Wizard: My skills can be upgraded indefinitely.

As the bells of the Cathedral of Holy Light rang, Anson began his shift at the confessional for the day.

He walked through the corridors on both sides, where stained glass windows cut through the setting sun, casting dappled light and shadow.

In the distance came the chanting of young monks' morning prayers, melodious and solemn, echoing through the high dome.

Over the past two months, he has used his status as a God-giver to establish an inconspicuous but effective intelligence network within the church.

The morning class for the refresher course has just ended.

More than thirty young gracious followers filed out of the side hall and gathered in twos and threes in the courtyard to chat.

Anson stood in the shadow of the colonnade, his gaze calmly sweeping over the crowd.

Surrounded by several peers, the blond-haired boy Camus excitedly recounted how he had blocked his instructor's test attack while practicing "Holy Light Shield" the previous day.

He gestured with his fingers in the air, golden light dancing on his fingertips.

"A second-level Divine Grace, proficient in five divine arts, but ranked third from the bottom in theoretical courses."

Anson silently made a mental note of it.

Camus's soul fluctuations were bright yet chaotic, like a burning campfire, full of energy but lacking control.

These naturally gifted players are most likely to stand out in the early stages, but they are also most likely to encounter bottlenecks in the later stages.

The brown-haired girl, Nicole, sat alone on a bench in the corner of the courtyard, with the heavy "Book of Light" spread out on her lap.

She lowered her head, her fingers moving slowly across the pages, her lips moving silently as she recited scriptures.

Sunlight shone on her slightly rough fingers, marks left by years of working in the fields.

"Theoretical courses are the best, but practical application of divine magic is only average."

Anson noticed that when she turned the pages, her fingertips would unconsciously trace the edges of the pages, a habitual action that farmers used when counting ears of wheat, which was ingrained in her very being.

The black-haired youth, Kalai, leaned against an ancient tree, his arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the courtyard warily.

He stood relaxed, with his shoulder and back muscles slightly tense. He was a mercenary, even worse off than Nicole.

"He has extensive practical experience, despises doctrine, but masters offensive divine spells like 'Holy Strike' extremely quickly."

Anson withdrew his gaze, stepped out of the shadows, a gentle smile on his face, and walked towards the crowd.

"Anson!" Camus was the first to spot him, his eyes lighting up.

"Can I borrow your notes from yesterday's divine magic theory class? Instructor Leonard spoke too fast, I didn't understand a thing..."

Anson took out a parchment scroll from his pocket and handed it over, his tone gentle: "I've highlighted the important parts in red; pages three through seven are the assessment scope."

"Thanks!" Camus took the notebook and quickly flipped through a few pages.

"By the way, I heard we're going to clear out the beast tide outside the city next week. Are you going?"

Anson's heart skipped a beat, but a look of confusion appeared on his face: "A beast tide? I didn't receive any notification."

"My father said so." Camus puffed out his chest, his tone carrying the superiority complex typical of aristocratic children.

"The city guards have discovered traces of a herd of beasts in the eastern Black Forest. They may need to send a group of Divine Graces to assist them, and we Divine Graces will definitely be given priority."

Nicole approached unnoticed, her voice weak: "Chapter 7 of the Canon says that protecting the believers is the duty of the clergy."

Seeing her classmates looking at her, Nicole's expression froze: "Our advisor said that we don't have enough practical experience yet..."

"Experience is gained through practice!" Kalai suddenly spoke up from the side.

"When I was in the mercenary group, my hands would tremble the first time I saw blood, but I could cut off a werewolf's head on the third time."

He looked at Anson, his eyes scrutinizing: "And you? Have you ever killed a monster?"

The courtyard was quiet for a moment.

The other young gracious ones all looked over. This question was a bit out of line, but it was something everyone wanted to know.

Anson was silent for a moment, then said softly, "Back at the monastery, I killed a wild boar that wandered into the farmland. Does that count?"

Kale stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly grinned and said, "Not bad, at least you're not just a fool who can only pray."

He patted Anson on the shoulder with a firm pat: "If you really have to go next week, stick close to me."

Anson nodded, a slightly grateful expression on his face.

During this time, he would secretly gather information in different situations.

After morning prayers, he would "accidentally" pass by the deacons' lounge and eavesdrop on their conversations through the door.

"The northern defenses are under strain again. I heard three second-level priests have died..."

"The number of caravans from the Eastern Territory has decreased by 30% this month, and we can't even collect taxes."

"His Excellency the bishop has been in a terrible temper lately; he's already made two scribes cry."

During his lunch break, he would sit by the window in the library, flipping through the "Provincial Geography" while listening to the conversations of other monks.

"My cousin works as a clerk in the Christian Guard, and he said the recruitment standards have recently been lowered..."

"The granary is transferring grain again, this time to the west."

"Do you remember old John from the confessional? His son works in the mine and said he dug up some black, wriggling stones..."

Even in the evening, the confessional room remains the most information-intensive place.

Anson sat behind the wooden partition, his face bearing a compassionate expression, but his ears, like the most sophisticated instruments, captured every useful word.

"Father, my husband has been conscripted to build the city wall and hasn't been home for two months..."

"Father, the price of grain at the market has gone up again; even a black bread costs five copper coins..."

"Father, I dreamt last night that stars were falling from the sky..."

As believers kneel before the idols, they pour out their stories of life's hardships, inadvertently revealing the true face of this world.

Anson memorized these fragments one by one and pieced them together in his mind.

Frequent beast tides, border tensions, rising food prices, lowered conscription standards, and abnormal phenomena in the mines...

All these signs indicate that the province of Erion, and indeed the entire continent of Light, appears to be in a state of normal activity.

There was absolutely no word about the news he was most concerned about, "conquering other worlds," as if it didn't exist at all.

"This level of information is too confidential; I have absolutely no access to it at my level."

The Starry Sea Divine Court and the Wizard Alliance have been locked in a standoff for tens of thousands of years, with minor skirmishes never ceasing.

The timing of the Zerg invasion of the Purple Mist World, and the Divine Court's attempt to spy on the Xuanhuang World, is suspiciously coincidental.

It would be strange if there wasn't a tacit understanding between the two.

"I need higher permissions..." He closed his eyes and sighed.

Late at night, in the dormitory.

Anson sat cross-legged on the stone bed, holding a golden crystal in his palm.

In just two months, the golden specks inside the crystal have grown from the size of a grain of rice to the size of a pigeon egg.

[Faith Power Reserve: 30000 people/day]

The panel's prompts appeared at the edge of the field of view.

This is a standard unit calculated by the panel based on the purity, density, and conversion efficiency of faith power.

This is equivalent to the total amount generated by 30,000 devout believers praying all day.

It sounds like a lot, but spread across the entire province of Ereon, the population exceeds ten million, with devout believers making up at least ten percent.

This loss is like a drop of water in the ocean; like a cola novel—turn the page and it's another world. It won't attract any attention at all.

Anson gripped the crystal tightly, his consciousness sinking into the sea of ​​his mind.

The power of faith within the crystal was drawn out, condensing into a fist-sized ball of golden mist above the palm.

The fog was murky and turbid, with tiny colored specks of light floating inside, as if countless prayers were being heard.

Red fear, blue dependence, gray distractions, black resentment... and the rare, pure golden devotion.

These emotional impurities will reduce the purity of faith power and affect the efficiency of transformation.

The Divine Court's solution was filtering.

Using sacred stone tablets, church statues, and prayer rituals as filters, impurities are sifted out layer by layer, ultimately yielding a relatively pure power of faith.

Even the most sophisticated filters will experience wear and tear.

What Anson needs to do is collect these losses and use his own methods to...purify them a second time.

"Emotional distillation." He silently uttered this impromptu name.

He raised his right hand, and a wisp of golden light appeared at his fingertips.

After two months of adaptation, this projected body was able to barely mobilize some of the original body's rule power.

Although its power is less than one percent, it is still effective for purifying and refining faith.

The golden-white light split into dozens of fine threads, precisely piercing into the golden mist, weaving, entwining, and peeling away within it.

The red light of fear evaporated with a "hiss" when touched by the fine threads, the blue light of dependence was gently pushed away and gathered at the edge of the fog, and the gray distracting thoughts were crushed and annihilated by the fine threads.

Only a few sparse golden specks remained, the purest and most devout spiritual power, gently drawn together by the fine threads.

The process was slow and arduous, and sweat beaded on Anson's forehead, trickling down his cheeks.

The mental energy consumption far exceeded expectations. Each purification thread required precise control, as the slightest carelessness could damage the golden light spot or cause impurities to be missed.

As time passed, the fog became smaller and the color became purer.

From a murky golden yellow, it gradually turned into a clear pale gold, and finally transformed into a ball of golden liquid.

The liquid light spun slowly in my palm; it contained no impurities, only the most essential soul energy.

A prompt appears on the panel:

[Purification complete - Obtain pure soul power]

[Energy density: 200 times that of the original power of faith]

"The method is still wrong; this is too strenuous."

Ansen sighed for a moment, then without hesitation, opened his mouth and inhaled the liquid light.

hum!

The mental sea instantly boiled, and the runes representing various divine spells—Holy Light Bullet, Holy Light Shield, Touch of Light, Divine Blessing—began to grow and solidify wildly.

The rune structure of the second-level divine spell, which was originally somewhat blurry, has now become clear and distinct.

The threshold of a level three divine spell was pierced like paper under the impact of the immense soul energy.

This was a realm that the original owner, Ansen, had never touched in his eighteen years of arduous cultivation.

After breaking through to the third level of priest, Ansen quietly concealed his aura, which then returned to the peak of the second level.

On the surface, he is still a level two divine mage, but in reality, his combat power can already crush the vast majority of level three priests.

"We can't expose ourselves too quickly." Anson wiped the sweat from his forehead, the golden light in his eyes slowly receding.

A third-level priest is considered mid-level in the church and will come into the sights of certain people.

Level 2 is just right; it has potential and is worth nurturing, but it doesn't arouse suspicion.

[Estimated requirement for reaching Level 4 Priest: 100 standard units]

"Too slow..." Anson muttered to himself.

At the current rate, stealing 0.3% of the church's losses daily, after purification, can yield approximately 1 standard unit.

It will take nearly three months to accumulate 100 units.

Three months is nothing more than a meditation for a Morning Star Wizard, but for this projection that could be exposed at any moment, it is far too long.

He needs a more efficient method, and he needs to reach more core nodes, those faith channels that directly connect bishops, or even cardinals' prayer rooms.

He needs higher privileges to access church archives, participate in high-level meetings, and have access to classified information.

And all of this is predicated on... status.

Anson opened his eyes and his gaze fell on the sacred stone slab in the corner of the wall, its patterns gleaming faintly under the light.

"We have analyzed 70% of the underlying principles of divine magic. The three-layer architecture of authentication protocol, energy retrieval, and security protocol has been basically understood."

"The next step is to create a backdoor for the divine magic system without violating security protocols."

A backdoor that only he can use.

Anson's fingertips moved lightly across the void, and the purifying filaments followed his fingertips, outlining a complex three-dimensional rune in the air.

The rune consists of three parts. The core is the standard divine magic structure of the Divine Court, which is the "shell" used to pass the authentication protocol.

The middle layer is a disguise layer, simulating the fluctuations of normal faith power to deceive the detection of the energy retrieval system.

The innermost layer is the real "backdoor," a miniature faith-stealing array that is ten times more efficient than the current one.

"If we could promote this improved version of divine magic..." Anson's eyes flashed with anticipation.

It doesn't need to be much, just enough for a hundred priests to use, plus the 0.3% he steals from the pipe losses...

"In a month, at most a month, I can save up 100 units."

"At that time, I will break through to the fourth-level priesthood, gain access to higher authority, and investigate the true intentions of the Divine Court's higher-ups..."

He dispersed the runes, closed his eyes again, and let his consciousness sink into the deepest part of his spiritual sea.

There, an even bigger problem awaits a solution.

The power of faith has been purified, divine magic has been improved, and the efficiency of stealing has been increased.

But... how do I convert the power of faith into higher-level energy that I can use in this body?

The core secret of the Divine Court: the specific method for converting faith into divine power, remains a mystery to him.

Anson only knows the general principle:

Believers pray to generate faith power → collect it through mediums such as the Stigmata Tablet → transport it to the core of the temple → undergo a certain "transformation ritual" → and become divine power that can be absorbed by the gods.

But what exactly is the "transformation ritual"? What materials are needed? What runes? What conditions are required?

he does not know.

There were no relevant records in the church's library, at least not in the areas he had access to.

The advanced training course only teaches how to use low-level energy such as divine magic; divine power is a power used only by demigods or even true gods.

Those high priests, bishops, cardinals... they might not even know.

This is the ultimate secret of the entire Divine Court; only people like the Pope and the Son of God could possibly have access to it.

Anson slowly exhaled.

"No rush, let's take it slow and improve and promote the divine magic first..."

Given enough time, he will climb to a high enough position to reveal the true face of the gods.