I am God LSLCCF

Chapter 193: The Spiritʼs Treasure

As the echoes of their triumphant performance in the capital faded, the Spirit Performance Troupe bustled with activity, preparing for their departure from God-Descended City.

The troupe members gathered in front of the inn, their excited chatter filling the air as they packed their belongings onto the trailers. They couldn’t stop reliving the grandeur of their recent performance.

Skinny Tall Guy, the troupe’s vice leader, turned to the spirit. “Where to next, Troupe Leader?”

Spirit Simila’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she raised her hand. “To more cities, of course. More and more!”

“We’ll traverse every corner of Yinsai, leaving our mark on every city!”

Her words ignited a chorus of cheers from the assembled troupe members.

Giant’s thunderous applause punctuated the air. “Great!”

Little Clever, one hand gripping the carriage cover and the other cupped around his mouth, bellowed, “Long live the Spirit Performance Troupe!”

Skinny Tall Guy’s laughter joined the cacophony. “Let’s make every inch of Yinsai our stage, Troupe Leader!”

The childlike enthusiasm of their leader seemed to breathe new life into the entire troupe.
“Alright!” Simila declared, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she addressed the group with mock seriousness. “We’ve made a pact to visit every city, and no one’s getting out of it!”

Skinny Tall Guy, standing before the Troupe Leader, met Simila’s earnest gaze and nodded solemnly.

“You have our word.”

“It’s a promise.”

“Every city, one performance at a time.”

The procession of trailers, emblazoned with the Spirit Performance Troupe’s name, wound its way through the streets, drawing curious glances and excited whispers.

Children darted after the convoy, their voices rising above the clatter of wheels.

“Look, it’s the Spirit Performance Troupe!”

“Are they really leaving?”

“Will you come back to us?”

Simila leaned out of the carriage window, her masked visage instantly sparking a wave of cheers.

“It’s the spirit sister!” the children cried, pointing in delight.

Simila waved back, her voice carrying over the crowd. “We’ll return before you know it! And when you’re all grown, you can seek out our performances in far-off cities!”

At the city gate, the Sage of Truth Lan stood in the shadowed archway, his eyes fixed on the approaching convoy.

As he watched the jubilant procession, Lan couldn’t help but marvel at the spirit’s magnetic appeal.

With measured steps, Lan approached Simila’s carriage and spoke in a low, respectful tone.

“Respected messenger of God, might I have a moment of your time?”

“I am Lan, of the Temple of Truth.”

Spirit Simila alighted from the carriage, her feet barely touching the ground.

She glided into the archway, her gaze sweeping over Lan. Recognition flickered in her eyes as she identified him as the Trilobite Man who had clashed with the Little Person in the Bottle and the Blood Plague.

She waved her hands emphatically. “Oh, I’m not a messenger of God, nor am I Lady Hila.”

“I’m Simila, just Simila.”

To the Trilobite Men, spirits were revered as God’s messengers, His divine spokespersons.

But for most spirits, reality was far different. They were carefree beings, frolicking in God’s realm, unburdened by the weight of divine mandates.

Lan nodded, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Lady Simila of God’s realm, what brings you to our mortal world and God-Descended City?”

Spirit Simila’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “That’s not for me to say.”

Her cagey response only confirmed Lan’s suspicions that she had descended to the mortal realm with a purpose.

But Lan had already pieced together part of the puzzle.

Spirit Simila’s arrival in the mortal world was unlikely to be by God Yinsai’s direct command.

It could only be the will of Hila, the messenger at God’s right hand and the guardian of God’s realm.

Lan’s own teacher, Sandean, had been the first mortal to set foot in the Spirit Country. From him, Lan had learned of the spirits’ nature – they were like a group of eternal children, innocence personified.

Even this powerful great spirit, whose existence stretched back to the Epic Era, retained that childlike essence.

“Lady Simila,” Lan began, his tone warm and respectful. “I don’t mean to pry into your great mission. I simply have a few questions, in hopes that you might provide some guidance and enlightenment.”

His voice took on a note of urgency. “These questions might well relate to the very existence and future of all Yinsai.”

The spirit’s brow furrowed as she grumbled, “Why are you mortals always so full of questions?”

Lan’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “I assure you, my questions serve a purpose.”

“I’m well aware that your troupe has been touring various cities, championing the Wish Festival far and wide.”

“Regardless of whether you choose to answer my questions, I pledge to help you. I’ll see to it that decrees are issued to establish this festival throughout the land.”

The spirit’s eyes widened with excitement, her body seeming to vibrate with joy. “Truly?”

Lan’s smile deepened, amused by the spirit’s transparent delight.

“You have my word, Lady Simila,” he affirmed.

“I’ve already petitioned His Majesty the King, and he has given his assent.”

“Before long, an official decree will be issued to every city, establishing the Wish Festival as an official holiday.”

“It’s a beautiful tradition, one that belongs to both children and parents alike.”

“It deserves to be passed down through the ages.”

Overjoyed, the spirit beamed at Lan.

“Well then! Ask away, and Simila will do her best to guide you!”

Lan had initially planned to inquire about the mysteries of God’s realm, but after a moment’s reflection, he set those thoughts aside.

“Lady Simila,” he began, his tone measured. “What exactly is the Little Person in the Bottle? How did he achieve mythical status?”

The spirit’s knowledge was limited to what she had glimpsed on the Divine Cup, but she shared what she could.

“He is divine artifact number 2, known as the Little Person in the Bottle Anhofus.”

Lan’s eyes sharpened at this revelation. “Number 2?”

Lan possessed the miracle tool Wings of Wind Control, whose sequence number was in constant flux. Suddenly, he understood the reason behind these changes.

The fluctuations weren’t solely due to the creation of new miracle tools, but also because the birth of other artifacts was factored into the count.

However, what intrigued him most was the classification of the Little Person in the Bottle among divine artifacts.

Was this because it wasn’t a natural life form, but an artificial creation?

Or were there other, hidden reasons?

Lan exhaled slowly, his mind racing. “A number 2 existence… No wonder it wields such formidable power.”

The spirit nodded, her brow furrowing in concentration. “It possesses four special abilities.”

She raised her head, eyes distant as she recalled the information.

“First is an unstable mythical form and incomplete immortality, derived from its mastery of the Wisdom Ability.”

“Second is the Light of Original Sin, capable of transforming people into spectral states and plundering their Wisdom Ability bloodline.”

“Third is the Door of Truth, which can store knowledge as a form of power.”

“Lastly, there’s Equivalent Exchange, allowing it to form contracts with all mortals through the power of the spirit realm.”

The spirit’s voice trailed off. “That’s all I can remember.”

Lan bowed deeply, genuine gratitude in his voice. “You’ve given us more than we could have hoped for, Lady Simila.”

Though Lan hadn’t uncovered the key to the Little Person in the Bottle’s ability to plunder mythical blood without consequence, the wealth of information was invaluable.

Combined with their previous findings, a clearer picture of the Little Person in the Bottle’s capabilities began to emerge.

That first ability, in particular, caught Lan’s attention.

The unstable mythical form and incomplete immortality of the Little Person in the Bottle were fascinating concepts, ripe with potential implications.

Lan’s mind raced with possibilities.

Inwardly, he pondered, “So the Little Person in the Bottle’s mythical form is flawed? Is this the reason it can’t – or won’t – leave the Sacred Mountain?”

“Could this be its Achilles’ heel?”

Yet the means to uncover and exploit this potential weakness remained elusive.

Lan pressed on with his second question. “What of Blood Plague Stuen?”

“How did he come by such immense power and near-immortality?”

Lan’s investigations into powers beyond the fourth level had yielded little fruit, though he had long theorized about the nature of perfect mythical forms.

But the Little Person in the Bottle stood alone in its ability to freely seize mythical blood.

Even ancient divine techniques like the Bestowing of Power typically allowed for only a single bestowal.

Historical accounts spoke of rare individuals receiving up to three bestowals, but always at a terrible cost.

The emergence of the Little Person in the Bottle and the calamities it had wrought weighed heavily on all of Yinsai, Lan included.

Unable to obtain power to rival or vanquish the Little Person in the Bottle, Lan considered alternative strategies.

Without hesitation, the name Blood Plague Stuen surfaced in his thoughts.

Here was a being locked in mortal enmity with the Little Person in the Bottle, yet largely indifferent to the plight of mortals.

Stuen’s earlier intervention, shielding Lan from a lethal strike by the Little Person in the Bottle, had left a favorable impression.

Lan contemplated the possibility of forging an alliance with Blood Plague Stuen, uniting against their common foe, the Little Person in the Bottle, Anhofus.

The name Blood Plague Stuen had long been known to Lan, but he had previously dismissed it as belonging to some peculiar third-level Seal Priest.

After all, Blood Plague Stuen’s crusade had primarily targeted followers of the “God of Knowledge” – most of his victims were first or second level practitioners, or ordinary people newly corrupted by malevolent influences.

But Lan’s recent encounter with the Blood Plague had shattered those preconceptions.

Lan’s eyes widened as he realized Blood Plague Stuen’s power wasn’t rooted in the Wisdom Ability, yet he could match the Little Person in the Bottle blow for blow. This revelation catapulted the Temple of Truth and Sage Lan’s assessment of the Blood Plague to dizzying heights.

The spirit’s eyes gleamed as she recalled the top-ranked items on the Divine Cup: “He’s the life artifact number 1, wielding the power of giant beasts and life itself.”

“But when I glimpsed his information, his form was still evolving. Many aspects of his power remained shrouded in mystery.”

The spirit’s brow furrowed as she tapped her chin, her confusion evident.

Seeing her expression, the Sage of Truth leaned forward, anxious not to miss any crucial detail.

“He possesses the power of Blood Transformation, able to convert other creatures’ life force into his own. He remains immortal until his life force is depleted.”

“He can also use blood to create and control blood disciples, but I remember this power had some drawbacks.”

“Oh, right.”

“He can also transform into other life forms. This ability is called… Life Template?”

With each revelation, the spirit’s voice grew more certain, piecing together the fragments of her memory.

Lan nodded, his suspicions confirmed: “Indeed, it’s the power of Shelly, the Mother of Life and Queen of Giant Beasts.”

Lan’s mind raced with the implications: “And he’s the number 1 existence? Doesn’t that mean he’s even more powerful than the Little Person in the Bottle?”

Spirit Simila shook her head, her voice taking on a teacherly tone: “That’s not how the sequence works. The order of artifacts inscribed on the Divine Cup is based on the amount of divine blood they contain.”

“The amount of divine blood doesn’t necessarily determine strength.”

Excitement surged through Lan, a glimmer of hope in countering the Little Person in the Bottle finally within reach.

“But this at least proves that Blood Plague Anhofus has the potential to surpass the Little Person in the Bottle.”

“Is that so?”

The spirit’s large, watery eyes met Lan’s, silently conveying:

“I’m just a spirit, don’t ask me such complex questions.”

Suddenly, Spirit Simila’s face lit up with recognition.

“Lan?”

“Oh!”

“I remember now, you’re the student Sandean often mentioned?”

Lan’s eyebrows rose: “Hm?”

Their conversation meandered, eventually revealing that Lan’s teacher, Sandean, had found a new purpose after his passing as the librarian of the great Spirit Library.

A wistful smile crossed Lan’s face: “It seems my teacher found a fitting end after all.”

The spirit puffed out her chest, a mischievous glint in her eye: “By that reckoning, I suppose I’m your elder.”

Lan regarded the childlike spirit with amusement: “Of course, Lady Simila is my elder. If you have time in the future, you’re welcome to visit the Island of Mist.”

“It’s a beautiful place with many wonders to behold.”

Satisfied that Lan had finished his questions, the spirit turned and glided back to her carriage.

The convoy lurched into motion, the sound of wheels on cobblestone echoing as they passed through the city gate and into the open countryside.

The spirit leaned out of the open carriage door, her hand waving gracefully.

“Goodbye, Lan,” she called, her voice carrying on the breeze.

Lan bowed deeply: “Farewell, Lady Simila.”

As the convoy faded into the distance, the spirit’s voice suddenly rang out once more: “Oh right! The Wish Festival!”

Lan, understanding her meaning, made a reassuring gesture. The festival would not be forgotten.

———————-

The royal decree merely introduced the name of the Wish Festival to the common people in various cities.

Many cities in the Yinsai Kingdom were still puzzled by this unfamiliar holiday and name, as they had never had such a custom before.

“Wish Festival?” some people looked at the notice, bewildered.

“Never heard of it before!” others discussed among themselves.

“How absurd,” a workshop owner grumbled, displeased at the mandatory day off.

But the Spirit Performance Troupe’s journey continued.

It was they who truly embedded the customs of the Wish Festival and the stories of wish-granting spirits into the hearts of people in every city.

She brought the Wish Festival and the blessings of spirits to every city, to one child after another.

Stan City: “We are the Spirit Performance Troupe, Yinsai’s premier performance group.”

Anho City: “I’m a wish-granting spirit. Although it’s not the Wish Festival today, I can still grant one of your wishes.”

Seller City: “We heard this is where the Wish Festival originated, so our Spirit Performance Troupe has come here today.”

During her travels and adventures, the spirit began to lose track of time.

Simila became completely immersed in the joyful days with her companions.

She was no longer just fulfilling Lady Hila’s mission, but simply traveling with her friends for the sake of it.

She wanted this journey to continue indefinitely.

To extend these happy times forever, never to end.

But Spirit Simila didn’t notice that while she remained unchanged after all these years, the people around her were gradually moving from youth to middle age.

And the middle-aged were slowly beginning to age.

She tirelessly passed through city after city, but the members of the Spirit Performance Troupe were gradually becoming weary in spirit from the long, endless journey.

A decade and a half of time, which for Simila felt like a brief outing or a deep sleep in the Sun Cup Flower Sea, was entirely different for the Trilobite Men.

One day, they arrived at Sun City, the second-largest city in the south after Volcano City, where they had once planned a grand performance but left due to a royal decree.

Here, the entire Spirit Performance Troupe received an unprecedented welcome, with people coming to greet them before they even entered the city.

They gave another spectacular performance, with people from surrounding cities coming specifically to see the Spirit Performance Troupe perform.

The streets were empty as countless people cheered.

After the performance, backstage, the spirit was still full of energy as always.

She laughed and danced, sharing her joy with her companions.

“Our new show was a huge hit… Next time…”

Spirit Simila became animated when talking about her performances and the children.

She seemed to never know sorrow, let alone fatigue.

Backstage, the members of the Spirit Performance Troupe sat on boxes and stools, smiling as they watched Spirit Simila.

Their leader was like this, bringing happiness to children and joy to them as well.

But even the happiest journey must come to an end, and there’s always a day for goodbyes.

The spirit chattered on alone, but suddenly felt that something was amiss.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why have you all gone quiet? It’s not like before.”

Little Clever stood up and addressed the spirit seriously: “Troupe Leader.”

The spirit turned, looking at Little Clever quizzically.

He rarely spoke to the spirit so formally, usually joking around.

“Little Clever,” she said softly. “What’s troubling you?”

Little Clever looked somewhat embarrassed as he bowed to Spirit Simila.

“Troupe Leader,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’ve come to say goodbye. My time with the Spirit Performance Troupe has come to an end.”

The spirit was at a loss for words, unable to react for a long moment.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why are you suddenly saying goodbye?”

“Is it… because you’re unhappy about something?”

Little Clever shook his head: “It’s not like that, Troupe Leader.”

“The time I’ve spent with the Spirit Performance Troupe has been the happiest of my life.”

“And you, Troupe Leader, are the best leader I’ve ever met.”

Little Clever looked at the Troupe Leader, his eyes full of maturity.

The spirit suddenly realized that Little Clever was no longer the young boy she had first met, who had just left home to seek his fortune.

He had spent his youth with the Spirit Performance Troupe and had grown into a mature, steady adult.

“But I’m tired now. I don’t want to wander anymore.”

“Although these traveling days have been joyful, I want to experience a different kind of life.”

“I met a girl I like here in Sun City, and… I want to stay here.”

The spirit felt dejected: “Ah?”

“I see…”

Little Clever glanced back at Giant, who was hiding and hesitating, and spoke on his behalf.

“Troupe Leader.”

“Giant also wants to say goodbye to you.”

Spirit Simila became anxious: “What’s wrong with Giant?”

Giant stood up, struggling to form a complete sentence despite his best efforts.

In the end, Little Clever had to finish for him.

“His family back home has written asking him to return. He’s actually older than all of us and isn’t in the best health.”

“He’s no longer suited for life in the performance troupe, but he’s been too embarrassed to say it until now.”

Giant stood up, unable to meet the Troupe Leader’s eyes.

“Troupe Leader,” he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry.”

The spirit had known that humans had a concept of parting, and that after one goodbye, they might never see each other again.

But she never imagined that one day she would have to part with Little Clever and Giant.

Little Clever, Skinny Tall Guy, and Giant were her original traveling companions.

She had always thought she could be their companion forever.

The spirit longed for an endless journey of joy, reminiscent of that first magical summer when they all met.

Spirit Simila looked at Giant and Little Clever, fighting back tears as she spoke.

“It’s alright.”

“There’s no need to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’ll just miss you, and I didn’t expect our parting to come so soon.”

Little Clever’s departure opened the floodgates, and many others in the Spirit Performance Troupe followed suit.

Many had harbored thoughts of leaving for a long time but hadn’t found the courage to speak up.

This performance in Sun City had been a tremendous success, marking the pinnacle of the Spirit Performance Troupe’s fame.

Many seized this opportunity to make their exit.

As some left, others naturally remained.

As the crowd backstage dwindled, Skinny Tall Guy stood and approached the sorrowful spirit.

The spirit looked up at him, her lips pursed.

“Skinny Tall Guy,” she said softly. “Are you here to say goodbye too?”

Skinny Tall Guy shook his head, smiling as he spoke.

“No!”

“I made a promise to you, Troupe Leader. I said I’d accompany you to every city in Yinsai.”

“When I make a promise, I keep it!”

Spirit Simila’s face instantly brightened: “Really?”

Skinny Tall Guy looked at his troupe leader and nodded.

“Of course.”

“You’re my troupe leader for life.”

———————–

The performance in Sun City, that final show with all of Simila’s companions, seemed to mark the zenith of the Spirit Performance Troupe.

From then on, the fame of the Spirit Performance Troupe gradually waned. Though the spirit remained, and her masterful puppet shows continued, she no longer recruited new members. The troupe’s numbers dwindled.

Gradually, they transitioned from a large troupe to a medium-sized one, and finally to a small ensemble.

Yet, true to their promise, the Spirit Performance Troupe visited every corner of Yinsai.

Yinsai was vast; simply traversing it once would consume a lifetime for an ordinary person.

Not to mention performing in city after city, some grand metropolises, others mere towns.

But the Spirit Performance Troupe accomplished it all.

Years slipped away on their journey.

Stone Forest City.

A dilapidated trailer passed through the city gates.

Only two people were aboard: one wearing a spirit mask, the other an elderly, ailing man.

The spirit gazed at the bustling streets, then turned to address the sick man lying in the carriage.

“Hey,” she said gently. “Look, it’s Stone Forest City.”

“Skinny Tall Guy, we’re back again.”

Over the years, Skinny Tall Guy had served as the vice leader of the Spirit Performance Troupe. He had married a dancer from the troupe but had no children.

A few years ago, his wife passed away.

Skinny Tall Guy had grown old, and a month ago, he fell gravely ill.

The spirit decided to take him back to his hometown, but Skinny Tall Guy said,

“I have no family left. There’s no point in returning to my hometown.”

After a moment of contemplation, the spirit’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Then let’s go back to Stone Forest City and take a look!”

Stone Forest City was where they first met, but when they returned, nearly fifty years had passed since their last visit.

Skinny Tall Guy weakly lifted the carriage curtain, peeking outside.

The bustling market, the children running and shouting,

“So much has changed, yet it feels like nothing has changed at all.”

Skinny Tall Guy looked at the spirit driving the carriage ahead: “But you, Troupe Leader, haven’t changed one bit.”

Skinny Tall Guy had never questioned the spirit’s identity, nor had he ever wondered why Simila hadn’t changed at all over the years, her voice remaining as youthful as ever.

After all this time, she still resembled a young girl.

Meanwhile, Skinny Tall Guy had journeyed from youth to middle age, and now to old age.

He was approaching his final rest.

The inevitable destination of all mortals.

The spirit found the place where they had first met; the once-empty lot had been replaced by a house.

The spirit bought the house.

She planned to stay here, accompanying her vice leader through his final days.

Spirit Simila smiled at Skinny Tall Guy and said, “Look at this spot.”

“We can set up a tent here and perform like we used to.”

“I wonder if the children who watched us perform back then are still around, if they still remember us.”

The spirit actually set up a tent outside, hanging up the Spirit Performance Troupe’s sign.

They performed for two hours every day, free of charge.

Many children in the neighborhood came to watch regularly, and many in the city knew of this small performance troupe.

A troupe of just two people.

However, no one in the city believed they were the real Spirit Performance Troupe, assuming they were merely borrowing the once-illustrious name.

On a quiet night, beneath a starlit sky, Skinny Tall Guy stirred from his slumber, his voice barely a whisper as he called out Simila’s name.

Simila rushed in, looking at Skinny Tall Guy lying on the bed.

Suddenly understanding, she leaned against the wall.

She covered her mouth, her voice quivering. “No… Skinny Tall Guy, don’t leave me.”

Skinny Tall Guy smiled and said, “Troupe Leader!”

“Are you crying?”

Simila buried her face in the bedding by Skinny Tall Guy’s window.

“I don’t understand.”

“Our story was so beautiful, our journey and adventures so interesting, our experiences so joyful.”

“But… why am I crying?”

Skinny Tall Guy stroked the spirit’s hair, as if comforting a child.

“Don’t cry.”

“How can a spirit shed tears?”

Simila looked up: “Skinny Tall Guy, you knew I was a spirit?”

Skinny Tall Guy smiled: “We all guessed long ago. Everyone knew, we just didn’t say anything.”

“Troupe Leader, you’re quite amusing.”

“Pretending to be… a spirit pretending to be a spirit.”

“But your acting skills weren’t that good.”

Spirit Simila pouted, saying indignantly,

“I acted very well. I’m the leader of the Spirit Performance Troupe.”

“The leader of Yinsai’s premier performance troupe.”

Skinny Tall Guy looked at the sorrowful Simila, then at the various puppets arranged on the table.

Among them were younger versions of himself, Giant, and Little Clever.

“Troupe Leader.”

“After performing for others all my life, can I have one performance just for me?”

Spirit Simila’s eyes lit up at the mention of a performance, her sorrow momentarily forgotten as she gazed at the puppets.

“Alright.”

“But you must watch it all the way through!”

Spirit Simila picked up the puppets, her fingers deftly manipulating the strings.

“This is a performance just for Skinny Tall Guy.”

“And also…”

Simila’s voice faltered for a moment: “The final performance of our Spirit Performance Troupe.”

An illusion unfolded, and scenes from the past appeared on the table.

Skinny Tall Guy saw their first meeting – himself, Little Clever, Giant, and the Troupe Leader. The Troupe Leader performed an astonishing puppet show at the front, while he, Little Clever, and Giant provided voices from behind the stage.

He saw them poking their heads out from behind the stage curtain after the performance, giving the Troupe Leader a thumbs up.

The illusion showed their exciting adventures on the road, scenes of them singing on the trailer.

The spirit manipulated the puppets while imitating their younger selves’ voices.

Sometimes she spoke in Giant’s deep voice, sometimes in Little Clever’s mischievous tone, sometimes as the good-natured Skinny Tall Guy.

Their numbers grew, and the troupe expanded.

Skinny Tall Guy watched, his gaze growing distant.

His memories returned to his youth, and he even tried to sit up.

“Ah!”

“Meeting the Troupe Leader back then was truly fortunate.”

“I wish…”

“I wish we four could perform that free show again, our… first performance.”

“The four of us… four of us…”

Before he could finish, Skinny Tall Guy closed his eyes.

Skinny Tall Guy’s life dream rose up, floating towards the sky.

Gradually disappearing.

The spirit chased after it, out through the door, watching as Skinny Tall Guy’s life dream entered the gates of the dream realm.

She called out loudly: “Skinny Tall Guy, Giant, Little Clever.”

“Though the dream has ended.”

“You are all my beautiful dream, my most precious memories.”

“I will never forget you, never ever.”

The spirit said this, but tears streamed down her face.

Though she was heartbroken, she also felt a sense of happiness.

It had been a beautiful time.

Though brief, it was unforgettable.

In that moment, the truth crashed over her like a wave: spirits did not truly belong to this world.

No matter how reluctant she was, she had to bid farewell to her friends in the end.

This was the inevitable parting between an immortal spirit and mortals.

A farewell called death, with no chance of reunion.

She suddenly recalled the words Lady Hila had recorded, the myths from the City of Divine Shrines.

Once, she hadn’t understood the meaning of those words, but now she began to grasp them.

At dawn, the spirit laid Skinny Tall Guy to rest.

She took down the Spirit Performance Troupe’s sign, caressing the weathered, eroded letters, cherishing it close to her heart.

Once, the jar given by Lady Hila had been her most precious treasure.

But now, she had acquired something even more valuable.

Hugging the Spirit Performance Troupe’s sign, she flew towards the sky, higher and higher, further and further from the mortal realm.

In the sky, she looked back at Stone Forest City.

She said,

“Goodbye.”

“My journey and adventures.”

“And… my friends.”

She entered a gate of light and vanished.