Shadow of the Evil God

"There are many kinds of children of the Temple, the Invisible Assassin being the most well-known. Some tear open wounds and bring pain, while others sacrifice themselves and suffer."

Cesar thought the man was trying to claim the latter, so he held out his hand and beckoned Gouzi over. "So," he pointed at Gouzi, "do you think this guy is your enemy or your compatriot?"

"Even if you steal the mask and skills, you can only deceive ordinary people." This person saw through her identity at a glance.

"So, you really are a monk from the Holy Temple."

"What's the matter with you?"

The monk's attitude was strange, as if Cesar were asking him for advice in the chapel.

"I was just wondering," Cesar said carefully, "since you're a monk from the temple, why did you just hang from the ceiling like this for several months, refusing to say a word, without any resistance, without any expression of your identity?"

"The Knights of the Kingdom of Olidan are a bunch of greedy and ignorant people. There is no point in communicating with them."

"I think the one who brought you here was just stupid."

"Stupidity inherently means doing evil without knowing it. When evildoers speak out loudly, fools will respond. This has been the case throughout history."

"Oh, you mean, when the wicked raise their banner, fools will follow suit, believing they're fighting for justice." Cesar paused. This guy seemed to equate stupidity and ignorance with evil. "So, you think perfect knowledge is perfect faith?" he asked.

"I've never claimed that, but you're right." The Templar nodded slightly, his gaze never leaving Cesar's. "Many sects believe this, not just the Templar branch," he added.

"The beastmen think so too. What do you think is the difference between you and them?"

"Every sect and every group has a different definition of knowledge, and every sect and every group has its own narrative that they take for granted."

"What is the narrative of Beastman?"

"They hunt humans and destroy order in order to liberate the nature of all things, because that is what all living beings are born with, and what all living beings are born with is what they claim is the nature bestowed by the true god. Order was established by later generations, by gods, by royal families, and by philosophers, but it does not include the living beings under the order. This order merged with the Kuna people in the era of the ancestors, completely obliterating their nature. Therefore, the beastmen claim to be born from the will of living beings. They disrupt the dynastic order and gather those who yearn for nature around them. With the appearance of Analik, this gathering has increased."

"You mean to say that humans will also voluntarily gather around them?"

"You seem to be very good at criticizing other people's words," said the monk.

Cesar spread his hands and said, "I'm just accustomed to doubting everything. I don't mean to hurt you because of what you said."

"I hope you are right," the templar said. "Some humans gather around certain tribes voluntarily, accepting their rituals and assimilating. Others do not, for not every beastman tribe is willing to follow the will of their ancestors. Their tribes are countless, and many of those that remain today are merely unholy creatures."

The first born, the ancestor,

Ancestor, any title would do. As the only surviving Firstborn, Ajeh seemed quite significant. "What's the matter with you?" Cesar asked. "I've seen the Templar's invisible assassins as elusive murderers, traveling freely from Noyen in the south to the Empire in the north. How did you get caught by a secular knight?"

The monk shook his head slightly and sighed, "How can the hand holding the knife be nourished?"

"Blood." Gouzi suddenly responded. The monk was stunned when he heard this and looked at the faceless one.

"How did the blood reach the hand holding the knife?" asked the monk.

"Blood vessels." The dog replied.

"What if the blood vessels are closed?" the monk asked again.

"The hand holding the knife will also shrink." Gouzi remained calm.

"What sect are you from?" the Templar posed his final question, looking profoundly bewildered. This man hadn't sensed a path in the Faceless One, yet she answered his question without missing a beat, reciting a passage that sounded like some cryptic scripture. Anyone unaware of the Faceless One's existence would be profoundly confused.

Cesar put his index finger over the mouth of the dog mask. "So," he asked, "are you blood or veins, monk?"

"I offer my body, I silence the drum of my life, I give my silence and my will to the Temple. Those invisible people were created by us ourselves," said the monk.

Cesar had met many monks, but this man's tone of voice was the strangest of any monk he had ever met, not even changing his tune. Compared to him, Brother Levita was indeed too worldly.

"Well," he said, "I will not go into the details of symbolism and metaphor, but rather ask you this question: How long have you lived, Brother?"

"My time has no meaning anymore," said the monk.

"And you feel no pain?"

"I can tell you everything I know, but I need to know who she is." The monk was firm.

Cesar was truly shocked. How could he tell this man who she was? Was he supposed to tell him she was nobody? Despite this, he reached out and removed the invisible assassin's mask, showing the monk her golden-red hair and blood-red eyes. He didn't want to say anything, so he could interpret it however he wanted. He didn't care.

"Is it her..." The monk studied Gouzi's face. "I remember this person came to the library to inquire about ancient historical books. She seems a bit suspicious, but there is no other explanation."

Cesar discovered that those who thought Gouzi was an imperial noble were very good at persuading themselves.

He put the invisible assassin's mask back on. "So?"

"A person who holds the precepts should not go so far. Even if anything could happen during a war, she should return to the temple," the monk said solemnly. "But since she hasn't mastered the path, how could she possibly possess a sharp blade?"

"Where do you think our masks and blades come from?" Cesar asked him.

"I understand. You have become enemies of the Holy Temple."

"That's certainly true."

"Her family elders can mediate this matter," the monk said, his expression serious. "Clefas holds a high position in the temple. If he speaks, the feud will be resolved."

Cesar smiled at him. "She has no past name or past family. She's just mine now. Besides, this is you we're talking about, not her."

The monk paused. "As it should be," he replied, returning to his question. "Some still cherish the pain, but I have forgotten what it was. All feeling is gone, and only this body, in which time has ceased to flow, remains."

"So you did live a long time."

"I have forgotten the years and ages, and remember only the journeys of men through a maze of ancient books. Only when the city was broken and all was burned did I see the light of day again."

Cesar realized that this person was one of the same fugitives that Old Thane had sacrificed, the Imperial nobleman Rhine. "Then why don't you return to the temple?"

"Because every temple has its share of power struggles and sectarian infighting, the Holy Temple is no exception. I did sacrifice myself voluntarily, but there were few such people in the sect. Others gathered around the resistance, and as time passed, their number grew, eventually sparking a struggle. However, there were many sources of blood, but only one hand wielding the knife. In the end, some betrayed me under lucrative promises, while others fled and vowed revenge. Someone like me, who has never seen the light of day, naturally has nowhere to go because I had no choice."

"And you went into exile all the way to the South?"

"I don't know where I'm going," the monk said honestly. "I just wander around aimlessly, then die, then wake up, then wander around aimlessly again, then die, then wake up. By the time I realize I haven't died for a long time, I'm already hanging here."

Chapter 248 First of all, this is my teacher

Cesar thought this man was completely crazy. He just kept walking around aimlessly, dying, then resurrecting, and then continuing to walk around aimlessly. Even if he found a purpose, he would probably still keep doing something, neither eating nor drinking water, starving to death or dying of thirst, and then waiting to be resurrected and continue doing this thing.

Because they were afraid that this guy would die, the torturers had to patiently give him water and food. As a result, the interrogation room, which was accompanied by blood and death, became the place where he lived the longest.

It's really intriguing.

Cesar pondered what use he had for him, but before that, he and Gouzi untied the ropes and lowered the Knights' strange prisoner from the ceiling. He studied the Templar's face and found his attitude difficult to read. He looked as if he had just woken from a nap, and surprisingly, he hadn't slept very well.

"Do you remember who among you got lost along the way?" Cesar asked.

"I can't guarantee the fate of the rest," the monk said calmly, "but several of my fellow travelers were lost along the way. Perhaps they were trapped somewhere after death, caught in an endless cycle of death and resurrection. Lost in their own confusion, they've lost all desire to escape."

"You sound like you're making excuses for yourself," Cesar said.

"No, absolutely not. No matter who it is, this kind of loss is helpless."

"I'm thinking, even if I don't save you, once the zombies capture the fortress and kill all the soldiers and residents, you'll struggle to your feet amidst the ruins, stare blankly at the wreckage for a moment, and then continue walking aimlessly forward, right? Where are you going, exactly? Do you have any direction at all?"

"I thought, maybe looking for a library."

"Libraries aren't just any stone you'll find on the side of the road," Cesar told the monk. "Besides, I don't think Olidan and Dominy would allow you to interfere with the library. Their documents are stored in the capital, centered around the power center. Each storage location is a symbol of power."

The Templar hesitated. "I'm not sure of the southern kingdoms' stance, but I can... offer my knowledge. They were all burned in the Beastmen's flames. Only we, the ancient administrators who rose from the ashes after being burned to death, remember the full text of the books."

So this person was burned to ashes along with the library, and only after the city was completely destroyed and even the destroyers were gone did they crawl out from the ruins and ashes?

Cesar was speechless.

He had assumed they were fellow fugitives, leaving behind their archives in regret and reluctance. It turned out they hadn't even considered escaping, didn't even know what escape meant. This guy was simply habitually dying and waking up, only to find everything burned. After much deliberation, he decided that since he couldn't return to the Temple, he had to go somewhere else. So he kept walking, dying, repeating this cycle, believing he'd eventually find a place to stay.

As for the torture in the Gural Fortress, in his opinion, it was just a strange fact that there was a place willing to provide him with free food and drink.

Cesar took a moment to process the whole story. "Since you claim to possess lost knowledge, Brother," he said thoughtfully, "have you ever considered that you could actually rebuild the destroyed library?"

The Templar shook his head in denial. "Rebuilding the library requires more than just copying the manuscripts. It also requires long-term maintenance. It requires a sufficiently secure location to store and safeguard them. Most importantly, those destroyed documents contain many secrets of the Kasar Empire. Without an appropriate name and sufficient deterrence, it could lead to disaster."

"But you can't take refuge in any of the divided empire's territories," Cesar said. "There are temples everywhere, right?"

"I understand what you mean, stranger. You want to take charge of rebuilding the library, right? But you don't have the authority. I can't understand your purpose or origin, and I don't want to listen to a shirtless Sasoulai."

Cesar couldn't help but frown. Letting the dog eat him was an option, but he didn't want to exploit the Faceless One's abilities that way. Besides, they had no grudge against each other. "Is the inheritance of knowledge less important than the differences between races?" he demanded. "Aren't you afraid that you'll die under the blade of the Sanctuary with all this knowledge? You'll perish utterly, without a doubt."

“The disappearance and reconstruction of knowledge is also a historical cycle. Today’s knowledge is not necessarily inferior to the knowledge that disappeared in the past. If I am to die, I will regard today as my last day of life and say my final prayers for everyone I remember.”

"What about your compatriots who were lost on the journey south?" Cesar asked. "They are still experiencing the cycle of death and resurrection. If you go back the way you came, I might be able to find you all."

He had never encountered such a tough nut to crack. Compared with Legosius, both of them had their own anomalies.

"Others will naturally have their own destinies," the Templar said. "If you can find others, that is your own fate. If the people you find decide to accept this, that is also their own choice and their own fate."

"I understand why the Temple abandoned you after the struggle failed."

“There will always be someone who can take over our responsibilities. Some people will never give up until they achieve their goals, but I

I am just observing and recording. To me, the beginning is unimportant and the end is just ordinary. "

Cesar frowned again. "All I hear in your words is loss," he said. "Do you think the transmission of knowledge is more important? Or is it more important to carry forward your lost sect and your endless confusion?"

"You are adept at seeing the flaws in others' words, sir, but the knowledge lost in the world is so vast that my grasp is but a grain of sand," the templar said. "This war can go only two ways. If it goes the first, then someone will rebuild from the ruins. If it goes the second, then everything will be lost, including you and me. In either case, we are of no consequence."

"You don't care, so you expect me not to care?"

"Indeed."

"I care very much," the princess suddenly pushed open the iron door of the interrogation room and walked into the firelight, "and I hope you care too, Brother Xiluo."

Cesar glanced sideways and saw that Artinya was not only dressed in military uniform but also in her bright red shawl. He wondered how she could withstand the temperature of the interrogation room. When she stood there, the monk's expression suddenly changed.

"What can I do for you, Your Highness?" Shiloh immediately bowed to her.

Cesar found his painstakingly contemplated conversation pointless. The monk, uttering a few words in one ear and out the other, feigned a few responses, but in reality, he paid no attention. When Artinia stood before him, he began to ask how he could serve her. Cesar pressed his hand against his brow, rubbing it vigorously for a long time before suppressing the urge to order the dog to eat him.

"First of all, this is my teacher," said Altinya. At first, she looked serious, but when she turned her head and saw Cesar shirtless and sweating profusely, she was slightly startled. Not only did her eyes widen, but sweat also appeared on her forehead.

Chapter 249: A Carefully Fabricated Historical Story

Like all wise politicians, when the princess turned her head back, her thin lips were already in her usual smile, with a slight curve, as if they had been polished.

Cesar watched as Artinia took over and negotiated with the monks, hoping to use their memories to rebuild the library, or at least to initially establish a small-scale archive within the fortress. As he listened, he gradually realized something: Brother Shiloh wasn't easily influenced by politicians' rhetoric. The rhetoric itself wouldn't change his attitude, but he held an inexplicable awe in him for Artinia herself.

In other words, Brother Shilo had an inexplicable awe for the royal bloodline of the Kasar Empire.

Looking at the War of Succession, each participant must possess a royal descendant to enter the battle. It's even more than just a possession. They must have a royal descendant marry their most cherished eldest son or daughter, giving birth to a child with royal blood, who can then be declared their heir. Only then will they qualify.

If it was just a name, they wouldn't seem to need to put so much effort into it. From this, it seems that what they need is not just the name, but the bloodline itself.

Considering the above facts, Cesar couldn't help but suspect that this group of royal descendants, sharing the same bloodline, actually had a long and distinguished past. No matter how they ruled the Kasar Empire, they would have to be stained with their blood. There were even people like Clefas who wanted to capture the princesses of other families and breed them with their own princes to produce royal descendants with purer bloodlines.

Cesar wanted to use his knowledge of history to trace back events, but the Kasar Empire was a foreign land that had come from across the ocean, unconnected to the historical feuds of the Franks. Despite his extensive knowledge of the Kuna people's past, he couldn't pinpoint any connection to the Kasar Empire. After all, by the time the Kasar Empire's ocean-going fleet sailed across the sea, the remaining Kuna had already intermingled with the Sassulai people on the steppes.

The smell of burning charcoal surrounded Cesar, scorching and stifling, mingled with the stench of burnt blood. Brother Shiloh's chest had been charred black, a bloody mess, but he paid no attention, not even attempting to heal the wound. He simply stood there, questioning Altinya's purpose, patiently skirting her rhetoric, trying to understand her true intentions.

Judging from the monk's words, it seemed that the princess's opinions were more worthy of attention than anyone else's, even if some of them were a little naive.

At first, Brother Xiluo patiently responded to the princess's words with a reverence for something unknowable. The conversation seemed less like an exchange of opinions and more like an attempt to soothe her emotions. Later, as her opinions gradually became clearer, he began to feel as if he were speaking to a human being.

The more Cesar looked, the more strange it seemed. He recalled that the Temple existed not only within the Kasar Empire but also only within the royal bloodline of Kasar. No one, not even Ferriers, could act arbitrarily without regard for the existence of royal descendants. The Temple, relying on a certain deity, existed above the secular world. It was a relatively hidden temple, but it was still a temple. Combined with the temples of Sagaros, Helgast, and Hiel, and their ambiguous, even condescending, attitude towards the secular dynasties, he could only come up with one explanation.

The royal bloodline of the Kasar Empire itself has a hidden meaning beyond the secular world.

From what Artinya had recounted to him, Cesar knew that the Casar Empire had experienced numerous upheavals throughout its history. Other dynasties, even if they didn't completely collapse, would have seen a major shift in the royal bloodline. However, this hadn't happened; it remained stable. Even though the Casar Empire was now fragmented into many territories, with the royal bloodline becoming a plaything of the nobles, the people who would rule it in the future would still be the same bloodline from a thousand years ago.

"Your ideas are indeed more insightful than when you were younger," Brother Xiluo said. "You should know that in the past, many of the ancestors who were worthy of your vision were actually just a facade."

As soon as he finished speaking, the interrogation room fell silent. Cesar glanced at Altinya who remained silent and realized that the monk had made a decision. After he believed that the princess was indeed capable and not simply arrogant, he felt that some unspeakable things became speakable.

Cesar had also listened to Artinia's tales of the history of the Casar Empire, recounting the many emperors who had managed to turn the tide at a young age. Often, a single misstep by the newly ascended emperor could have sent the Casar Empire crumbling, as it had now, into irreversible turmoil. While many emperors gradually degenerated after their achievements, losing their former valor and becoming willful and tyrannical, their ability to turn the tide at the time was enough to stabilize their empire and secure the hearts and minds of the people.

"Who are you referring to?" Artinya asked hesitantly.

"Many, but I'll start with Gaidech," the monk said. "You are well-versed in history. You should remember Gaidech's early achievements, right?"

"I know he quelled the rebel army approaching the imperial capital without a single bloodshed. He led only a small escort into the enemy camp and remained there for over ten days. When everyone thought he was dead, he suddenly returned and announced the rebels' surrender, declaring there was no need to worry about any more rebellion."

"The leader of the rebels at that time was a disciple of the Holy Temple, Your Highness, and he was the student I brought up." Shiloh said, his tone calm. Cesar

But I was shocked when I heard it.

Artinya's fingers twitched, and she gripped the hilt tightly, only to find some relief. "I've read in history books that he fought on behalf of the oppressed southern people, growing an army of over 50,000 soldiers from a mere thousand peasants. For eleven years, no one could quell the rebellion. Since the beginning of the rebellion, he has commanded the support of hundreds. No matter where he goes, even in the imperial city, everyone knows his name, his direction, and where he will launch his unstoppable attack."

"Indeed," said Hiro, "he was a good student, and his military talent was unquestionable. He appeased the rebels with the emperor's promises, assisted him in re-establishing order, and distributed commissions signed by the emperor himself to the power-hungry rebel generals in the ruins. Many old noble families were wiped out, and they transformed themselves into new noble families. Later, to gain additional credit, they volunteered to go to the south to suppress the remaining rebel forces."

The monk nodded as he spoke. His tone was calm, but his words were unmistakable, reflecting on the past.

Cesar noticed that Artinia was silent, so he placed a hand on her shoulder. "At least what you saw now was not false," he said, then looked at the monk thoughtfully. "Can you tell me about the emperor, Gaideci, and what he did?"

Shiloh nodded. "Gedchi had just taken over, was young and timid. He felt the Imperial City was beyond saving and sought the Grand Master's assistance. So, naturally, Ferrieres brought out the terms she had been planning for a long time and assigned him to negotiate with the rebels." He stroked his singed beard. "Although the new emperor was young and timid, his legs trembled and he almost fell to his knees after hearing the Grand Master's instructions, he was quite good at acting. He looked calm and composed in the rebel camp, which was actually quite realistic. However, I think his mind was completely blank."

Cesar patted the princess's shoulder instead. The monk stared at him intently, not blinking. "It sounds like you understand the entire negotiation process," he said.

"I was watching from the side," Hiro said. "My young disciple gave me a hug, took the scroll, glanced at it, confirmed that the terms were the same as we had agreed upon, and then sat down in the tent to discuss the oath of allegiance with Gaidechi. During this time, our new emperor hadn't said a word—or perhaps he hadn't? I can't remember. If I can't remember, then even if he did say anything, it must have been some insignificant, formal remark."