated, then added: "George III is preparing to ascend to godhood. War is coming."

"Last time you said Amon and Charat were in Bexland, and with me here, a balance had formed. Your former colleague's ties to the Night are more complex than I thought, and the Night currently can't interfere with earthly affairs. The Fool awakening two Sequence 1s now, shattering the balance—hmm, unless it involved True Gods, why go through such elaborate trouble?"

"Have you read the newspapers lately?" Pales sneered. "No need to answer—I assume you haven't."

"You should read more newspapers—you'd learn the current situation across nations. Hey, combined with what you just said, it largely matches my guess."

"But George III—hmm, Adam must have planned this for a long time."

"Is it truly unavoidable?" Leonard asked, reluctant.

"This tide of the age—let alone you, even I can only go with the flow. The great tide is inevitable," Pales sighed, warning: "Best find a chance to leave—go as far away as possible."

"The Fool only asked us to prepare to rescue civilians," Leonard said outright, no longer playing coy.

Pales paused noticeably, then his aged voice murmured: "His humanity is richer than I imagined."

Two medium-sized red-maned horses pulled an elegant carriage, their iron hooves striking grayish stone bricks along the main road still damp from light rain, occasionally splashing water as the wheel, taller than a man, rolled forward.

On the carriage bound for Myoga Manor, the butler Walter and the driver sat up front; inside the carriage sat their master, Dorn Tantes, and three guests from the coastal regions of the Fenepot Kingdom engaged in port trade.

Su Lin gazed out through the carriage window; pedestrians walked with umbrellas, prepared for rain to fall again.

"Why did you bring up that ritual?" Su Lin lifted the golden curtain, observing this world blending European medieval and steam-age styles—similar elements, yet fundamentally unlike anything he'd ever seen.

"Zhongli doesn't need any sacrifice ritual," Su Lin closed the curtain; they were nearly at the suburbs now, buildings grew sparse, nothing worth looking at.

"Just to fit this world's setting," Kleine smiled faintly.

As previously agreed, both their divine titles were transmitted via the Source Fortress, effectively making Kleine the intermediary—otherwise, their systems differed; simply uttering Su Lin and Zhongli's true names would suffice.

If someone performed this ritual to offer sacrifice, they'd first offer to the Great Fool. Then who do the coins placed in the four directions belong to? Hehehe…

The God is clearly quite satisfied with your ritual preparations.

Kleine maintained his elegant smile, meeting Su Lin's gaze without flinching.

"Master, Myoga Manor has arrived," Butler Walter opened the door; outside lay a field of green.

Myoga Manor, 6:30 PM

The red moon hung silently in the night, countless stars glittering in the sky.

A rectangular wooden table, seven meters long and one meter wide, stood in the garden, covered by a white tablecloth; hosts and guests sat around it.

A chef and two assistants bustled at an open-air stove nearby; five maids mixed drinks at a small table; Kleine's puppet, Winner Eunyi, disguised as a personal servant, placed cutlery for the guests.

Su Lin held a glass filled with orange-red liquid; after drinking, he smacked his lips: "You usually drink this sweet?"

"Bring him a less-sweet iced tea."

The middle-aged gentleman, disguised as Dorn Tantes by Kleine, waved his hand; instantly, a maid picked up a small pot, added sugar, and controlled the heat until the sugar slightly melted.

"Sweetness effectively eases tension," the middle-aged man smiled warmly.

The fire crackled as wood burned; a waiter removed a suckling pig from a rack, its skin roasted to crispness, the spices releasing their aroma, making his throat bob as he swallowed hard.

He quickly regained composure, placed the roasted suckling pig onto a large white porcelain plate, arranged vegetables and fruits around it, and walked toward the table.

One by one, other servants brought up tonight's dishes.

Roasted suckling pig, pea-braised lamb, tomato-baked beans, grilled steak, crispy-skinned pigeon, Dixi-roasted fish, Sunya-blood-wine-braised meat

"Where's my black bread?" Su Lin asked.

"Guest, here it is," Butler Walter held a woven wooden basket, lifted the cloth to reveal a dark, block-shaped object steaming hot, "Freshly baked black bread."

Frankly, Walter didn't understand why someone of this status would prefer black bread—bitter, hard, utterly unpleasant—but since Master Dorn Tantes had ordered it, he followed without question.

To make the guest more comfortable, he'd arranged ahead of time for a servant to wait at the nearest bakery outside the suburbs, instructing the baker to bake a loaf of black bread on schedule, and forbidding sawdust.

A touch of honey had been added to soften the bitterness—not too much, just enough to dull the sharpness—and the proportion of buckwheat had been slightly adjusted. Delivered on time, the bread was still warm, not yet hardened.

Even if the guest sought nostalgia for hardship, he'd make it slightly more palatable. That's what a butler for Dorn Tantes does.

"Tell everyone to go eat," Kleine told Walter. "Leave us some privacy—we still have business to discuss."

"Understood."

Once all servants had left, Kleine arranged his puppet Eunyi to carve and serve the food, then moved his chair from the head seat to sit beside Zhongli.

Su Lin raised his gaze to the stars above—whether the barrier beyond Earth or the stars themselves, that power was real, vast and mighty.

Even the divine fragments Su Lin currently possesses are vastly inferior to those of the Outer Gods; even if he unleashed his full power, he still couldn't break through the barrier left by the original Creator.

If there were another way to protect the original body from contamination, perhaps we could send a division wearing the Tianhe Battle Robe to slap an Outer God and then run back?

Forget it—don't even entertain such suicidal thoughts; if we lose the Lady and the soldiers too, it won't be fun.

"Compared to the past, both the livestock raised and the cooking methods are nearly identical, even inferior to the era we came from."

"But there are some new spices and vegetables—try them." Kleine picked up his utensils and said to everyone.

Su Lin turned his gaze back, picked up a piece of fatty and lean meat, and put it in his mouth; the rich spices and grease flooded his palate, somewhat like garlic aroma but less heavy.

"Hmm, an unusual flavor," Zhongli commented.

"How much time is left?" Su Lin asked Kleine across the table.

"About ten days," Kleine recalled information he'd learned from books. "The Fexa Empire's airships will bomb Beckland in ten days."

"Will we just destroy all those airships then?" Lu Mingfei said, chewing on his steak; he found the food here quite to his taste.

At this moment, the Puppet Enyuni brought a glass of sweet iced tea with sugar and placed it to Kleine's right hand. Kleine controlled Enyuni to speak: "We need do nothing but handle the aftermath and post-disaster reconstruction."

"You can stay in Beckland, or go elsewhere—places farther from the war, like Baylang or the Rond Islands."

Lu Mingfei widened his eyes, stopped chewing, and asked: "Why? Aren't we going to stop the war?"

"We can't stop it," Su Lin said, rising to pick up the basket of black bread from the corner of the table. "A writer spent two thousand years scripting this. Even true gods cannot stop it—only go along with it."

"Even the King of Angels, if he tried to intervene, would be crushed into dust by the wheels of history."

Su Lin tore off a piece of black bread and shoved it into his mouth; it was indeed bitter and not particularly tasty, but acceptable.

Lu Mingfei paused, blurted out: "If he's that powerful, why bother becoming a god?"

Kleine set down his cup, smiled, and said to Lu Mingfei: "It's fundamentally the accumulated contradictions of human nations over centuries, and the inevitable conflicts among gods. He is merely going with the tide, making adjustments and pushing things forward."

"The underlying reasons are complex—if you truly dig into them, you'd need an expert team to analyze and investigate."

"What a terrifying ability," Zhongli sighed. "Influencing the direction of events subtly, composing a script over thousands of years."

"But tragically, this sacrifice is necessary."

Kleine shook his head with a smile and changed the subject: "Let's not discuss this anymore—at least things are much better than before."

"By the way, what are your plans for the next few days? Tour Beckland, or travel the world?"

Tomorrow, Kleine will contact the Mystical Queen to seek the tomb of Emperor Rosel. To leave Zaratustra unnoticed, Rosel's betrayal is essential.

By the way, was Zaratustra close to Rosel? Kleine remembered Zaratustra loved summoning Rosel's historical projections for battle.

"Give me a map," Lu Mingfei said without opening his mouth; Lao Lu's voice came from within him. "I heard there are pirates on your seas—I'll take him to become a Caribbean Sword Immortal."

"Aren't I staying here to help?" Lu Mingfei asked.

Their voices were nearly identical, as if Lu Mingfei were talking to himself.

"With your level of strength, what help could you possibly offer? Do you even need to help?" Lao Lu sneered. "Go play somewhere else."

"You're showing a bit too little respect for the guy on your left hand."

Lu Mingfei thought about it—he was right. Unless this old man inside him possessed him like Xiao Yan's Yaolao, he was truly just a weakling.

"I'll go out for a stroll on my own," Su Lin said, dividing some of the black bread among the other three. "I'll stay within Beckland, won't go far—call me if anything happens."

"What about Zhongli?" Kleine asked.

"Same," Zhongli said after a moment, turning to Kleine. "I'll be troubling you for a while."

"My pleasure," Kleine smiled slightly. If Zhongli lived with him, aside from higher expenses, there was nothing bad about it.

"You need to plan carefully during this time," Su Lin said, picking up a Dixi pie—meat juice dripping from its edge—"like how to use the Groser Journal."

"I know," Kleine nodded. Actually, reviving the Imaginary Dragon to restrain Adam was also a good option—but there are still over a decade until Doomsday; he has no time to wait for the Imaginary Dragon and Adam to continue their contest.

【At the very least, I must extract something from Adam—like securing payment for Su Lin and Zhongli.】

【Whether it's the Aurora Society or the Ancient Sun God who has walked among mortals for so many years as Adam, he must have plenty of treasures.】

【My own courage has grown larger lately—but it doesn't matter. I'll have to face Adam eventually anyway.】

Kleine looked up at the blood moon overhead, raised his glass, and swept it across everyone: "Gentlemen, to our small gathering tonight—cheers."