Sandean stood in the corridor connecting to the side hall of the Sky Temple.

He stared absentmindedly at a person-high colorful pottery vase placed in front of the window. The vase depicted scenes of the first-generation saint’s pilgrimage.

The Sun Cup Flower Sea, the statue of King Redlichia, the sacred stairs, and the spirit messengers welcoming him were all portrayed.

Of course, the artist had never personally witnessed these scenes from hundreds of years ago. This sacred imagery was nothing more than imagination.

The Sky Temple itself had completely changed, transformed from its ancient, rugged state to one of exquisite elegance.

Stained glass windows, snow-white curtains, and decorative pottery adorned the temple.

The main doors were made of bronze, and even the original pillars had been gilded and inlaid with silver. Some of the intricate ceremonial instruments were enough to astonish the minor nobles from the countryside.

A group of priests hurriedly walking past, dressed in their ceremonial robes, bowed to Sandean.

“High Priest, sir.”

But after paying their respects, they quickly departed.

They dared not get too close to Sandean.

Thanks to bringing the power of rituals to Yinsai, Sandean had finally become the High Priest of the Sky Temple after a few years.

But his situation was not good. The various priestly families, descended from branches of the royal bloodline, had joined forces to counteract Sandean’s influence. Each of the great temples was working to diminish the Sky Temple’s authority.

The royal bloodline seemed to have disappeared, but the royal family continued in another form.

They felt that someone like Sandean becoming a priest was an insult to the priestly families and noble bloodlines. The young priests from these families disdained entering the Sky Temple, instead flocking to other temples in large numbers.

Although Sandean had become the High Priest of the Sky Temple, he could only control the Sky Temple, and even then, not completely.

As the nominal High Priest of the Sky Temple, he was the head of all priests.

But in reality, as other temples across the land gradually rose to prominence, the Sky Temple slowly lost its original function, becoming more of a symbolic existence.

This was also with the tacit consent of King Henir.

He had also noticed that King Henir was intentionally dividing the power of the priests, and his arrival and the establishment of the nine ritual temples was just the beginning.

However, Sandean didn’t care about these things.

What Sandean cared about was that the power of the priests hadn’t changed much over the years.

The power of rituals was jealously guarded by each temple. Large numbers of high-level priests still couldn’t become Spirit Realm priests; they couldn’t learn the knowledge Sandean had brought back from God’s realm.

To maintain their own interests and power, each temple forbade priests from other temples to learn and use their rituals, treating the power of rituals as their personal property.

They hoarded the power of rituals, allowing only their own people to learn, showing no interest in widespread teaching or exploration of ritual power.

Some temple priests even believed that allowing ordinary people to use miraculous objects was a desecration of priestly power.

Sandean, of course, knew what these people were thinking, but he was still very disappointed.

“Why does it always end up like this!”

A young priest who heard Sandean’s words came out, bowed behind Sandean, and said.

“Because people like you and the saint are extremely rare. Only people like the saint and you can change this world.”

The young priest came from a minor noble family in the city. His family had been a branch of the Hosen family hundreds of years ago, but had lost their power abilities at some unknown time.

He was the only one in his family in two hundred years to suddenly awaken Wisdom Power, become a priest, and enter the Sky Temple.

He was the pride of his family.

He was not alone in this; there were many children of merchants or commoners who would awaken their power at birth.

Since the inheritance of Wisdom Power from King Redlichia, over the years with generations of Trilobite Men reproducing and the royal family branching out, the mythical blood had become more widespread, and people with recessive bloodlines had become more common.

As a result, more and more priests with Wisdom Power were emerging from humble origins.

Most family priests relied on the bestowal of power to inherit their bloodline.

But these priests of humble origins had mostly awakened naturally.

Logically, these naturally awakened priests should have more talent and should be more valued and cultivated.

However, the reality was that these naturally gifted priests faced severe ostracism, experiencing intense suppression and exclusion from the major priestly families.

Sandean shook his head and repeated that old saying.

“It is the saint who changes the world, and God who bestows everything upon the Trilobite Men.”

“I am merely the agent of the saint’s will.”

Sandean turned around, pushed open the corridor door, and walked towards the temple.

“I am the shadow of the saint, the inheritor of their ideals.”

The priest’s eyes sparkled with admiration. He greatly revered Sandean, believing him to be a great priest.

Sandean had brought light and hope to the world. Though of humble origins, he possessed a broad mind and lofty ideals.

The priest followed, saying to Sandean.

“Lord Sandean, I understand your thoughts.”

“You want to fulfill the saint’s ideals. You want more people to become the force that opens up a new era. You want miraculous objects to spread to every corner of the world.”

“You want the civilization of the Trilobite Men to enter a new age.”

Sandean turned back, examining the other carefully.

In his eyes, he could see the other’s sincerity and passion.

Just like…

His former self.

The young priest continued: “In my hometown and many cities, the priests similarly yearn to become Spirit Realm priests, to be part of the change in this world.”

“They can become your followers, inheriting your ideals and those of the saint.”

“And I can recruit them for you.”

Sandean’s eyes gradually lit up, his expression completely changed.

“Really?”

“They can come to the Sky Temple, anyone can.”

“I can teach them all the ritual arrays, I will not withhold any knowledge I possess.”

The young priest knelt on the ground, placing his hand on his chest.

“Lord Sandean.”

“We will forever be grateful for your great generosity. You are the true preacher.”

Sandean had found his companion and follower. The two began to plan their ideals and future.

Sandean suddenly felt that his life was different now.

He had something he wanted to do, and he could vaguely see the direction forward.

The priest left the Sky Temple full of ambition, going to recruit those priests willing to serve Sandean.

However, just as Sandean was eagerly awaiting the priest’s return, tragedy struck.

In the dark hours before dawn, the priest was carried back to the Sky Temple. He was barely alive, his body covered in wounds.

Sandean, wearing a robe embroidered with nine mysterious symbols, hurriedly came to the side chamber of the temple.

The priest had only a breath left, struggling to open his eyes to look at Sandean.

Sandean’s voice was somewhat hoarse: “Who did this?”

The priest smiled weakly: “It was just an accident.”

Sandean didn’t believe it. He could guess who had done it.

Those priestly families who were hostile to him, those temple priests who wouldn’t allow ritual arrays to be passed on to outsiders.

And among them, the most hostile were the Tito family.

But he also knew that even though he knew clearly it was them, there was nothing he could do about it directly.

The person beside him wept, saying: “It was a group of priests who attacked us, they used the power of rituals.”

Blood continued to pour from the young priest’s mouth, and Sandean was powerless to help.

In this era, crude medical skills were utterly useless against such severe injuries.

“Lord Sandean!”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything for your ideals.”

Sandean’s eyes instantly filled with tears. He clutched the priest’s hand tightly.

“You’ve already done more than enough.”

The priest smiled one last time and said: “I am honored to have been your follower.”

Sandean had the doctors do everything they could to save the priest, but he still died in the end.

He had the priest’s body carried away.

His eyes red, he went alone to the highest point of the Sky Temple.

This was a cliff overlooking the entire Sacred Lake, a place of dizzying danger.

But at the same time, standing here, one could feel the sea of clouds and the Sacred Lake beneath one’s feet.

Some even called this place God’s Seat, believing that only God was worthy of appreciating such a view.

There was no one here; even priests couldn’t easily approach this place.

At this moment, Sandean completely erupted. He wildly swung his arms.

“Why.”

“Why, even when I’ve done all this, do you still not accept me?”

“What do you want? That is God’s power, something the saint exchanged his life for.”

“Do you really think it’s your own possession?”

He shouted loudly.

“What right do you have?”

“Are you worthy?”

“You filthy, ugly things.”

Sandean had always strived to be a fair serving priest. He had shared knowledge freely with everyone, his only goal being to fulfill the saint’s ideals.

He had never thought about doing anything for himself; everything he wanted to do was for everyone.

“You people, why are you so ugly.”

“Trilobite Men!”

“You are truly unimaginably ugly, despicably nauseating!”

“Original sin!”

“You are people born with original sin, you are the descendants of those driven out of God’s paradise.”

After venting his anger, Sandean helplessly sat on the ground, covering his face.

He was furious at the ugliness of those people, but at the same time, he was angry at his own incompetence and inaction.

He began to reflect on himself over the years. In these years of controlling the Sky Temple, relying on Saint Stan’s gift, he seemed to have accomplished nothing.

It seemed there were many achievements, it seemed the realm of Yinsai had undergone great changes because of him.

But any ordinary person could have done these things.

Any ordinary person could have perfectly completed this simple task.

“When did you become like this?”

“Ah!”

“Sandean?”

“Is this what the saint’s chosen one is like? Is this the kind of person the saint wanted to see become the inheritor of his ideals and will, to become the High Priest of the Sky Temple?”

He was confused and helpless.

“How am I any different from those mediocre priests and greedy, extravagant nobles?”

Sandean felt he couldn’t go on like this.

The old-school, steady scholar finally showed his anger—

In the illusion of the Sun Cup.

Here was the library left by the great poet, and the sacred dreams recorded by the second-generation saint Stan Tito. This was what Sandean cherished most, even more than “The Final Chapter.”

Sandean once again came to the dream where Stan Tito met the messenger of God.

Whenever he felt lost, whenever he couldn’t find answers, whenever he felt he couldn’t go on.

He would come here.

Even without a direct response, the mere sight of Saint Stan and the messenger of God gave him a sense of direction.

In the ancient palace, Stan Tito’s works hung everywhere.

Still under that piece “The Marionette of Fate,” the craftsman was meticulously carving his work.

He came behind Saint Stan, knelt on the ground, clasped his hands and placed them on his forehead.

“Why?”

“Master!”

“Why did you choose me, choose such an ordinary and mediocre person?”

“If you had chosen anyone else, anyone could have done better than me!”

Sandean asked Stan Tito.

Only he knew what it felt like for someone of slave origin to sit in the position of High Priest of the Sky Temple.

This time, there was a change.

The craftsman quietly carving in the corner of the palace suddenly stopped his work.

A familiar tone appeared in Sandean’s ears, causing him to instantly raise his head and open his eyes to look at Saint Stan’s back.

“Sandean!”

“You were not born to serve any one person or group. You are neither the king’s vassal nor the spokesperson for the nobles.”

“You are the inheritor of the great poet’s and my ideals, destined to change the world.”

The second-generation saint Stan Tito suddenly turned around, smiling at Sandean.

“Have you forgotten?”

“You are the preacher.”

Sandean was stunned for a moment, his mouth agape as he looked at Saint Stan.

“Master?”

However, his vision blurred, and everything returned to normal.

The craftsman was still meticulously carving the stone tablet, as if everything just now had been Sandean’s imagination.

But it gave Sandean infinite courage and strength.