Chapter 136 — The Girl

"He has come into contact with those 'revelations of the apocalypse,' and even communicated directly with a certain primordial spirit. No one knows what knowledge and power he obtained in the process," Beiyila said flatly, though a strange emotion seemed to flicker in her eyes—a look compounded of wariness and rueful reflection. "So no one knows whether his present conduct stems from some ancient guidance... In any case, his affairs are none of your concern to probe into."

"I understand," Bard nodded, his head finally dipping slightly. "Then what do we do next? Leave him be?"

"Leave him be, that is all—including that eternal stone tablet fragment; set it aside as well," Beiyila said coldly. "The war between Typhon and Ansu is drawing near. We have spent centuries preparing for this day; nothing may be allowed to stir up trouble."

Bard nodded. "I understand."

Beiyila gave a slight nod, then glanced at the writhing flesh on Bard's right shoulder. "Once that arm of yours has grown back, go to Typhon. Rendezvous with the local congregation at the Quicksand Coast and proceed together to the waters of the Storm's Children. The Grand Hierarch has arranged for you to go as envoys of the Fellowship of the End of All Things to aid them."

"The Storm's Children? Those worshippers of the storm god?" Bard frowned. "They seldom seek help from the outside world..."

"They have provoked the sea demons in the eastern waters," Beiyila said indifferently.

Bard's eyes sharpened. He said no more, merely bowing his head slightly to acknowledge the command.

The fierce wind rose again, and withered fallen leaves swirled up in spirals to envelop Beiyila's figure. Her body, from the bottom up, gradually disintegrated into fragments within the whirlwind of leaves and dispersed—but before her upper half dissolved, her gaze fell upon the broken sword at Bard's waist, and her voice, now somewhat distorted, issued from the whirlwind: "Bard Wendell, your attachment to the past will obstruct your path to the truth. If you wish to advance further on the path of the Withering Priest, you had best set down your sword..."

Beiyila's voice vanished together with her figure, leaving behind only the slowly dissipating residue of magical reaction. Bard stood before the drifting fallen leaves, and only after a long while did he give a snort of laughter, turn, and walk slowly deeper into the forest.

The residual magic erased the Fellowship of the End of All Things' mark from the boulder. In the end, no trace at all remained here.

……

New Cecil Territory.

Gao Yang ultimately decided to seal away the eternal stone tablet fragment for the time being and focus his attention on the development of the territory.

The secret of the gods was indeed tantalizing—the truth that "the gods are dead" was likely enough to shake the entire order of the world—yet Gao Yang sobered up all the same: this was not a field he could yet touch or intervene in, and moreover this momentous truth could bring him no benefit whatsoever for the time being.

The gods are dead—this truth was truly shocking, but it could only be shocking and nothing more. What good would knowing it do? In this world, in this era, before one possessed sufficient power, even grasping the laws that govern the cosmos amounted to nothing but the ravings of a madman. He had no one to tell this secret to; indeed, speaking of it would only draw unnecessary attention and hostility. So for the sake of the territory's steady development, he might as well press this matter down to the bottom of his heart for now.

Having put away the stone tablet fragment, Gao Yang took out the runic logic materials he had copied from Jenny Perot, preparing to continue the study and research he had left unfinished.

But he had scarcely gotten into the swing of things when the tent flap was flung open and Sir Byron came striding in, a most peculiar expression on his face.

There was tension in it, and astonishment, but mostly a helpless fluster and awkward embarrassment.

For an old hand like this, the knight was surprisingly expressive.

"What's got you in such a fluster?" Gao Yang looked up at the middle-aged knight. "Did Amber get hit by Rebecca? Or did Rebecca get hit by Hedy?"

"Neither!" Sir Byron's face was all awkwardness and helplessness, and he rubbed his hands together hard. "My lord, I... I'm afraid I can no longer adopt that mute child..."

"Can no longer adopt her?" Gao Yang stopped flipping through the documents and fixed Byron with a steady stare. "That's not something you can say lightly. You're a knight, and I was the witness when you decided to adopt the child."

"But... but that child..." The look on Byron's face could hardly have been more tormented. "She's a girl!"

"Ha... what?"