Chapter 689: The Ritual Begins

Ke Lai En removed the half‑high silk top hat he wore, placed it against his chest, bowed, and said:

"Good afternoon, Ms. Arianna."

"Good afternoon." Arianna lightly nodded in response, then fell silent.

Ke Lai En awkwardly nodded, unable to explain that he merely wanted to test the ability of an "ancient scholar," so he shifted the topic to the war between Fusake and Lu En:

"Madam, is the battlefield in the Amanda Mountains fierce? Can the Church withstand Fusake's assault?"

Arianna gently inclined her head, and in her usually calm, deep black eyes a rare hint of emotion appeared as she said, "Very fierce. The injury of the Lord of the Storm has boosted Fusake's morale. The God of War Church's Patriarch Laliang, bearing a Level‑0 Sealed Object, crossed the Minsk Mountains into this battlefield. The rest of the cathedral's archbishops and I are fighting hard to resist."

Ke Lai En silently nodded, his mood suddenly growing heavy; after two seconds of quiet, he continued to ask:

"If I were to summon your historical projection while thwarting King George III's ascension ritual, would it interfere with the Amanda Mountains battlefield?"

Arianna shook her head lightly and said, "No. I am a 'Hidden' devotee; a brief disappearance will only make the God of War Church and Fusake's demigods and angels wary, preventing rash action."

As soon as the words finished, streams of information spontaneously surged in the basement, appearing in illusory form, coalescing into a terrifying torrent that quickly reassembled into the figure of Rekton.

He glanced at Arianna and Ke Lai En, nodded to them, and laughed, "Out of curiosity, I tried to wander the historical mist using my historical projection."

"Can you also enter the historical mist?" Ke Lai En asked, full of surprise.

Rekton nodded, chuckling, "Civilization is the accumulation of thousands upon thousands of years of human generations; isn't it normal that I can wield some control over history because of that?"

"Of course, I cannot, like you 'ancient scholars,' run straight into the historical mist; I must rely on some connection."

When he finished speaking, he immediately displayed the locations and entry methods of the nine secret ruins of Alista Tudor that he had obtained from Mr. Men.

"Y—" Ke Lai En opened his mouth, then swallowed the question.

"I found one of the builders of those tombs and obtained this information from him."

Giving a brief explanation, Rekton turned his head toward Ke Lai En and continued:

"Before entering the tombs, remember to summon my historical projection; I can bypass those cumbersome steps and open the doors of the secret tombs directly."

"By the way, the Thief has a class called 'Decryptor Scholar.'"

When he finished, Rekton withdrew the consciousness he had projected; the historical projection's eyes went vacant, its aura dimmed, leaving only a fraction of its power and traits.

"Decryptor Scholar?" Ke Lai En whispered in doubt, then released the maintenance of Rekton's historical projection and looked at Arianna's projection.

Arianna was silent for two seconds, then replied:

"He probably means you should beware of A Meng; he is the Thief closest to 'Error,' also the world's greatest Decryptor Scholar. When the goddess cannot descend, he may detect you through subtle traces, even decode your true name and locate you."

Ke Lai En nodded in astonishment, deciding to abandon the three titles he had already planned, perhaps to devise new ones later, or simply give up—after all, he already has the moniker "Fool."

In the central Suniya Sea, the capital of the Galgas Archipelago in the White Whale Sea region, the "White City" of Nas.

One massive, pure information torrent after another surged from the void, rapidly converging and drilling into a clock tower atop the city.

Inside the gray‑white tower was a modestly sized but fairly well‑decorated room.

In front of the creaking wooden‑frame window sat an elderly man with dark‑gold beard and hair, flawless smooth skin, and no wrinkles—the "Imaginary Dragon" Angerweide, returned from the ancient dragon Ai Ruihuoge!

Rekton looked at this ancient dragon who fled the True Creator, escaped the north‑south continental wars, and fled to the Suniya Sea, and said calmly:

"It seems this city has begun to develop a dragon‑worship custom; aren't you worried it will attract the God of War's attention?"

Angerweide's face was warm, a hint of smile at his mouth, speaking like an ordinary, somewhat nagging elder:

"The spirit world hides countless secrets; although I am no longer an Imaginary Dragon, I can still, through lingering remnants, glimpse things deeply buried."

"The war between Fusake and Lu En has distracted the God of War from these minor sea matters, and when the war ends—" Angerweide paused, his mouth lifting slightly, and continued:

"Do you truly think the Giant King's eldest son can maintain his current advantage and defeat the Goddess of the Night?"

"Even though the Second Era has long passed, I still despise those one‑eyed giants; they are impulsive, reckless, stubborn, and vile."

"Setting aside personal feelings, 'Night' is one of the few deities I can never fully comprehend. Moreover, if the war truly reaches a critical point, why hasn't Night sought aid from the other five righteous gods, or from you, or from the True Creator?"

"This shows that the current situation is entirely within His foresight and has not deviated from His plan."

"Those reckless giants will eventually pay for their arrogance, just as Ormir once did."

"I can tell you and the Giant King have a heavy personal grudge," Rekton remarked casually.

Angerweide did not rebut; instead, as if he had found someone to vent to, he continued, "Though I am reluctant to admit it, I indeed stalemated with that foolish, short‑sighted giant for nearly half an era, until the Ancient Sun God appeared. His shortsightedness caused the fall of the Elf King and the subsequent collapse of all the ancient gods."

Do ancient gods speak so much after losing their madness? You don't seem like a "spectator" at all, or perhaps today's "spectator" is more influenced by Adam? As thoughts drifted, Rekton extended his right hand forward, grasping a phantom sphere of pure information‑formed light.

The light solidified swiftly, becoming a badge encircled by stars, guarding a single eye.

Under Rekton's control, the badge flew onto the wooden windowsill before Angerweide, and said:

"I have a relatively safe channel here that can also obtain an anchor, and it's suitable for a Writer. Are you interested?"

"Suitable for a Writer? You need someone to help you craft stories, right?"

When Rekton expected a refusal, Angerweide picked up the badge, sighed, and said:

"It seems I have no reason to refuse; the True Creator is too dominant, and the Lord of the Storm will, like the former Elf King, be the first to have his authority reclaimed, followed by the Sun and the All‑Knowing."

"As someone who cannot pledge allegiance to Him yet remains within His dominion, I can only find a sufficiently sturdy shelter for myself."

Rekton gave a noncommittal nod and then changed the subject:

"Your actions on the Galgas Archipelago could be larger; the Lord of the Storm's injury has intensified the Fusake–Lu En war, and now no one will intervene here."

As his words ended, Rekton's figure became ethereal, breaking into streams of pure, massive information that surged toward the distance.

Angerweide's pale‑gold eyes narrowed, almost becoming vertical slits, and he murmured in a low tone:

"The actions could be larger. It seems this Knowledge Emperor is not satisfied with the Southern Continent and also seeks to seize the Galgas Archipelago, even the White Whale Sea."

"He is convinced the Giant King's eldest son will lose the struggle against the Goddess of the Night, even fall, and wonders what traps await."

On Saturday morning, the sky over Beckrand was a gray, misty blanket, mirroring the locals' mood.

Today, many pedestrians walked Beckrand's streets—some to collect relief rations, others to attend King George III's speech on the war, conveying belief and mobilizing the populace, which also formed part of the Black Emperor's ceremony.

At the municipal square, as citizen after citizen poured in, the area grew increasingly crowded.

At precisely nine a. m., the radio broadcast erected in the square emitted King George III's voice, transmitting via radio to every corner of Lu En and every citizen's ear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am your emperor, ruler of Lu En, Dongbailang, and the Rossade Islands, George Augustus III."

While George III's speech was underway, relying on the historical projection pulled out by Clair, Rexon embodied the information torrent, rushing quickly to East Chester County, where there is a secret tomb belonging to Elizabeth Tudor.

Verdant green vines dangled out of thin air one after another, Beiernadai's silhouette followed closely, appearing; her gaze calmly fixed on the cliff wall before her, a hint of deep purple flashed in her eyes.

Under the gaze of the 'Eye of Secrets', this cliff wall was already ordinary, showing no abnormality.

'The Hidden Power' whispered a sentence, Beiernadai turned her head to look at the empty space beside her.

(End of chapter)