Pillar of Yita

Fang Hong stood there quietly, not knowing how to respond for a moment. The sound of footsteps behind him grew closer and closer, making him both nervous and uneasy. He could almost imagine being surrounded soon, yet his feet seemed rooted to the spot, refusing to move.

He didn’t know where this persistence came from, but he felt certain, as if there was a sudden burst of inspiration. Somewhere in the nether, a voice seemed to guide him. He couldn’t hear the voice, yet it penetrated every corner, as though it was his own heartfelt thought.

In Eteliria, this experience was still novel to the Invoker, but among the Native, some people deemed as prophets could enter such states of inspiration. Though Fang Hong had never tasted pork, he had at least seen pigs run, and roughly understood that he was receiving a Divine Oracle.

Just like the revelation from the Forest Goddess, Lady Marlan was indeed searching for him.

But what was she searching for him for?

The elderly knight looked at him, and a sudden gleam flashed through his dim eyes.

At that moment, behind them, the knights suddenly cried out in surprise. Fang Hong instinctively turned his head in that direction, only to see Bain’s knights, in shadowy silhouette, ascending the steps of the Holy Sanctuary. They were only a dozen meters away, yet before them, a golden waterfall-like wall of light suddenly descended from the sky—like a sword, it plunged straight toward the steps in front of the sanctuary.

The golden pillar of light in the darkness not only parted the oppressive clouds but also split the raging desert storm, as if it were the eye of the storm. Bright light hung vertically down from the clouds, illuminating nearly half of Bain City.

Most of Bain’s knights were believers of Marlan. Witnessing this scene, they were so shocked they couldn’t control themselves, instinctively dropping to their knees and bowing with hands over their chests, as if being knighted. The actions of a few inspired more to follow, for regardless of belief... Eteliria was indeed a world with True Gods.

Fang Hong even saw many people shedding tears, wailing loudly amidst the storm. As a non-native, he couldn’t understand this devotion, but it didn’t stop a thought from naturally flashing through his mind at that moment:

Marlan, the gods’ descent.

Less than half a month ago, Ameya had descended upon Tansnier, and reports said the Master of Chongshan had revealed himself in the Sanctified Forge Hall a month ago.

And on Baiye, it was rumored travelers witnessed the great Giants walking through the region of Milfang, the sacred creations of Wojin, the Pottery God, unseen for centuries.

The frequent appearances of deities, no one knew whether it was good or bad, history had no such precedent; unless it was before the Numelin Era, as earlier records were mostly lost to the sands of time, leaving the world unaware.

Fang Hong, witnessing this spectacle, felt little ’shock’; there was a world of separation between Invokers and this world, but he did feel a certain sentiment. Inevitably, he turned back, and the elderly knight simply watched the scene quietly. Feeling Fang Hong’s gaze, he glanced at him, saying nothing, moved aside one step, gesturing for him to enter.

Neither spoke, but Fang Hong understood the other’s message. After glancing once more at the knights outside—their spectacle was interesting because it was rare, yet after watching for a while, it was just so. He remembered he wasn’t safe, nodded at the knight without giving thanks, then hurried past and entered the sanctuary.

The elderly knight glanced at the people outside, then looked up at the light overhead, placing a wrinkled hand over his chest to draw a peculiar symbol, crossing diagonally like two swords piercing through each other. Then he opened his eyes again, his gaze reverted to dimness, and ignoring the matters outside, he stepped forward to close the door.

...

The high-arched hall was silent, contrasted by the low howling wind outside—a candle burned distantly, shedding faint light, casting long, intricately patterned shadows across the dusty rows of benches.

Sand continued to fall from the hall’s ceiling, forming thin waterfalls, softly rustling. It wasn’t that this sanctuary was in disrepair, but in this region, such occurrences were common, especially during stormy weather, which was inevitable.

Once the storm ended, cleaning would undoubtedly be a big issue.

But this was Marlan’s sanctuary, surely many believers would willingly come to help, so upon second thought it didn’t seem like much of a problem.

Fang Hong was crossing the rows of benches, observing the spacious hall. Apparently, the whole sanctuary was managed by the elderly knight alone, leading him to conclude such. He stood in the center of the hall, looking around. It seemed truly devoid of staff, devoid of monks, nor were there apprentice attendants, empty and silent.

However, after a while, footsteps softly approached from behind.

In the dim candlelight, the elderly knight turned in from outside the sanctuary wall, wordlessly gazing at him, then opening his mouth with straightforward words:

”You are the Saint of Fenris Isle.”