Chapter 325 — The Nest of the Congregation of All Things' End

"Shallow believers... seeking to rely on numbers, are they..." the Great Pontiff murmured to himself, and at last shook his head. "Seeking their own death... Should they continue to develop, sooner or later they will be devoured by the Holy Light they themselves worship. All their efforts at this moment are merely weaving a noose for their own necks."

"But if they truly succeed, the God of Holy Light may well become an existence that cannot be contended with..."

"The other sects will not sit idle and await death. The stronger the power of Holy Light, the stronger the resistance it shall face," the Great Pontiff shook his head slightly. "In any case, now is not yet the time for us to intervene."

"Yes."

Several tens of minutes later, Beiyila left the lowest level of the underground palace. Having passed through that deep, dark, terrifying corridor steeped in mad whispers, and having left all the auditory and visual hallucinations behind her, the female Pontiff let out a faint breath.

Looking at the brightly lit corridor of the underground palace before her, she murmured softly to herself: "An 'Outer Wanderer' that even the Ultimate Book cannot give an answer for..."

Before the Cecil residence at Number Four Crown Street, Sacred Frost Perch City, visitors came and went in an endless stream.

Ever since the Cecil family had plunged to the bottom overnight, in the whole century since, this was the second time the residence had become so lively.

The last time had been when Duke Gao Yang Cecil returned to the royal capital.

The multiple recruitment notices Santis had sent out had indeed had an effect. Even though people's misgivings about the Dark Mountains remained, many still came to learn more, hoping to see how things stood—though most who responded to the recruitment could only meet and register with the contacts Santis had left behind at the Artisans' Association and the Scholars' Association. To qualify for coming to Number Four Crown Street, one had to be at least a member of the Mages' Association with a formal Transcendent rank, or else possess a letter of recommendation from some great personage.

Yet even with such a "filter," Number Four Crown Street still received several dozen visiting guests during the day.

It was no wonder so many had answered the call. Half a year ago, when Gao Yang first posted his recruitment notice in the capital, the southern frontier had been nothing but a plan on paper. Beyond the scheme itself, people could see no guarantees and no prospects, so naturally few had responded. But now, more than half a year later, the southern expedition had at least planted its feet firmly on the ground, which was as good as shattering most of the dire rumors about the Dark Mountains. And now Santis, a member of the Mages' Association, bearing the Duke's order and leading a fine and impressive company, was conducting a formal public recruitment drive in the capital. The situation could hardly be the same.

At the very least, this time the scholars, mages, and craftsmen of the capital could see some concrete guarantees.

Those who had already made something of themselves and had no worries about survival might remain unmoved, but among those already down on their luck, those who sought only to make a living, some could not help but be tempted.

Of all who answered the call, the largest number were rune-craftsmen and machinists registering with the Craftsmen's Association, followed by impoverished scholars and clerks signing on with the Scholars' Association. Mages were the fewest, and a good portion of them merely kept a watching brief.

"Witch" Jibril stood in the ground-floor parlor of the mansion, smiling as she received visitors in mage's robes both long and short, quietly observing the subtle shifts in each one's expression.