The capital of Anho had been renamed Anho City, no longer the capital of a kingdom.

Yet it remained one of the most crucial cities in King Henir’s dynasty. The intricate network of underground dark rivers centered here nourished countless cities, towns, and villages of Yinsai’s people.

Moreover, Henir had established the Ice Temple here, demonstrating his high regard for this place.

Sandean stood in the middle of the street, surrounded by bustling crowds.

Merchant caravans passed by in groups, pulling their carts. Nobles imitated priests, wearing elaborate robes. Luxury shops selling gold and silver wares were installing glass windows and oil lamps, drawing large crowds of onlookers.

During the previous beast disaster, nearly half of Anho City had been destroyed, leaving only ruins.

It was hard to imagine that just a few years after Sandean brought the power of rituals, this city had been reborn with new splendor.

And now, it was more prosperous than ever before.

Sandean gazed up at the statue erected at the crossroads, depicting a mortal standing before a terrifying desert worm.

His student Haru asked, “Who is that?”

Sandean’s eyes filled with nostalgia: “The second-generation saint, Stan Tito.”

During the beast disaster in Anho, the second-generation saint Stan Tito had saved many lives. The surviving citizens and merchants had erected this statue to commemorate his heroic deeds.

Sandean had come here to see the places Stan Tito had once visited.

Now that he had seen it, he turned and made his way through the crowd towards the city gates.

Haru caught up with him: “Lord Sandean, aren’t we going to stay here?”

Sandean shook his head: “This place isn’t suitable.”

In the shadow of the prosperous city, a small town lay beyond its walls.

This place was dilapidated, desolate, filled with wanderers.

Those living here were the poorest of the poor, unable even to enter the gates of Anho City.

The entry tax was too expensive for them to afford.

All the prosperity within Anho City had nothing to do with them; there was no trace of ritual power here.

Sandean and Haru passed through, intending to head towards the sea from here.

It had rained earlier that morning, and pairs of hungry eyes watched the two from the muddy streets.

Haru, frightened by those gazes, hid behind Sandean.

Suddenly, a shout rang out: “The priest is giving out food!”

Immediately, the people swarmed like insects towards a corner of the town.

Curious, Sandean followed and saw a young man with several companions distributing a kind of black, hard paste to the poor.

He immediately recognized it as the black paste produced by the Ice Temple. It was what remained after Spirit Realm priests used rituals to filter and freeze large quantities of seawater.

It was made from compressed plankton and tiny sea creatures. The high-and-mighty nobles certainly wouldn’t like this stuff, and no one would think it was edible.

Sandean knew the nature of this substance and that it was safe to eat.

Although it was as hard as stone and very unpalatable, when soaked in water, it was quite filling.

This priest must have brought the black paste from the Ice Temple in the city to distribute as food to these people.

The poor took the food while talking to the young priest, seemingly familiar with him.

“When will you become an official priest of the Ice Temple?”

“Lan! You must become a great figure in the future!”

“That’s right, become the High Priest of the Ice Temple!”

The young man named Lan smiled without speaking.

After everything was over, Sandean approached the youth: “Are you the resident priest of this small town?”

The young man glanced at the two, noting that their demeanor didn’t resemble that of vagrants.

“I am the priest here!”

“May I ask if you need anything?”

Sandean questioned him: “Surely you could serve in a temple in a big city. Even if you can’t enter the Ice Temple in Anho City, you could go to other prosperous places.”

“Why be a resident priest in this small town, among the poor who have no fishing grounds and can’t enter workshops?”

The young priest disliked this man’s impertinence: “I like my hometown. Is that not allowed?”

Sandean: “No matter how humble your origins, when one’s status changes, people change too.”

“The more suddenly one rises, the more they fear others knowing about their inglorious past. Isn’t that so?”

“You should leave this place.”

The young priest: “Perhaps that’s normal, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“I don’t like that, at least not now.”

Sandean nodded. Some priests, once successful, discard their past like worn-out shoes, while others still cherish their former lives.

Some noble, some base.

Sandean had seen much and gradually came to understand.

Regardless of their nature, the increasing number of Spirit Realm priests would change this world.

Whether greedy, noble, or content with mediocrity, they would all become part of the change in this world.

What hindered the progress of civilization were those old priestly families clinging to their outdated ways.

Knowledge doesn’t advance through jealous guarding; truth only becomes clearer as knowledge spreads more widely.

For instance, if people like this young man could all learn systematic divine technique knowledge and possess the advanced knowledge of Spirit Realm priests,

He could easily change the current state of his hometown.

Perhaps this was the true vision the second-generation saint wanted to see.

Sandean used a divine technique to assess the young man’s talent: “You have great potential. With your awakened bloodline concentration, you should have a chance to become a Spirit Realm priest. Didn’t anyone from the Ice Temple take notice of you?”

Lan shrugged: “I wanted to enter the Ice Temple to study, but I don’t have the money.”

He didn’t mention that some things couldn’t be learned even with money.

You also needed to come from a prominent priestly family, even a specific family.

Sandean was well aware of these intricacies, and it was precisely this young priest that solidified his resolve to establish an academy.

“Come with me!”

“I can teach you divine techniques, and I won’t charge you money, nor do you need any noble bloodline.”

The youth looked at Sandean as if he’d seen a ghost: “You?”

Sandean extended his hand, and suddenly the mud on the ground gathered, transforming into a stone in his palm.

This simple transformation left the young man stunned.

“You didn’t draw a ritual array. How can you use miraculous power?”

Sandean shook his head: “This isn’t miraculous power. It can’t create and produce miraculous objects on a large scale.”

“This is the advanced power of Wisdom Power, a level above Spirit Realm priests.”

The young priest looked bewildered: “What would following you accomplish?”

Sandean: “I’m not asking you to leave your hometown to enjoy the life a priest should have.”

“I will teach you how to use power. After you’ve learned, you can bring hope to your hometown, you can change everything here.”

“You can bring food from the Ice Temple, but how long can that last?”

“Your efforts like this won’t change the situation fundamentally.”

The youth looked at the two before him: a strange but incredibly powerful priest, and a naive, somewhat timid child.

Suddenly, he noticed a slave brand on the priest’s collar.

He immediately had an inkling of who stood before him.

Lan’s voice trembled slightly: “Who exactly are you?”

Sandean: “Who am I?”

He smiled, pointing towards Anho City.

“Have you seen that statue inside Anho City?”

“I am his student.”

“If you’re willing, you can also become my student.”

Lan’s expression changed completely. He knelt before Sandean: “I am willing to follow you, Teacher!”