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Chapter 379. The Priest's Past (Part 379)

At the end of the sea of ​​blood, deep within the silent temple.

With a soft "pop," the candle wick burst open in silence, producing a tiny spark.

The flickering candlelight illuminated Edric's figure.

He wore a single pair of glasses, and his neatly combed dark hair peeked out from under the brim of his black wizard's hat. His long black tuxedo made him look exceptionally tall and slender.

Another young man was sitting across from him at the table.

The man had long, white, curly hair that flowed like moonlight. His features were gentle and without a trace of sharpness, and his face appeared almost ethereal and alluring in the candlelight.

He wore a light pink shirt under a black trench coat, with a white dandelion pinned to his collar. The petals were delicate, as if they might scatter into the air at any moment.

The young man's face was pale and bloodless, except for a faint bluish-black tinge around his eyes, as if he had been exhausted and had not rested.

But Edric knew that those were not marks of fatigue, but the mark of the "inhuman"—a symbol of the demon.

The man in white slowly rose, his posture humble yet not subservient, and spoke in a steady voice:

"Greetings, Your Excellency. I am Feng Shiman, a special envoy from the Execution Division."

Edric then stood up and reached out to shake his hand:
"Hello."

The moment his fingertips touched, he felt the other person's palm was icy cold and lifeless.

The Throne of the God of Death governs the Forbidden Realm of Death and the Temple of Death. Edric has always overseen the daily affairs of the temple, and whenever the Forbidden Realm sends people to the mortal world on missions, they often come here to rest and recuperate.

The special envoy from the Executive Division before him was clearly someone who had come here to stay after completing his mission. Edric then asked:
"Is Commissioner Feng planning to rest at the temple for a few days?"

Feng Shiman first nodded, then gently shook her head:
"I will be inconvenienced for a few days. Also, before I left, the director asked me to inquire about the outcome of the priest's last ritual. Has the divine given any new instructions?"

Edric gave a wry smile and shook his head:

“No. I have held three sacrificial rites recently, and God did not respond even once.”

"It only issued instructions at the last meeting to take over the world of talents as a domain, but it did not say how to implement it or how to do it."

Feng Shiman remained silent for a moment before speaking:

“Recently, I have been using the wind to carry death energy, accelerating its convergence towards the southern border, striving to form the ‘Netherworld Barrier’ as soon as possible. However, there are many external gods who covet this world, and when the two realms are completely merged, I am afraid that the gods will still need to take action. At that time… I hope that the priest can communicate properly with the gods in advance.”

Edric knew what he meant, but recently he had held several ceremonies, each of which was equivalent to making a phone call, yet the boss hadn't answered a single one of them.

He sent a message through the ritual, but the boss completely ignored it and remained indifferent.

He also had his own unspeakable suffering.

But seeing the expectant looks in the eyes of his colleagues from head office, Edric took a deep breath and said:
"I'll try my best..."

Feng Shiman sensed that the priest in front of her seemed guilty, and couldn't help but wonder—could this person be unable to contact the gods?

But then I thought, the priest is, after all, God's closest servant, so it's unlikely that he can't even contact his own boss.

He then composed himself, nodded to Edric, and his tone softened somewhat:

"I'm relieved to hear that. You go ahead with your work, I'll go take a short rest."

Having said that, he bowed slightly, and his figure floated out of the temple as lightly as smoke.

Edric stood there, silently raising his hand to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.

As soon as the person left, his forced composure crumbled instantly, and he paced anxiously, pacing back and forth in circles.

He had performed the basic rituals that the priest used to communicate with the gods three times.

Silence once, silence twice, and still only an echo in the void a third time—not a single response was received.

He couldn't understand it at all. His boss had clearly come to the last meeting, so why was he now out of contact again?

Edric is anxious because his boss has finally assigned him a task, and he hasn't finished it yet. He's worried about what kind of punishment he'll face if he fails.

Although the boss had never punished me before, it was because he had never assigned me any tasks.

If he hadn't been so observant, he would have almost collapsed.

Edric sighed a few times, paused for a long time, and finally went to the study next door.

Three walls here are filled with black books, their covers emblazoned with gold or silver lettering, dark and mysterious—this is his "present" self, the study of the deathly priest.

Only the wall on the east side has a different appearance.

The snow-white covers are neatly arranged, with a delicate surface and a warm, smooth feel.

The book titles were also exceptionally different, carrying an almost blinding light and hope:
The Holy Scripture of Light, The Great Hope Spell, The Pure White Bible...

Edric raised his hand, his fingertips gently tracing the spines of the books.

These three walls represent his present, but this one wall represents his past.

He pulled out the thickest book, "The Holy Scripture of Light," its heavy cover pressing against his palm, and memories surged silently like a tide—

That was a long time ago, so long ago that he wasn't yet the Death Priest, so long ago that he was still a boy.

At that time, he was the eldest son of the most prestigious divine servant family on the Wizarding Continent.

His family hired eight religious mentors for him and placed him under the strictest upbringing and discipline from a young age.

He studied all the proper rituals, scriptures, and prayers, waiting for the day of awakening so that he could rightfully enter the Temple of Light and become the new Pope.

That is a road that countless people look up to.

Supreme power, supreme glory… yet under the watchful eyes of the gods, through day-to-day prayers, and through silent erosion, twisted ram's horns grow from their heads, and an inhuman, eerie light gleams in their eyes, making them the freshest sacrifice offered generation after generation by the families of divine servants—

A sacred object draped in human skin.

And finally, in a grand coronation ceremony, they will dedicate themselves to that indescribable being.

His life, like the teachings in the classics, was already written and predetermined, stroke by stroke.

Until he was eighteen years old.

The dignified and upright eldest son ascended the sacrificial platform amidst a throng of people, his snow-white divine robes billowing like clouds in the wind. He slowly raised his hand and pressed it against the sacrificial bell that symbolized awakening and inheritance.

In the distance, the bells of the Temple of Light rang out sharply—but before that, another bell had already broken the silence.

"clang--"

"clang--"

"clang--"

One sound after another, deep and resonant, like a sob from the depths of the earth, carrying a kind of cold and eternal silence, spreading across the fields, across human voices, across every inch of land illuminated by light.

That's a death knell.

Twelve consecutive cries signified the birth of a new supreme priest—the head of the dark pantheon, symbolizing death and eternity, the God of Death and Silence. The blood-red setting sun abruptly darkened the sky. Flocks of crows swept across the heavens like splashes of ink, their wings slicing through the sunset and casting chaotic, ominous shadows.

A clamor erupted from the platform, a tidal wave of gasps, whispers, and incredulous gasps filling the air. All eyes were fixed on the white-clad figure, still tall and imposing, yet seemingly detached from the world.

He stood quietly on the platform, gazing in the direction where the crows had gone.

Later, Edric stood in the Temple of Death and became a priest of the God of Death.

The boss is a rare find; he has a decent character and hasn't been corrupted by anything.

The only downside is that the boss simply appointed him as a priest but didn't teach him how to communicate with the gods.

The priestly education he received from his family, instilling in him a strong sense of responsibility, made him believe that slacking off and lying around was an absolutely heinous act.

The gods were too busy to teach him, and the books of the dark pantheon only taught killing, so he painstakingly extracted the procedures of the communication ritual from the scriptures of the light pantheon.

The communication rituals he has used so far are all things he has gradually borrowed from the pantheon of light.

Although it never succeeded, that was because the boss didn't like to talk to people; the ritual itself was fine.

He came to this special bookshelf again to find some technical references and study more advanced communication rituals.

Edric picked out two potentially useful reference books and sat down in front of the bookshelf to browse through them.

After an unknown amount of time, calls echoed through the empty hall, lingering among the stone walls:
"Edric, are you there?"

The voice sounded somewhat familiar. He hurriedly closed the book, got up, and walked outside.

Andorra?

Edric stepped out of the study and looked at the man standing in the main hall.

The man wore a brightly colored top hat and a long, color-blocked suit. His hands were in his pockets, and his demeanor exuded a nonchalant attitude.

"Long time no see, Edric."

Andorra deftly removed his hat and pressed it to his chest, then gracefully bowed.

Upon hearing Edric call out that name, he held up a finger and shook it, correcting him:

"Don't always call me by my real name—my name is Elson now, got it?"

Edric adjusted his monocle, looking somewhat helpless.

"You're a con artist, you change your name every few days, how am I supposed to remember them all?"

Andorra put his hat back on and said with a smile:

"This estimate will last a while. I used it to find a new job, and the monthly salary is—"

He deliberately dragged out his words, holding up two fingers:

"Two hundred thousand!"

Upon hearing the number, Edric immediately knew which company it was.

"...Rose Group?"

"Of course!"

Andor proudly blew on the large amethyst ring on his middle finger—even though it wasn't dusty—and said smugly:

"Ultimately, it's because of my outstanding abilities that I was fortunate enough to gain President Jun's appreciation."

A monthly salary of 200,000 is considered high-level compensation at the Rose Group. Although Edric knew Andor was skilled in fraud, he didn't expect him to be valued so highly.

"Did you get in based on your abilities, or did you... 'cheat' your way in?"

Andor shrugged, his tone casual:
“Rely on strength. I would like to trick them into it, but Jun Yunqi has a formidable figure under his command—the ‘Financier.’ She is a talent in the financial strategist branch, and the strategies and methods she uses are very different from those of the strategist who arranges the board.”

"This is the first time I've encountered this situation. There's no way to fool her. Using a fake name is the limit of what I can do."

As he spoke, a hint of regret flashed across his face, but he quickly relaxed.

Con artists hone their skills by dealing with the light, so it's normal for them to suffer a loss when they encounter a top strategist who uses unconventional methods.

In fact, staying at the Rose Group and interacting more with that financier to understand her schemes was also an important reason why Andor was willing to stay for a long time.

"Well, having a proper job is at least more stable."

Edric nodded, then asked:
"By the way, what brings you here today?"

Andorra said with a smile:

"Nothing urgent, just wanted to meet up with my good buddies for a bit. It's been so long since we last saw each other. I've booked a little bar, wanna grab a couple of drinks?"

Edric shook his head in refusal:

"I don't drink, and I don't have time to go out right now."

"Hey--"

Andor reached out and grabbed him, saying hurriedly:

"It's okay if you don't drink alcohol, there's juice too. I know what you're anxious about, but you won't find the answer by just burying your head in research. The tavern's newspaper pile has the latest news from the Church of Light, don't you want to see what their attitude is towards 'world integration'?"

Edric paused, remained silent for a moment, and finally relented:
"Okay then, I'll go change my clothes."

Andorra's face immediately broke into a smile:

"No rush. I should also offer incense to the God of Death and Silence as a way of saying hello."

After saying that, he skillfully took out a slender incense stick from his pocket, placed it neatly in the incense burner on the altar, and bowed three times with his hands clasped together.

In this wizarding continent where gods abound, every inch of land is under the jurisdiction of different deities.

As native Andorrans, they have long had the habit of carrying incense with them—offering a stick of incense as a sign of respect before entering the territory of a deity, which always avoids a lot of unnecessary trouble.

Today he came to see Edric, and he brought with him a better quality incense.

After all, the God of Death and Silence holds a revered position. Although this deity may not care about such formalities, it is never wrong to be thorough in observing the proper etiquette.

In a land teeming with gods, one must be so cautious to survive.

After the ceremonial prayers, Andor stepped aside to wait for Edric, who stood there idly looking at the incense altar of the temple.

A thin layer of dust had accumulated on the table. Apart from some ash from the incense stick he had just offered, there were no other traces of worship—it seemed that usually, no one came to worship this deity.

Because of his good relationship with Edric, he was required to offer incense to Edric when visiting the temple as a sign of respect, so he donated two packets of incense from his home to the god of death and silence.

At this moment, he looked at the incense stick burning flickering in front of the statue, and suddenly thought of something, and sighed softly.

Andor returned to the statue, removed his hat, and this time bowed in a standard religious gesture, his posture respectful and solemn.

"This world is too chaotic... May you return soon and bring peace back to the world."