Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1125 Are You a Pastor?
warmth.

This was a feeling that should not be experienced in the dark forest of the Ash Land, but Carson Borg truly felt as if his soul was caressed by a warm morning light, gradually calming down, and his muscles, which were tense due to high alertness, also relaxed a lot silently. After realizing this, he was startled and bit his tongue hard to wake himself up. The sweet and fishy taste of blood rust between his lips and teeth allowed him to get rid of this influence and re-examine the surrounding environment with a cautious eye.

There is no shortage of evil gods in this world who disguise their sinister fangs with sweet faces - or rather, all gods do this. When a person is overly immersed in the prosperity of appearances, it means that his death is not far away. Therefore, the more beautiful the surrounding environment is, the more frightening the crisis lurking in the dark is.

Carson Borg tried to force himself to ignore the scenes, but he found sadly that he couldn't.

As if he had parted a curtain of mist, he quietly walked into a garden whose beauty was hard to describe in words. His vision, which had been occupied by the deep and strange black forest for a long time, suddenly welcomed a large area of ​​lush greenery. The fresh forest breeze swirled around the unknown trees, bringing a cool and refreshing breath; the black pine trees that exuded a gloomy and dusky feeling from the inside out were isolated outside, replaced by some tree species he couldn't name, all of which were ancient and huge, with luxuriant branches and leaves, and lush greenery; Carson Borg even heard the ethereal and pleasant bird calls coming from the forest, which spread out for a long time. A snow-white bird that looked like an eagle or a falcon landed on a branch, stared at him quietly for a while, then flapped its wings and flew away, dropping a large piece of snow-colored flying feathers.

The church he was looking for stood quietly between the wind and the forest. Large meadows stretched from the front of the church to Carson Borg's feet. He looked down and felt lost by the dazzling green and unfamiliar touch. He remembered that many years ago, when he was away from home, he seemed to have witnessed similar beautiful scenery and was intoxicated by it. But in the end, he chose to return to his hometown and fight against some seemingly invincible enemies for a foolish ideal. From then on, his feet were always only stepping on the barren gray soil soaked in blood, burned by fire, or filled with dead leaves and humus. As for what it felt like to step on the grass, this man had long forgotten it.

Now it's just a matter of revisiting memories.

If only I could stay here forever - this thought suddenly emerged in Carson Borg's mind. He was not even sure whether this was his true feelings or he was tempted by the evil god. Because the yearning for beauty is essentially rooted in everyone's heart. He tried hard to fight against the invaders and protect this land at all costs. Wasn't it because he hoped that one day his hometown would be able to regain its vitality?

However, the "vitality" mentioned here refers to the vitality of a city. When the city of ash hills, Suare, was still known as a paradise for adventurers, explorers and gamblers, it was full of vitality and vigor. As for the Black Forest, it has always been lifeless since its birth. The only tree that can grow on the ash and scorched earth is this kind of "evil wood from the underworld" that seems to be dead while alive. Other tree species cannot tolerate the barren environment here. This is entirely the result of natural selection.

Then, who could tell him what was going on with these nameless trees, shrubs, and even weeds everywhere? They didn't look like products from the Ansus region, or even from the East Continent. It's impossible that someone had gone to great lengths to import a batch of rare species from the continent across the sea, and spent a lot of effort and time to improve them, just to make them adapt to the ashes and scorched earth in the Black Forest, creating such a large paradise, and finally luring him at the right time, right?

Carson Borg carefully used a machete to cut open the trunk of a large tree, watching the milky white gelatinous liquid slowly seep out. After confirming that this was not an illusion, such a ridiculous thought could not help but emerge in his mind. If this is true, this cult, from bottom to top, from ordinary believers to the leader, and even the god they worship and follow, can definitely be said to be a model of mental illness. Even among the many sects in the East Continent with confused thoughts, eccentric behaviors, and weird styles, they can be regarded as the leading ones.

Katzenberg's experience tells him that it's best not to contact these mentally ill believers easily - whether they are a cult or not, they will always do something unexpected at an unexpected time, in an unexpected way, and in an unexpected way.

but--

He looked beyond the church and further away, where there was an open space with a dozen simple wooden houses arranged in a circle. That was the eleventh base of their resistance organization, the Ash Guerrillas. It was supposed to be covered by a lush black forest, but now it was equally drawn into the scope of this beautiful scenery, surrounded by beautiful trees, and the open space was full of meadows and flowers. It was just that the wooden house itself was too simple and crude in style, and it was out of tune with the surrounding scenery.

If the supplies stored in the base were not taken, I don't know how many of his companions would die in pain and despair. The history of the establishment, continuation and struggle of the Ash Guerrillas is itself a history full of pain. In one hopeless battle after another, they have never won. They have been oppressed and driven away again and again, like a dog that has lost its home, and they are in constant fear. As a leader, Carson Borg failed to give hope to those who trusted and followed him, but at least he wanted to fulfill his responsibility as a leader.

After exhaling lightly, the man's expression gradually calmed down. He crouched down slightly, ready to sneak in. He was a transcendent of the Night Path, with the ability to create shadows to hide his existence. If everything went well, he might be able to take away some supplies from the base, mainly food and medicine. Then he would immediately lead the team to leave this strange area, even if he completely abandoned the base, because the Ash Guerrillas could not afford a bigger blow.

But just when he made up his mind but had not yet taken action, the door of the church was suddenly opened from the inside.

Carson Borg's eyes froze for a moment. He instinctively wanted to activate his extraordinary ability and hide in the shadows, but at this moment a calm and gentle voice came from the direction of the church and fell lightly into his ears: "Please rest assured, we have no ill intentions."

This sentence sounds funny, and its credibility is not even as good as those words of praise written in scriptures by gods' followers. No one will let down their guard just because of such an unfounded sentence. If anyone does, it only means that he is not suitable to be a resident of East Continent, or even to live in this world.

But inexplicably, Carson Borg's always tense vigilance seemed to be touched by an invisible force, and it calmed down in an instant. Although he quickly got rid of this strange influence, the pause for a moment still prevented him from sneaking into the shadows and disappearing from the other party's sight as expected. At this time, the person who spoke had walked out of the church and stood on the soft and fragrant meadow, under the tall and towering spire, with a pair of pure amber golden eyes, reflecting the visitor's expression - astonishment, hesitation, and a bit of consideration.

I've seen this person!

This thought suddenly popped up in Carson Borg's mind.

"Sir," the young man with silver hair and golden eyes spoke, interrupting his thoughts, "Although I don't know where you are from or what you are doing, if you are a friendly guest, uninvited, could you please follow me into the church and explain your purpose in detail? Perhaps I can be of some help to you."

He leaned sideways in an inviting gesture.

Carson Borg knew where he had seen this man before. He tightened and loosened his hand on the hilt, and his breath was filled with burning and anxious thoughts. But in the end, he still gently put the scimitar back into the sheath. The hilt hit the iron sheath, making a crisp clanging sound, mixed with the man's relieved voice: "I am happy to do so. But before that, can I ask a question first?"

"Please go ahead." "Whose sanctuary is this?" He raised his head and stared at the spire of the church. He could sense a sense of simplicity, solemnity and heaviness from it. It was definitely not comparable to those rural churches with only two or three crappy pastors stationed there. Generally speaking, only the sanctuary of the true God could reach such a level. Owning a sanctuary-level church was enough to prove that the power and influence of this god were extensive enough. Moreover, only bishop-level believers were qualified to station at the sanctuary of the true God. In other words, was this seemingly young man actually already a bishop-level powerhouse?
Although in Carson Borg's perception, the magic power in this young man's body can only be described as meager, roughly equivalent to a beginner who has just embarked on the path of transcendence. But in such a strange situation, he did not dare to completely trust his perception, and it was more reasonable to infer with logic and reason.

The young man was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his tone had become solemn and serious: "This is the Tianxin Church, the residence of Her Majesty the Goddess on earth, and the place where Her glory will always favor you."

Carson Borg asked cautiously: "May I have the honor to hear the name of this goddess?"

Even in the long religious history of the Eastern Continent, goddesses at the level of true gods are rare, such as the Pale Girl, the Night Mother, the Blood-Red Queen, etc., but their church sanctuaries are either gorgeous but empty, or bloody and ostentatious, which is completely different from the style of the church in front of Carson Borg.

The young man was silent again, and then he slowly replied: "The Lord of Magic, the God of Creation, the Mother of All Mysteries and Kingship - for the time being, you can call Him that."

The Lord of Magic, the God of Creation, the Mother of All Mysteries and Royal Power?
Carson Borg's mind was shaken suddenly. Such a name even surpassed the saint who brought transcendence and civilization to mankind. Even the most arrogant cultists would not dare to let their gods override the saints. Otherwise, they would face a storm-like attack from the Nordon Holy Church countries and there would be no chance of survival. However, it must be mentioned that there is indeed a religion - or organization - in the East Continent today, which believes in a god worshipped with a similar name. But the main composition of that organization should be fairies, elves and aliens, and this young man is undoubtedly a human.

Not to mention that the Ansus region has never been an active area for that organization. They have disappeared from the eyes of the world for a long time. If it weren't for the "Assyrian Holy War" a hundred years ago, almost everyone thought they had disappeared in the long river of history. If such an organization was hidden in the Black Forest, how could there not be even a rumor leaked in the past, so that Carson Borg, a local of Gray Hill, knew nothing about it?

As if he wanted to see through the young man, Carson Borg looked him up and down carefully. The latter didn't care about this rude look at all, just quietly waiting for his answer. Naturally, until the end, Carson Borg couldn't see any clues. Sometimes he thought that his observation was not sharp enough, but sometimes he felt that this young man was so empty that there was nothing for him to see through. Everything about him was superficial and open.

Are there really such honest people in the world?

The leader of the Ash Rangers gave up on this meaningless observation and nodded: "It is my honor to be able to enter the sanctuary of this great god and pay homage to him as a mortal."

"He does not need the respect of mortals, as long as they recognize themselves."

Read the error-free version at 69shuba! 6=9+shu_ba is the first to publish this novel.

"what did you say?"

The words were so soft that the Grayhill Eagle could not hear them. He could only see that the young man's lips moved and he said something in a language he was not familiar with. It was not until then that Carson Borg realized that the other party was not so fluent in the Imperial language, which was also the common language of the Eastern Continent in the usual sense.

"Nothing." The young man shook his head and stepped aside to make way for her. "Please come in, you are a guest from afar."

The slightly opened church door was dark, with flickering candlelight faintly visible, mysterious and deep. Grayhill Eagle took a deep breath and slowly walked towards the church. He suddenly stopped in front of the door, forgetting that there was one most important question he had not asked: "Excuse me--"

He looked at the silver-haired young man cautiously: "What should I call you?"

"Linger."

"…Pastor Ling?"

Not a priest.

It should be said that it once was.

The young man wanted to explain, but then he felt that such an explanation was a bit redundant. In such a situation, if he said that he was not the goddess's priest, it would only arouse suspicion, right? So he acquiesced.

Under the leadership of Pastor Lingge, Carson Borg, the Grayhill Eagle, officially stepped into the holy temple of the Goddess.

This is: Tianxin Church.

Give me some meow