Chapter 1103 — The Divine Council

"Yes. According to the materials we currently possess, guiding the populace in the cultural, ideological, and religious spheres is entirely feasible," Gao Yan nodded. "Specifically, this includes widespread educational outreach, reducing the people's habitual dependence on deities, reinterpreting theological classics, and diminishing the blind faith of the masses..."

Gao Yang explained patiently, and as he spoke, Luo Yan Augustus and Belantia nearby slowly nodded along. They were not unfamiliar with what Gao Yang was describing.

"I have another question," Wen Na Baizhi said, still standing after Gao Yang finished explaining. Her expression grew more serious. "After this series of measures takes effect, after we have weakened the connection between the masses and the gods at every level... how will the gods be affected? Having lost so much faith to sustain them, will they truly not perish?"

Faced with the gray elf leader's challenge, Gao Song's expression grew grave.

He was not surprised by the question. The Auley Tribal Nations had always been a nation that placed great importance on tradition, and they possessed unique religious practices that deeply influenced their society. Among the tribe's towering mountains, many different races worshipped all manner of deities—including several of the continent's major orthodox gods as well as their own mountain and wilderness spirits. The people of this nation held a profound affection for their gods unlike that of people elsewhere, and so faced with the series of "divine authority reform plans" Gao Yang had proposed, this gray elf leader would certainly harbor misgivings.

"They will not perish—this I can guarantee," Gao Yang said, looking into Wen Na Baizhi's eyes with earnest solemnity. "Unless a deity is in its early stage, before thought currents have taken shape and while its spirit-body remains unstable, a normal god—one that has received prolonged worship from believers and has the power to manifest miracles—will not perish after the chain of faith is broken. Once formed, they develop a stable self-cycle; their power is contained and no longer continuously dissipates. Even if the faith connection is severed, they will merely stop growing or undergo a degree of decline—which is far better than descending into madness or mutual annihilation of god and man."

Wen Na Baizhi could not help asking: "Has this also been confirmed?"

Confirmed... what counted as confirmed? Anyway, that big white deer in the backyard had been surfing the web every day lately and was getting more energetic by the day. And according to reports from the past couple of days, there might even be a goddess mooching off the internet in the backyard—that lady's funeral had been half a year ago, and now she fought the God of Nature over the remote control every day. She didn't look like she was about to die...

But such evidence obviously could not be disclosed at present. Though it was all fact, saying it aloud would only rapidly undermine the seriousness of the entire meeting—and even the credibility of all the previous materials. Gao Yang could only turn it over in his mind while maintaining a solemn, dignified expression: "Observational evidence exists, but at this stage it cannot be made public."

Wen Na Baizhi looked at Gao Yang. After a few seconds she let out a soft breath, her expression relaxing as she sat back down in her chair: "I understand. But I hope to obtain more empirical evidence from the shared materials afterward."

Gao Yan nodded, his gaze sweeping the hall: "The significance of the Divine Council is no less than that of the Community League we have just established. It requires the close cooperation of all member nations, the sharing of knowledge and technology, cost investment from every country, and the establishment of a united front equivalent to the 'Joint Alert Circle.' Yet it will be difficult for us to derive immediate economic or political benefits from it as we did from establishing the transcontinental shipping routes—of course, such benefits will eventually emerge, but they are destined not to be the Divine Council's fundamental purpose.

"The greatest benefit it brings us is nothing other than 'survival' itself.

"Making this decision is not easy. Each of us will have ample opportunity to speak next—who approves, who opposes, who still has questions... Speak freely. I hope for only one thing: beneath the solemn banners of every nation, let us hold nothing back."

...

In the gloomy, chaos-shrouded courtyard of the Defiance Fortress, the light and shadow projected by the magic-net terminal interwove with the faint white radiance emanating from the giant deer Amorn, creating in this dark and somber place a light that was not bright yet deeply reassuring.

Milmina, her entire body wreathed in arcane mist, watched the magic-shadow drama displayed on the holographic projection with rapt attention. Only when the music rose and the credits appeared did she murmur softly: "Why did that last mage apprentice have to die... the scriptwriter is truly heartless..."

Beside her, Amorn, who had been resting with eyes closed, paid no attention to the former deity who had just binge-watched four magic-shadow dramas in a row. Only after quite a while did he suddenly open his eyes and remark casually: "What do you suppose they're discussing right now?"

Milmina was briefly caught off guard: "They? Who? Those craftsmen from the last drama?"

"...Take your brain out of the magic-shadow dramas, they're about to rot and grow mold, madam," Amorn said with what seemed like a sigh. "I mean that meeting—aren't you curious what they'll be discussing at the end?"

Milmina turned her head, her eyes brimming with arcane radiance narrowing slightly. After a moment she gave a soft laugh: "You've been gone from the material world for three thousand years, and you still can't let go of the children?"

"Elves can live a very long time. Some of those children may still be alive... but this world has already become something they cannot adapt to, and after this meeting, it will change even more rapidly," Amorn said slowly, his gaze resting on Milmina. "Have you simply let go without a care? Even though most of the world's believers are merely your shallow or nominal followers..."

"I don't care at all. They went and wrote the mage apprentice to death... my little Ravenkess..."

"...Don't blame the playwright. It was adapted from real events. You should read the synopsis before the drama."

"I know. That's why I'm even angrier..."

The courtyard fell silent for a time. After several full seconds of quiet, Amorn's voice broke the stillness: "Actually, I've been meaning to say—have you noticed that your humanity seems to be 'awakening' more and more rapidly lately? You now think almost like a mortal; your joys and sorrows are so distinct. This may be a good thing, but... it's hardly the pace you originally anticipated."

(End of Chapter)