Chapter 588 — Restlessness

"Our 'Dark Bridge' has been exposed," the lean, tall, sallow-faced Hierarch Heaton rose from his seat. "Gao Yang Cecil has noticed those magic vines growing in the Shadow Realm; the elves will soon be warned."

The cult priests present began to discuss in low voices, but soon a pale figure in a black robe, whose limbs were as thin and gnarled as dry branches, cleared his throat twice: "Ahem—ahem—there is truly no need for excessive concern. After the Great Wall was damaged, the Dark Bridge was already abandoned. We have reestablished contact with the wasteland through the assistance of the Eternal Sleepers. Those magic vines in the Shadow Realm... are now nothing but rotting plants. The loss is simply a loss."

"Our plan has entered its final stage; the awakening of the 'God' will resolve everything. On that premise, the loss of a mere Dark Bridge is acceptable," another female hierarch spoke up. "But we must also be cautious—the exposure of the Dark Bridge may bring variables. That Gao Yang Cecil is a man of extreme vigilance; he will certainly send warnings to every power he can reach."

"Damn it, can we not find some way to deal with that old bones who crawled out of a coffin?" a hierarch with short hair, a hooked nose, deep-set eyes, and an indignant expression could not help muttering. "He is already an enormous uncontrollable factor—and now he has conveniently left his territory, at the edge of the wasteland. It's not as if we have no opportunity to act."

"Even away from his territory, he is a legend," Beyila, who had remained silent all this while, finally broke the silence. She cast a cold glance at the hierarch who had just spoken. "A legend, with multiple high-ranking powerhouses at his side, and a whole army armed to the teeth. Do you mean to assassinate him with that fibrous brainstem of yours? That would only introduce greater variables."

The short-haired hierarch whom Beiyila had drawn out with a taunt spread his hands. "We have to do something."

"Accelerating the awakening of the false god's body and ensuring the deployment of the god-spawn mutagen is precisely what we ought to be doing," Beiyila said coolly. "It was no easy thing for our kin to transmit that data back from the wasteland; we must see to it that such precious knowledge is put to use."

"Now let us turn to the next matter — the passage between the Abyss of Flesh and Blood and the surface."

The meeting did not last long. Cultists have always been more efficient than kings and nobles; all business was soon settled, and before long only a scant few remained in the vast underground hall.

Beiyila stayed behind with the elven twins, and Shidun did not leave either.

"Let us speak of the god-spawn mutagen," Beiyila said once only these few remained, fixing his gaze on Shidun and speaking without haste. "Though we announce to the world that all is well, I have heard... that the mutagen has displayed some unexpected... activity?"

"Only a minor issue," Shidun said with a stiff face. "It must be that in the seven hundred years since humanity left the wasteland environment, some slight genetic drift has occurred, causing them to react too violently to the mutagen. Such a thing is hard to avoid; after all, our kin 'inside the Wall' completed the mutagen under the conditions of the primal wasteland, and its effects beyond the wasteland are bound to differ somewhat."

"The Great Hierarch does not concern himself with causes, so long as the mutagen ultimately takes effect as planned," Beiyila said, then turned his gaze to the elven twins seated not far off. "What is the state of the Ever-Sleeper's psychic projector? When can the next contact with the wasteland be made?"

"The projector may be used at any time, but a connection can only be established once those 'Prowlers' in the wasteland draw near the projection site," the elven twins said in unison. "By our agreement, their next arrival at the site will fall between tomorrow and the day after."

"Very good," Beiyila said with a slight nod, rising to his feet. "The Great Hierarch will be pleased with this."

With the rustling of roots scraping across the ground, this woman who had lived for several centuries departed the hall.

......

Deep in the wasteland, in the corrupted and mutated former homeland of Gondor, the tireless Prowlers continued their seemingly endless trek.

One after another of the twisted, hideous giant "trees" moved among soil and stone, their sinuous, tentacle-like roots licking at the barren, cracked earth, while disordered winds, bearing lethal radioactive dust, screamed through the branches of these giant trees.

One of the giant trees at the head of the column halted, and behind it all the other giant trees, and the giant mutated aberrations that followed in the wake of the "forest," halted as well.

The bark on the trunk of the leading giant tree writhed, and an ancient, uncanny face surfaced among the cracked bark; a dry, strange voice issued from its rustling branches and roots: "The uninvited guests have begun to strengthen the cage."

"They can only delay matters a while," another giant tree spoke up. "Our paradise will in the end spread across the new world; the foolish multitudes of the old world are destined, like their gods, to become dust in time and history. Every struggle they make now merely ensures that the coming doomsday arrives all the more violently."

"Soon, soon..." "Soon..." "Soon..."

Voices rose and fell throughout that writhing, advancing forest, the rustling and squirming sounds enough to curdle the blood; and amid that blood-curdling chorus of assent they stirred their roots once more and resumed their seemingly endless wandering.

"The new world will surely come..."

the creeping forest sang in unison.

"We will take root in the new world.

"We have already found the finest place in the next epoch.

"This place... none of the old world need set their hands upon or pry into..."

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