Xiuborn stood motionless beneath the sun for a long time.

Everything had changed too quickly.

They had devoted their entire existence to worshipping their deity, yet in the end, their God offered no response.

He had not sought out another deity, yet this other God had extended a hand toward him.

Xiuborn’s father had also been a servant of God, their family having always been devout followers of the Life Sovereign.

After Xiuborn’s birth, his father had told him about the nature of the world with absolute conviction.

“Everything in this world was created by the Mother of Life, who descended from the divine realm to the mortal world.”

“From that moment, the endless oceans became filled with fish, shrimp, and all manner of life.”

“She blew the Mother Conch of All Things, and the earth rose from beneath the sea.”

“She waved Her hand, and the wind carried seeds from afar, bringing forth forests and plants, along with animals that roamed the earth.”

“She came to the Mountain of Origin and created the Snake People in part of Her own image.”

“This is our story, and the story of our world.”

Yet a ghost from an unfathomably ancient era had told him their believed Creator was not the true Creator at all, but merely a deity who sat to the left of the Creator’s throne.

They were of the divine firstborn lineage, descendants of the deity named Redlichia.

The Snake People were nothing more than casual creations of the Mother of Life.

Before the Mother of Life had even created this land, all manner of living beings had already existed.

Those who called themselves the divine firstborn had ruled over everything in this world like divine beings, possessing both divine bloodlines and everything bestowed by the Creator.

Xiuborn felt his understanding of the world, everything he had known since childhood as truth, being completely torn apart.

Though he could see this world clearly before him, everything felt unreal, as if the entire reality before him was false.

The sky was an illusion, the ocean was an illusion.

He realized even he himself was an illusion.

Xiuborn reached toward the sky as if trying to touch the sun above.

Yet no matter how he stretched out his hand, he could neither grasp the light that slipped through his fingers nor reach that golden disc.

“Our world.”

“What is it truly like?”

Xiuborn spread his arms wide and called out to the sun and sea.

“Supreme Life Sovereign! For what purpose did You create us?”

“The meaning of our birth, the purpose of our existence.”

“What are these things to You?”

He found no answers, not even an echo returned from the sea.

At last, Xiuborn turned back to face the broken ship.

The great black vessel bore the marks of consuming flames, laden with grotesquely charred corpses.

The vessel had become nothing more than a floating tomb.

Xiuborn gathered the corpses from the deck and placed them in the ship’s storage hold.

The spirits of the dead endlessly wandered around Xiuborn, showing no reaction even when their corpses were moved, as if everything in the outside world no longer concerned them.

After arranging the corpses, Xiuborn emerged from the hold.

Yet when sunlight fell upon him, he suddenly froze, staring at the deck in shock.

Though he could touch anything on the ship and felt as alive as ever, as if nothing had changed.

Yet now he discovered that beneath the sun, he cast no shadow.

“Where is my shadow?”

No matter how he twisted his body or changed his direction, his shadow remained absent.

Though Witch Spirits could transform between corporeal and incorporeal states, their true form was the Book of the Witch Spirit.

Their bodies resembled those of monsters, formed from the power of incantations, mythological blood, and the force of memory.

Human memory held power, for knowledge was humanity’s understanding of the world, a tool for operating within it.

A Witch Spirit’s self-awareness gave form to their physical shape.

With a mere thought, Xiuborn changed his clothes to a different set.

“So this is what it means to be a Witch Spirit.”

Xiuborn gained his first real understanding of a Witch Spirit’s power, but in the vast ocean, this alone would not suffice.

He needed even greater power to return to land.

Xiuborn had only just transformed into a Witch Spirit, and was merely a servant-level Witch Spirit.

This meant he was a servant of God, not even qualifying as a true Priest of God.

He would need to become a lower-rank Witch Spirit, a lower Priest of God, to gain power capable of changing reality and reversing their situation.

Xiuborn began familiarizing himself with his powers aboard the ship, occasionally visiting the Door of Truth to seek answers from Polik’s ghost.

Servant-level Witch Spirits could master several basic Divine Techniques:

Three techniques concerning memory: “Control Memory, Modify Memory, and Steal Memory.”

Two techniques concerning ghosts: “Contract Ghost and Control Ghost.”

One technique concerning the mind: “True Illusion Realm.”

Xiuborn gathered all the ghosts on the ship into his Book of the Witch Spirit, forming contracts with them.

Normally only second-rank contractors could communicate with the Dream Realm and form contracts with other beings, but because this contract was achieved through the Door of Truth and the subjects were ghosts, Witch Spirits could contract with ghosts even at first rank.

Even the number of contracts varied based on one’s own power and the Door of Truth’s grace.

Most contractors could bind themselves to only a few ghosts at most.

Yet Xiuborn had contracted with every ghost on the ship at once. If not for Polik’s Right Hand within him and his status as a contractor of the Door of Truth, he would likely have been instantly destroyed by the backlash.

In return, he pledged to rebuild the City of Avel and help the spirits claim their vengeance.

True Illusion Realm used the power to manipulate memories and ghosts to create a prepared illusion within the Book of the Witch Spirit.

It combined with the terrain and environment of reality to form a domain both real and illusory.

When deployed, anyone who entered would fall under the Witch Spirit’s control.

Xiuborn immediately used the great ship and all its ghosts to create his True Illusion Realm.

“Whoosh!”

The Book of the Witch Spirit opened, and on its sixth page appeared the name of the Divine Technique “True Illusion Realm.”

Then, an Avel-style ship materialized on its pages.

Xiuborn lifted the Book of the Witch Spirit and called out.

“True Illusion Realm!”

As the power manifested, the charred ship seemed to reverse time, returning to its state before the fire spirit had scorched it.

The entire vessel renewed itself, its woodwork shedding the char and smoke to release a natural wooden fragrance.

The sails rose as if swelling with sea wind.

One by one, the ship’s people appeared on deck and in the cabins, some gazing into the distance from the deck, others conversing below.

Crew members and sailors busied themselves about the ship, some scrubbing the deck, others securing ropes, some sitting beside water barrels.

They conversed and laughed together, appearing as vibrant as when they were alive.

Yet upon closer inspection, though the sails were raised, the ship merely drifted with the waves, showing no real movement.

Xiuborn watched this scene, his face first breaking into a smile before giving way to a long sigh.

The True Illusion Realm might deceive others, but as its master, he could clearly see the burned and broken hull, and the ship full of long-dead ghosts.

How desperate must one be to willingly immerse themselves in illusions of their own making?

Desperate enough to deceive oneself.

The power bestowed by divine beings proved truly mighty. Though this was only first-rank power, a Witch Spirit could easily overwhelm other first-rank Ability bearers.

Xiuborn then began his next stage of cultivation. Since he had already achieved the rank of second-rank Ability bearer, this training came naturally to him, and he quickly mastered its essentials.

Spiritual power marked those who achieved second-rank Wisdom Ability, granting them the power to influence reality through illusion.

The same held true for Witch Spirits.

A lower-rank Witch Spirit’s power enabled their contracted ghosts to affect reality through spiritual power, though these ghosts could not stray far from them.

Moreover, Witch Spirits could grant knowledge to these ghosts, allowing them to master certain skills and techniques, though they would still mechanically follow orders, obeying the Witch Spirit’s commands.

Xiuborn reactivated these ghosts.

He used them to control the great ship, having them spread across the mast to form a ghostly sail, propelling the vessel forward.

At last the ship began moving with purpose, no longer drifting aimlessly across the sea.

Following the seafaring techniques of Avel’s people, he determined their course by the stars above and found the correct route.

Following this route, he sailed northward toward Ruhe Beast Island.

Xiuborn stood at the bow while hundreds of ghosts stretched across the mast, forming a sail upon the blackened ship.

Spiritual power spread outward like a net, continuously extending in all directions.

The great ship cut swiftly through the sea, leaving a white wake behind.

Xiuborn whispered softly: “I’m going home.”

He was returning.

There lay his homeland, his temple, his people.

Waves crashed against the reefs, tides eroded the shore, creating ancient sounds.

In the distance, mountains rose and fell, covered in endless forests and exposed black rock.

A city stood by the sea.

Its walls bore great gaps, scars left by the stone golems’ assault.

The city lay in ruins and ash, marked by the fire spirit’s flames.

No signs of life remained in the houses and buildings. War had left only desolation.

At this moment, an otherworldly ship arrived at the shore, coming to rest at the fire-scorched dock.

“Return!”

Xiuborn anchored the ship at the dock and gathered all the ghosts into his Book of the Witch Spirit.

The ghosts clinging to the mast transformed into shadows, falling into the book in Xiuborn’s hands.

Xiuborn stepped onto shore, his heart still holding some hope.

He hoped people had begun rebuilding, that someone had started restoring order.

The loss of one battle should not destroy their civilization, he thought. As long as their people remained, as long as the people of Avel endured.

He believed that together with the people of Avel, they could rebuild their city and restore their civilization’s brilliance.

Yet Xiuborn could not have imagined the true extent of the Royal Court’s greed and the maritime alliance’s methods.

When he entered the City of Avel, not a single living soul remained in the entire city.

Moreover, he saw no one in the surrounding towns and villages either.

“How could this happen?”

“Where is everyone?”

“Where have all the people gone?”

He stood in the city center shouting, spinning around until he grew dizzy.

Even after a war, surely some people would remain.

Xiuborn shouted as he ran through the City of Avel.

He could not believe what his eyes witnessed.

Finally, near the city gate, he spotted more than a dozen figures.

They were people scavenging in the ruins, several elderly and children led by a young man.

Xiuborn approached, and they immediately fled at the sight of him.

Only when they realized he was alone did they stop.

Xiuborn asked them: “Where have all the city’s people gone?”

One of the elders spoke up: “The young were all taken away. Not even children were spared. Every town and village was plundered empty, everyone was captured.”

“Two months ago, it happened,” the elder continued. “The roads were filled with people bound in ropes, blocking both the seaside and main roads.”

“They were loaded onto ships or marched south to the beast-herding plains, all condemned to slavery.”

Someone else added: “The young men were either sold to the city-states or to the City of Lights.”

“Most were taken by the people of the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents.”

This was how the tribes of the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents operated, taking everything from their enemies.

Men were enslaved, either sold to city-states, sent to mines, or made to work in workshops.

Women and children were taken, with children raised as their own, naturally becoming members of their tribes when grown.

One young man said: “Many fled into the mountains. I hid there for two months.”

“I only dared return after seeing them leave.”

Xiuborn immediately told the young man: “I am Xiuborn, former chief attendant of the temple. Can you find others and bring them back?”

The young man’s eyes widened: “Temple attendant? Chief attendant?”

An elderly person also recognized him, exclaiming excitedly.

“Lord Xiuborn, yes, it’s Lord Xiuborn!”

“I saw you from afar during last year’s divine ceremony.”

The young man and elder could barely contain their excitement, as if they had found their anchor.

Chief attendant of the temple.

In some ways, this position commanded even more respect from common people of Avel than the king himself.

The young man said: “I’ll go call them back. I know where they’re hiding.”

The elder also spoke: “My lord, you’ve finally returned.”

“What of the king?”

“Is the king still alive?”

Xiuborn remained silent, only shaking his head.

“The king is gone.”

“The king has fallen as well?” they asked dejectedly.

“Curse the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents!” they spat bitterly.

In the square before the temple.

Several thousand, nearly ten thousand people gathered, drawn by news spread over the past few days.

Most were elderly or weak, with few young adults among them.

The others had either been captured, died in the war, or fled deeper into the mountains.

Some distrusted the news, suspecting it to be false information spread by the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents and the maritime alliance, and refused to emerge.

“Is this all that remains?” Xiuborn asked, his voice hollow with shock.

A youth dressed as a temple attendant standing beside Xiuborn answered: “If we search more, there should be quite a few more.”

“In a few days, we should have close to twenty thousand.”

The person beside Xiuborn was a temple attendant apprentice, still just a youth.

Originally, he would not have qualified to enter the temple or stand beside Xiuborn.

But now, finding even someone like this proved extremely difficult.

While thousands remained, Avel had lost its heart—nearly a hundred thousand people, including most of their elite.

The young and strong, the scholars, craftsmen, nobles, Avel had lost the framework that supported their civilization.

Of course, tens of thousands from various fishing and hunting tribes still lived in the northern forests.

However, though they too were descendants of Avel, they had rarely heeded the City of Avel’s authority before. Now with the King of Avel gone, even fewer would follow their commands.

Seeing this situation, even Xiuborn felt despair creeping in.

No matter his determination, without people everything seemed hopeless.

With so few people, mostly elderly and weak, just restoring their former population would take untold time.

Let alone returning to their peak.

“My lord.”

“My lord.”

The temple attendant apprentice’s calls finally brought Xiuborn back to his senses.

He immediately began organizing everyone, first appointing village heads for each village and town.

They needed to restore some semblance of order to daily life, allowing these people to survive here.

Deep in the night.

Xiuborn tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He rose, taking a lamp with him to the temple’s main hall.

Xiuborn stood motionless before the Life Sovereign’s statue, lost in contemplation.

He lifted his head.

He seemed to become a statue himself.

At this moment, another figure emerged from a corner of the temple.

“Lord Xiuborn.”

“You cannot sleep either?”

Xiuborn did not turn around, knowing who had come.

“You’re awake as well?”

Only two temple attendants remained in the City of Avel’s temple. There was no need to guess who had come.

Xiuborn asked him: “How did you survive that battle?”

The other replied: “I hid in a secret cellar underground, one rarely used. They never found me.”

“I watched the soldiers kill my companions while covering my mouth, not daring to make a sound.”

“I lay there looking up as blood dripped onto my face, staining even my eyes crimson.”

His voice began to tremble. Though Xiuborn hadn’t turned around, he could feel the other’s body shaking.

“Since that day.”

“Everything I see appears blood red.”

“As if… that blood still stains my eyes, impossible to wash away.”

Xiuborn did not condemn his cowardice, for he too had fled the City of Avel during the battle.

When the world crumbles around you, what choice do the weak have?

It was because of their weakness that they yearned for faith.

It was because of their weakness that they begged the divine for mercy.

The temple apprentice spoke to Xiuborn: “My lord!”

“Why do we serve God?”

After much hesitation, he finally continued.

“We pray for God’s protection, but God offers none.”

“We hope for God’s guidance, but God has never provided any direction.”

Xiuborn didn’t know how to answer.

He lifted his head, remaining silent for a long while before speaking.

“Perhaps.”

“The Life Sovereign and such deities should remain above us, gazing down upon the mortal realm. Our prayers and faith might hold no meaning at all.”

“It is not God who needs us, but we who need God.”

“We need something to believe in, we need a force that binds us together, that gives us courage to survive in this world.”

The temple apprentice told Xiuborn: “Lord Xiuborn.”

“I feel lost, unsure where to place my faith.”

“Before, whenever I stood here, this place felt sacred. I believed my faith had substance, had color.”

“But now.”

“Standing here, God seems nothing more than stone.”

“Enough!” Xiuborn’s voice rang out.

Xiuborn turned and left, seemingly in anger.

But he knew he simply felt adrift.

He shared in the apprentice’s confusion, lost in the same doubts.

Leaving the temple, Xiuborn ran down from the heights, circling through the empty city.

Finally, he climbed the steps to the city wall.

The wall’s steps seemed endless as he continued upward, step after step.

Lost in his thoughts, Xiuborn found himself enveloped by darkness, the City of Avel, sky, and moon all vanished from sight.

Before him stood only a great door bound by layers of chains.

He had arrived before the Door of Truth once again.

As if possessed, he asked the ghost beside the door: “How can I gain greater power? Power to protect my people and nation, power to restore the City of Avel to its former glory?”

Ghost Polik replied: “Sacrifice to the God of Knowledge and Truth!”

“Believe in the God of Knowledge and Truth!”

“Worship the God of Knowledge and Truth!”

“Then you shall receive all you desire.”

Xiuborn’s mouth fell open, nearly accepting on the spot.

His faith had wavered, no longer steadfast.

Yet perhaps he still needed an excuse to convince himself.

He needed truth, or rather, a fact that would completely shatter his beliefs.

“Tell me the truth. Do all wisdom bloodlines truly descend from the deity named Redlichia?”

“You say the Creator is God Yinsai. Is this true?”

“I cannot believe it unless you can prove it all.”

Xiuborn barely recognized his own voice as the words spilled forth. He felt as if some nameless force in his heart drove him forward, pulling him ever deeper into the abyss.

Ghost Polik suddenly raised his head, his gaze blazing with light.

Though now a ghost, his power still exceeded anything Xiuborn could comprehend.

He was Asai’s follower, the first contractor of the Door of Truth.

He had stood behind one who dared challenge and strike at God, watching as that being struck down the Evil God from his lofty perch, turning an immortal existence to mist.

He had lived through that war worthy of mythology, witnessing the mightiest myths and mortals pursue the final curtain of an era.

His gaze pierced through all of Xiuborn’s memories, seeing a plateau, seeing ice mountains and a lake.

A peak that even Wing Demons dared not fly over, a forbidden land of death.

“In your memories I see a place called Heaven’s Mirror.”

“In that place you may find all the answers you seek.”

Ghost Polik suddenly stepped forward: “If you wish to know everything that once was, go see for yourself!”

Ghost Polik’s finger touched Xiuborn’s forehead, and suddenly ancient languages and writing flooded into his mind.

This was knowledge from the previous era, the language and writing of the Trilobite People.

Setting out northeast from the City of Avel, the terrain grew increasingly elevated.

Xiuborn passed through treacherous territory.

Here stood a fortress called the Ice River Fortress.

A perpetually frozen river flowed past in the distance, giving the fortress its name.

This had been a strategic position guarded by the City of Avel’s forces, but its unexpected fall to the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents had led to their previous defeat, leaving no time even to escape.

Now the fortress lay in scattered ruins, destroyed beyond recognition.

Xiuborn stood beneath the ruined stones, thinking.

Had the fortress only managed to send a warning that day, everything might have been different. Our people could have escaped by ship.

“If not for the cursed Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents deceiving and betraying us, would the City of Avel still stand?”

Such thoughts were meaningless now. What was done could not be undone.

Xiuborn continued onward, heading northeast toward the frozen plateau.

He traversed snow-covered forests and mountain ranges buried in ice and snow.

Finally, he reached the highest peak of the frozen plateau, a mountain resembling both volcano and giant cup.

At its summit lay a perpetually frozen lake.

This was Heaven’s Mirror.

The melting ice and snow of this frozen plateau flowed outward as rivers, nourishing all of Ruhe Beast Island.

This was Ruhe Beast Island’s water treasury, controlling the gates of water and rivers.

At last Xiuborn stood before Heaven’s Mirror.

The lake’s frozen surface showed not a single snowflake.

The ice stretched pure and flawless, perfectly reflecting the sky above.

“Heaven’s Mirror.”

Xiuborn stood atop the mountains, at the center of a snow-white world.

Before him, the mirror reflected sea of clouds and sunset.

Standing here, he truly understood the meaning of Heaven’s Mirror.

This was divine miracle, a mirror of the firmament itself.

Xiuborn truly felt his own insignificance, small enough to be completely consumed.

The world felt so vast that a single breath, a single moment, could erase him from existence.

Standing here, time seemed to lose meaning, as if he had synchronized with the world and sky themselves.

Time passed before he recalled why he had come to this place.

He looked at the ice surface, then at the distant setting sun.

“Not time yet.”

Legend said that at midnight, the lake would reflect another world.

Some said it showed God’s realm, a world above the heavens that mortals could not see.

Others said it was a city frozen beneath the waters.

Yet the Snake People remained unaware of the truth…

This lake had been formed by the power of the Sele Sea Spirit. The mountain, lake, and even this plateau existed because of it.

The entire Ruhe Beast Island had been formed when the great beasts consumed everything from the previous era, incorporating certain elements into their own bodies.

Like the Star Night Mountain Range and the City of Life.

And here stood another such place.

Xiuborn remained at the frozen lake’s edge.

He stood in contemplation, waiting for the right moment.

As the moon rose overhead and cast its reflection upon the ice, something extraordinary occurred.

The entire ice surface melted instantly, like spring arriving in a single moment.

The melting accelerated to an impossible speed, the ice retreating in the blink of an eye.

The lake water lay perfectly still, as if an infinitely powerful hand had smoothed its surface, shielding it from all outside forces.

Within the depths, the water revealed an entirely different world.

Within its depths, Xiuborn saw an ancient mountain reaching into the clouds.

He could faintly make out a city built upon the mountain, with a temple at its peak.

This mountain bore the weight of ages and secrets, a sacred mountain where the supreme deity was worshipped.

The sheer weight of time, the traces of countless believers’ faith.

The sight struck him with such awe that his mind fell silent.

“Splash!”

The moment moonlight touched the surface, Xiuborn dove eagerly into the lake, piercing through the water.

He swam downward, but after a brief moment, he found himself falling from above.

The crossing felt like stepping between worlds.

He fell continuously, certain he would be crushed upon impact.

Fortunately, Xiuborn was a lower-rank Witch Spirit.

He immediately transformed his body to ethereal form, allowing himself to drift down onto the mountain.

Xiuborn could never have imagined what lay beneath Heaven’s Mirror.

He lifted his head.

Above him churned the lake’s waters and light. Moonlight penetrated the pure, pristine water, illuminating the city and buildings beneath his feet.

“How is this possible, beneath the lake?”

“A whole world exists under these waters?”

Xiuborn gazed in amazement at his surroundings, stunned beyond words by both Heaven’s Mirror above and this submerged city below.

Finally, he turned his full attention to the city itself.

Could this be a city from the previous era?

The city of the Trilobite People, a kingdom built by the divine firstborn lineage.

The city had been created entirely through Divine Techniques, merged with the mountain itself. They had reshaped the earth as if the entire peak were merely clay in their hands, to be carved at will.

The city’s buildings stood tall and majestic, arranged in layers. Exquisite decorations filled the streets, every structure radiating elegance and refinement.

Seeing this city, he suddenly believed the title “divine firstborn lineage.”

Only such a magnificent civilization, such beings, could have built such an imposing and grand city.

The God-Servant City of the Trilobite People.

The city built by Yesael, the second King of Wisdom.

This ancient city had endured two hundred million years before appearing once again before mortal eyes.

Though everything, every stone, had been eroded and merged with the great beast’s power.

Yet because of this very fact, it had been preserved forever.

The great beast had frozen it in time at its most glorious moment, preserving its most beautiful instant.

All those who once dwelled here had long since vanished.

Xiuborn observed his surroundings and found himself standing upon a great ceremonial stairway.

This sacred path led straight to the mountain’s peak.

Looking down, two colossal statues knelt on either side of the path.

Crowned figures stood in eternal welcome to approaching divine beings.

Upon seeing those crowns, Xiuborn felt an overwhelming urge to kneel in worship.

Those crowns made his blood run cold, his very consciousness trembling in their presence.

He quickly averted his gaze, no longer daring to look below.

“What was that?”

“Why do I feel such terror at those crowns? What do they represent?”

Yet through those kneeling colossal figures, Xiuborn sensed something.

He looked up along the path toward the heights.

There he saw an ancient and sacred structure at the very top.

Though this temple’s style differed completely from Snake People temples, Xiuborn instantly understood it was indeed a temple.

This temple housed the deity of the Trilobite People, the most ancient God in all existence.

Here lay truths from countless ages past, secrets hidden behind the veil of previous eras.

He lifted his head, gazing at the temple as he climbed step by step toward it.

As he walked, he felt grand, majestic, sacred power completely surrounding him.

It felt like a baptism, the ancient holiness and faith from countless ages past overwhelming his spirit.

Finally, he reached the temple’s entrance.

A stone tablet stood there.

He saw the writing upon it, the script of the Trilobite People.

It read.

“The Sky Temple.”

A shiver ran through Xiuborn’s entire body, his heart filling with fear, reverence, and revelation.

He suddenly wanted to flee, afraid to enter this temple.

He didn’t know what filled him with such terror and awe.

Perhaps he feared seeing the whole truth, dreaded learning the Creator’s secrets, or felt overwhelmed at entering a temple from countless ages past.

His hesitation finally broke. He walked upward through the Sky Temple’s three levels and numerous halls.

Yet Xiuborn moved with singular purpose toward the main hall at the highest level.

The massive metal doors stood half-open. Xiuborn summoned all his spiritual power, calling forth his ghosts to slowly push open the great doors.

Light poured into the temple, casting upon the walls.

Xiuborn raised his head, seeing the divine pedestal in the temple’s center.

He beheld the statue of Creator Yinsai, carved by Yesael, the second King of Wisdom himself.

His strength instantly left him as he leaned against the temple doors.

He couldn’t help but speak the deity’s name, the name of the true Creator.

“Creator… Yinsai.”

The supreme Yinsai stood at the pedestal’s center, with His firstborn Redlichia, the King of Wisdom, standing below, the ancestor and deity of the Trilobite People’s faith.

To the right of the divine throne, a goddess reclined in an ornate chair, cradling a starlight-filled eggshell in sleep, dream-realms vast as star oceans seemingly spilling from the shell.

And to Yinsai’s left sat a young girl upon a throne.

She wore a dress and tilted her head back as if blowing bubbles.

At her waist hung a small conch horn.

The Mother Conch of All Things.

The horn that could both create and end all life.

Xiuborn froze in shock.

Though the image differed greatly from their worshipped deity, he instantly recognized their god.

Their creator, the supreme sovereign.

Shelly, the Mother of Life.

Xiuborn walked inside as if in a trance, head tilted far back.

He stared at his surroundings in confusion.

This temple recorded ancient mythology, its side walls painted with stories of two generations of saints, showing the beautiful and sacred Sun Cup Flower Sea.

The air echoed with countless Trilobite People’s voices of praise, their faith and prayers.

One could hear the Hymn of the King of Wisdom and the Yinsai Epic, countless voices praising their Creator, the supreme God Yinsai.

Overwhelmed, Xiuborn covered his face and fell helplessly prostrate upon the ground.

One could not tell if he bowed before the true Creator or if the truth had left him too shocked to stand.

“So everything they said was true, so… this is how it really was.”

“Creator Yinsai… divine firstborn… source of wisdom.”

Though he had become a Witch Spirit, he felt as if someone gripped his throat in an iron hold, leaving him gasping for breath.

He lay upon the ground, struggling to breathe.

His whole being alternated between laughing and weeping.