Pillar of Yita

After deciding to take action on the day of the birthday celebration, Fang Hong’s surface-level work came to a halt, and he became quite leisurely. The transcription work of library materials had basically concluded, and for the first time, he took some time to explore the city. Although he had almost visited every crowded place in the city over the past two weeks, the feeling was naturally different with a changed mindset.

Unlike Tansnier’s clear order, with a neat beauty of a desert port, the ancient royal capital of Istania carried more of historical weight.

The platinum-hued Naminia Rock Mountain, since ancient times, guarded this land chosen by the Istania people.

Two rivers converge here, creating an oasis kingdom beyond the sand dunes, and early in the era of ignorance and civilization, the Desert People and the Plains People each stepped onto this land, both gaining acknowledgment from the elves, the masters of the earth after the Xinsas Era.

They jointly participated in the grand war of the previous era and grew stronger after the war. Despite a period of blood and fire forging between them, they eventually reconciled and made peace. But the millennia of desert separation left Istania with a culture distinct from Colin.

Even as an outsider, Fang Hong could clearly perceive this.

He didn’t share these experiences with others over the past two days.

And Prince Aleph, busy with his own affairs, perhaps didn’t notice that he hadn’t visited the Royal Library over these two days.

Bishop Faris seemingly truly let him go as he pleased, as the other side claimed, not interfering in his actions at all. Although occasionally mentioning the past of the Lord Goddess, miracles, and teachings, it was like storytelling to a non-believer with some interest in Marlan rather than involving much religious content.

Those ancient stories, Fang Hong had long heard before. Of course, it was quite different when told by a professional clergy, enriching many details he didn’t know before. But honestly speaking, Fang Hong felt as if he were only listening to a story, a piece of history, with no significant emotional attachment.

He might even have some resistance—

As Faris noted, people change with the passage of time, and the deities born from people’s beliefs as well.

He didn’t stand on historical heights to criticize the primitive lifestyle of predecessors, but Fang Hong certainly wouldn’t consider the bloody massacres in history as true laurels.

He even thought there might have been more than one Goddess Marlan in history, as the deity of slaughter was abandoned after the Giant War, disappearing in the river of history—from then on, gaining the domain of justice and courage from the divine office of war.

Next came the long religious reform, the alternation between new and old, endless struggles. Until the Protestants took power, a new goddess was born from the ashes, and thus from the past God of War transformed into today’s Lady Justice. The Oulin Gods underwent similar transformations more or less after the last divine war, but even deeper changes occurred in Eteliria itself.

The ancient slave kingdom vanished, replaced by a new civilization enlightened by the elves—Colin Ishurian, Osh, and Rotao, the enlightened civilization and the ignorance of the past crossed paths. Now only in few places like Istania, can one still see remnants of the past savagery.

But today’s civilization might be tomorrow’s barbarism; mortals progress through constant succession, Eteliria as such, and Earth likewise. Here, though, there is more indescribable phenomena, the so-called Oulin Gods perhaps being one of them.

The sky was already adorned with heavy twilight, like a fire, purple-red glow penetrating the desert dusk.

Then the sky gradually lightened, as the soft blue transforms into a deep blue, layer by layer fading, tinting the platinum cliffs of Naminia with a silver glow, reflecting the peaceful sand sea—a sea covered with silver sand.

Under the pitch-black and serene sky, the heavens curved, causing stars to descend like diamonds. They seemed to fall among the mortals, becoming even more dazzling brilliance, gathered on the dunes, much like flowing rivers—exactly the city’s blooming lights—it turned into the name Quistack, meaning in Istania ’land of brilliant lights’.

For millennia, like a lighthouse, it spawned the culture of the Desert People.

Fang Hong stood quietly in the courtyard of the Holy Sanctuary, observing the sky’s changing shades until the sky deepened to an unfathomable depth, starry and silver moon rising, the curved vision like an immeasurable ancient well—reminding him of the Goddess of Destiny’s well.

The stars in the well, are these the heroes of history?

He suddenly wondered if recalling the name of another goddess while in Lady Marlan’s domain was considered offensive?

Yet all around was quiet, only the sound of insects chirping; it seemed Lady Justice didn’t mind such a level of offense. Fang Hong lowered his head, but still couldn’t figure out the relationship between himself and Goddess Marlan; instead, the inclusivity shown by Marlan Temple made him feel a bit lost.