Inside the Storage Spirit Realm.

Bright sunlight, sandy beaches, a small island, and a white tower formed a delightful private space that belonged to her alone.

At this moment, puppet Oran sat quietly in a wheelchair. Saint Raphael cheerfully pushed it through her Storage Spirit Realm, her playful energy filling the air.

The puppet preferred stillness, so it simply let her do as she pleased.

Or rather, every time it moved, it needed to use the power of Elena’s Heart. This use of power would cause Elena’s Heart to corrode it, making the puppet prefer to sit.

Saint Raphael gradually learned puppet Oran’s story. It had become a puppet after merging with Elena’s Heart. This strange stone had turned it into a metal shell and also granted it the power to control metal.

“So, this heart turned you into a puppet that can talk,” she said thoughtfully, “but if you use its power too much, it will consume you completely.”

“And then what happens?” she asked curiously.

Puppet Oran hesitated. “Maybe I would become just a lifeless puppet.”

It paused, then added, “The kind that can’t talk.” It worried Saint Raphael might not understand.

Saint Raphael frowned at the thought. “I do not like that idea. I prefer a puppet that can talk.”

She tilted her head, thinking aloud. “Could we replace the heart with something else?”

Puppet Oran shook its head. “If you dig it out, I would die.”

“You would not die,” Saint Raphael corrected quickly. “You would just break.”

The puppet remained silent, offering no response.

Seeing puppet Oran like this, Saint Raphael decided to deliberately tease it.

“Let’s try something,” she said. “Like replacing it with a wooden heart. I think that would be nice.”

“We nymphs grow from trees, you know.”

Puppet Oran did not want to engage with her. It had heard that nymphs were quiet and gentle. It had never imagined that actually meeting a nymph would reveal such a chatty and boisterous character.

Saint Raphael pushed puppet Oran beneath the rainbow tree. Bright sunlight shone on the beach. The rainbow tree swayed in the gentle breeze, and flower fragrance drifted from above to Saint Raphael’s nose.

Saint Raphael took a deep breath of the flower scent. From her expression, puppet Oran could imagine the overwhelming fragrance.

Saint Raphael then shared her vision for the future of the Storage Spirit Realm.

“When I reach Fourth-Rank,” she said with excitement, “the spirit realm will become its own space.”

“I will bring it back to the Creator’s Domain, and you and the Storage Spirits can come along. You will get to meet my friends.”

“I have so many friends,” she added, her smile bright.

“They are all amazing and full of interesting stories.”

Saint Raphael gestured toward the rainbow tree’s flowers. “When the time comes,” she explained, “these flowers will hold the power of space. Each blooming flower will create a small dimensional space within it. I have seen this happen with Sister Florrie’s rainbow tree.”

“These spaces are born when the flowers bloom,” she continued, “and disappear when they fall.”

“Mortals will be able to use these dimensional spaces. The more they use them, the more their storage wishes will transform into energy. This energy will merge with my rainbow tree, helping it grow larger.”

“The bigger the tree becomes, the more flowers it will produce.”

“It could grow to hundreds of meters, thousands of meters, even ten thousand meters tall!”

Saint Raphael had never truly considered how tall a ten-thousand-meter tree would be. She was just speaking from her imagination.

Saint Raphael then pointed to the white tower. She also had plans for it.

“The tower will remain unchanged,” she said, “so things stored inside will last forever.”

If the rainbow flower spaces had time limits, the white tower, in contrast, contained truly eternal storage spaces.

“But eventually, the tower will be filled,” she wondered aloud. “Should I build new towers?”

“Also, I am not Fourth-Rank yet, so the rainbow tree’s flowers cannot form dimensional spaces yet.”

“How should I collect the Light of Wishes for storage?”

Saint Raphael pushed the wheelchair, resting her chin on her hands, which were placed on the chair’s back.

“If only someone could help me figure this out,” she mused aloud, her tone deliberately exaggerated.

“But then again,” she added with a sly smile, “you are just a puppet. What could you possibly do to solve my problems?”

Saint Raphael’s playful attempt at reverse psychology was obvious, but Oran remained unmoved.

It simply preferred to stay uninvolved.

However, under Saint Raphael’s constant chatter and what it perceived as an ear-piercing voice, puppet Oran finally offered an opinion.

“You could have alchemists help you build the white tower through rituals,” it suggested. “This would turn the white tower into an alchemical artifact.”

“However much they expand this alchemical artifact themselves, they would receive that much storage space. This way, the white tower will become increasingly powerful, possessing ever-larger storage space.”

“You can also use rainbow tree petals as the core of ritual arrays. This would create a specialized storage alchemical artifact specifically for depositing and retrieving, connecting to this spirit realm and the white tower.”

“This artifact would then be the only credential for opening the internal space of the white tower.”

“Initially, you could let alchemists store items through the rainbow tree hollow and then retrieve items through the rainbow tree hollow.”

“Later, when you become Fourth-Rank, you can even guide alchemists or other professionals to create artifacts for direct extraction and storage.”

As a former alchemist, puppet Oran’s suggestion was quite reliable.

Saint Raphael nodded but then looked up at her rainbow tree.

“Petals?” she asked.

“But won’t they pluck my rainbow tree bare?”

Saint Raphael often asked questions that seemed naive, a trait the puppet had grown used to.

“You are a nymph with supernatural powers, born of divine origin,” the puppet replied. “As your strength grows, you will be able to produce endless petals.”

Saint Raphael thought this method was indeed good. Eagerly, she immediately pushed the wheelchair and the puppet back.

As Saint Raphael pushed the wheelchair, puppet Oran suddenly broke the silence. “You come from the Creator’s Domain, right?” it asked, its voice steady but curious.

Saint Raphael nodded with a smile. “That’s right.”

After a brief pause, puppet Oran tilted its head slightly, as if pondering something. “Have you ever seen the Creator?”

Saint Raphael’s expression brightened. “Of course, I have!” she replied confidently.

Puppet Oran hesitated for a moment before asking again, “What is the Creator like?”

As puppet Oran asked this difficult question, it recalled seeing the statue of the Mother of Life, Shelly, in Suinhor.

That was an incredibly great deity in mythological legend, a goddess who created all life, including the snake people.

To the snake people of the Land of Sunrise, the Creator was seen as the maker of the mortal world. The Dream Sovereign, the chief deity of the Miracle Temple, was regarded as the ruler of the Kingdom of Gods.

Saint Raphael paused thoughtfully before speaking. “I did not dare to look directly,” she admitted. “But I could sense it… a presence as radiant as the stars. Just glancing downward, I saw endless light flowing from Him, spreading across the entire world.”

Her voice filled with awe, she continued, “You can feel it, unmistakably. He is the source of all power, the beginning of everything.”

Puppet Oran nodded thoughtfully, agreeing with the description. “Yes,” it said quietly. “She is the one who created us.”

The two were clearly not talking about the same person, but neither of them realized it.

Puppet Oran then asked, “What about the God of Alchemy and Desire, the great God Iva?”

Saint Raphael smiled. “He is kind and generous,” she said, “always willing to give.”

Puppet Oran had never heard someone describe a deity with such words.

Half a year later.

Black Fire City in the Land of Sunrise.

A mercenary, wearing leather armor and wielding an iron sword, entered the alchemist council’s hall. He threw the head of a four-armed snake demon’s corpse onto the table. The bracelet on his hand, clearly a powerful alchemical artifact, indicated he was a strong ability user who possessed supernatural powers.

In Suinhor and the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents, such people would mostly become knights under a regional lord or directly join the army, seeking to become nobility. Some chose to join temples, becoming divine servants.

But in the Land of Sunrise, the atmosphere was more open. This place was essentially a lawless zone.

Many low-rank ability users, whether from the local area or from Suinhor and the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents, chose to join ship crews and sail the seas. Others became mercenaries or simply wandered around for various reasons, forming their own supernatural forces.

Some alchemical schools had initially risen to prominence this way.

He proudly wiped his nose and asked the attendant behind the table, “How many Xin Ji can I exchange for this?”

Xin Ji, in the snake people’s language, meant gold. It was also the name of the first Grand Elder of the Land of Sunrise.

However, since the Land of Sunrise gold coins were also printed with this Grand Elder’s crude portrait, Xin Ji now also represented gold coins.

The attendant called an alchemist from the back to verify. After the verification, the alchemist spoke to the mercenary.

They seemed to know each other, or at least they had traded many times before.

“You are in luck,” the alchemist said. “Materials have increased in price recently.”

Initially, alchemists would use their own power to create artifacts.

Later, they began hunting monsters to extract materials, using them to create the alchemical artifacts they wanted.

Recently, however, alchemists had found a new target.

They were hunting Abyss monsters, extracting power and desired alchemical materials from them.

The Abyss power had corrosive properties. However, alchemists had ways to separate powers with spiritual contamination through Lamps of Covenant.

Therefore, a profession of monster hunters had recently emerged not only in the Land of Sunrise but also in Suinhor and the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents.

By hunting those corrupted people and demons, these hunters exchanged their body materials with alchemists for vast wealth. They also traded for alchemical artifacts, divine technique scriptures, and all sorts of other things.

The mercenary took the bag, weighed it, and opened it to check. He found it was indeed more than usual.

Concerned about his path to wealth, he asked another question. “Why have prices increased?”

“Haven’t you heard?” the alchemist replied. “A nymph from the Creator’s Domain came down to the mortal world, bringing blessings from the gods.”

The alchemist’s voice was filled with reverence. This was a nymph who had brought them wealth and divine techniques. From his perspective, it had all come for free.

What could be more generous than that?

“The nymph brought us the gospel, a genuine gospel,” he said.

“The nymph bestowed upon us the power and method to create storage artifacts. Because of the need to create these artifacts, supernatural materials have become very scarce lately.”

“You should take advantage of the high prices now,” the alchemist advised. “They might not stay this way for long.”

“What are storage artifacts good for?” the young monster hunter asked.

The alchemist held up a ring with a petal design. “This ring is a storage artifact,” he explained. “It lets me store items in the nymph’s spirit realm and retrieve them from any rainbow tree, no matter where I am.”

The monster hunter leaned in, intrigued. “So, you have got a stash of treasures in there, huh?”

The alchemist quickly pulled his hand back, his eyes narrowing. “That is not something you need to know.”

The monster hunter smirked, already imagining the possibilities such artifacts could offer. “So, it is like having a stash that no one can touch or steal?” he asked.

The alchemist nodded. “Exactly. Say I hide something valuable in the City of Lights. If I send this ring to someone, they can retrieve those items even if they are in the City of Fire Protection.”

He added with a grin, “There are plenty of other uses, but that is all you need to know for now.”

The monster hunter became interested. He thought he could hide his own things too.

This way, if his identity was exposed and he faced pursuit, he would not have to worry about being unable to take his belongings when fleeing.

Indeed, the monster hunter was a wanted criminal from Suinhor. This was not surprising, as many in this profession were individuals with problematic backgrounds from various places.

The alchemist leaned forward with a grin. “I have been working on storage artifacts lately, and I am getting pretty good at it. If you bring me more supernatural materials, I can offer you a better deal.”

The monster hunter raised an eyebrow. “What if I want a ring like yours?”

The alchemist chuckled. “I might even give you a discount, if the materials are good enough.”

The monster hunter nodded with satisfaction and then prepared to leave.

As he turned to leave, a thought struck him. He paused to ask, “What’s the nymph’s name?”

The alchemist glanced up. “Saint Raphael,” he replied.

The monster hunter repeated the name under his breath, committing it to memory. “Saint Raphael… Sounds like a name from another world.”

Thus, the name of Saint Raphael, the Storage Nymph, began to echo across the Land of Sunrise.

In time, her name might reach every corner of the world.

Wherever ability users gathered, and wherever storage artifacts were found, her presence would be known.

As storage artifacts gained popularity, an increasing number of alchemists dedicated themselves to crafting them. The energy generated by these mortal endeavors soon resonated within the still-developing Storage Spirit Realm.

Within the Storage Spirit Realm.

Saint Raphael pushed the wheelchair up the spiral staircase outside the white tower. Suddenly, she raised her head and opened her mouth wide.

Achoo!

The puppet tilted its head, puzzled. “Do nymphs sneeze?” it asked.

Saint Raphael chuckled. “It happens when too many people say my name,” she replied.

“I have been trying to block it out,” she continued, “but sometimes it still gets through. Maybe I am just not used to so many people calling me. It will probably get better over time.”

After sneezing, Saint Raphael grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “What can I say? I am popular!” she said with a playful shrug.

“But honestly, some of the things they ask for are ridiculous. Some even treat me like a wishing machine, asking for gold coins!” She rolled her eyes and added with a laugh, “I am not a gold coin nymph, you know.”

Nymphs were dream creatures. When people spoke their names, especially ability users, nymphs could sense certain information through the Dream Realm.

“Why keep the staircase?” puppet Oran asked. “Why not just open a door?”

Saint Raphael tilted her head thoughtfully before answering. “Don’t you think climbing the staircase feels more meaningful? It is like when you send off a paper airplane. You have to give it a little push first.”

Puppet Oran blinked, puzzled. “What is a paper airplane?”

Saint Raphael grinned. “It is an airplane made of paper.”

The puppet frowned slightly. “And what is an airplane?”

Saint Raphael froze for a moment, her expression blank. “Huh… Yes, what is an airplane?”

She turned to puppet Oran, her confusion mirroring its own. “What is an airplane?”

She realized that nymphs had been calling them paper airplanes for so long but had never understood the origin or meaning of the name.

“That is just what the spirits call them.”

As for where the spirits learned it, it was probably from the deity in the Pyramid Temple.

But in this world, probably few people could seek answers from Him. Even if someone could see the great Him, who would ask such a meaningless question?

Saint Raphael reached the top of the white tower and entered.

She stepped onto a white square platform. It smoothly began descending into the depths of the white tower.

Around her, compartments of various sizes shifted aside, creating a clear and seamless path.

The movement was fluid and synchronized, resembling the intricate dance of dominoes falling in perfect order.

The white tower now looked completely different from before. With the help of alchemists from across the Land of Sunrise, it had been forged into the embryonic form of a massive supernatural artifact, building on the foundation of the former Tower Spirit School headquarters.

The white tower’s appearance had completely changed. Though it was still cylindrical on the outside, the interior was perfectly square.

Movement inside the white tower was no longer by stairs but through a system of elevators.

The white tower’s interior was divided into many compartments of varying sizes. These were fitted together and could even move up, down, left, and right relative to each other.

These compartments served as storage lockers.

One could also ride the compartments up and down, an experience that was quite magical and interesting.

When storage lockers became insufficient, this tower-artifact would expand on its own, creating new spaces and new storage compartments.

For now, the white tower was still in its early stages of development. The available space was more than sufficient, so there was no need to worry about expanding it yet.

When this artifact was being forged and designed, puppet Oran and old Tut offered many suggestions.

In this field, they were the most knowledgeable.

Even so, Saint Raphael insisted on keeping the method of entering from the outside: climbing the stairs to the top, and then entering the tower.

While this approach was inconvenient, Saint Raphael found it deeply satisfying.

Saint Raphael stood on a storage compartment.

She watched as the compartment gradually slowed, finally arriving at the deepest part of the white tower.

Here were the first few storage compartments, which were divided into three huge storage cabinets.

Saint Raphael had deliberately left the first three empty. These were storage cabinets she had reserved for the three highest gods.

These storage cabinets would also continuously expand and grow larger as her power strengthened and as the white tower expanded.

Saint Raphael carefully placed Dream Sovereign Hila’s ring in one of them. Although the Dream Sovereign had essentially given the ring to her, Saint Raphael still stored it away when not using it.

After carefully storing everything, Saint Raphael beamed with joy.

“I did it!” she exclaimed, her excitement evident.

Turning to puppet Oran, her face lit up with happiness. “This was my first storage mission, entrusted to me by Lady Hila.”

She paused for a moment, savoring the accomplishment, then added with pride, “And now, it is complete!”

Saint Raphael felt as if she had completed the most important ritual of her life, a very important promise she had made. She then took puppet Oran back to the top of the white tower.

She began to channel the mortals’ storage desires, shaping them into the Light of Wishes she required.

“Come forth!” she called out. “My Light of Wishes!”

Beams of light shot out from the compartments inside the white tower and then converged toward the sky.

The light fell like a rain of fire, landing throughout the Storage Spirit Realm and falling into the white tower’s interior.

Storage Spirits transformed into points of light that shot out from within the white tower. They bathed in these lights and began a new transformation.

Under the influence of the Light of Wishes, the shadowy forms of these Storage Spirits became completely solid.

The outlines and silhouettes of these Storage Spirits appeared, one after another.

They had the appearance of snake people and wore clothes of similar styles.

But they could help Saint Raphael do many things, provided they were willing.

The puppet gazed at the familiar figures, its body trembling slightly. Though it preferred to remain still, something deep within stirred, compelling it to rise from the wheelchair.

“What is this?” it murmured, its voice unsteady.

The gem-like eyes of puppet Oran began to shine, their light growing brighter with each passing moment. Its metal face remained unmoving, yet its voice carried a raw, unmistakable emotion.

These people had once all belonged to a certain faction. Among them were elderly, middle-aged, and young people.

Although these Storage Spirits sometimes appeared lucid and sometimes not, they existed because they were attached to this spirit realm. They remembered some of the past but more often seemed to be sleepwalking.

Puppet Oran wandered forward in a daze, approaching those Storage Spirits.

The Storage Spirits turned around one by one. The first began to call puppet Oran’s name.

“Oran!”

Then came a second voice, and a third.

“Oran!”

“Oran!”

They had finally escaped from eternal darkness and chaos. Though only shadows of them remained, at least they were no longer imprisoned in pain.

The supernatural was like a double-edged sword. It granted power beyond the ordinary, but the consequences of misusing it were terrifying.

It granted consciousness and wisdom but could also imprison that consciousness and wisdom in darkness forever.

Perhaps this was why the Creator made the Dream Starry Sea.

As Oran watched, its gaze dropped to the ground.

It could not bring itself to look any longer.

“Everyone’s back,” it whispered, its voice shaking with emotion.

The repeated calls of “Oran” echoed around it, each one striking a chord deep within. Overwhelmed, Oran sank to its knees.

Its hands clenched into fists as it pounded the ground in anguish before it clutched its head, unable to contain the flood of emotions.

Saint Raphael did not understand why the puppet would act this way, nor did she understand the emotions stirring within it.

At this moment, the guardian Old Tut, who had been collecting petals under the rainbow tree, suddenly sensed something.

He rushed up from the foot of the mountain and quickly reached the tower’s top.

Then, he froze completely.

Old guardian Tut suddenly remembered the past. He had once been the most talented student of the Tower Spirit School.

Decades ago, he and Oran were both students of the master, studying under the Tower Spirit School’s chief.

At that time, the Tower Spirit School had many masters and students. The entire City of Gold was theirs. People of the Tower Spirit School believed they were at the forefront of alchemy and that their philosophy could change the world.

“Traditional family alchemists are conservative and foolish. Only schools can create the future,” they had once said.

“The mystery of Tower Spirits is the ultimate mystery for alchemists: creating a Tower Spirit with wisdom.”

“Finding where the wisdom of life comes from.”

“Finding all the answers, that is what it means to be an alchemist.”

Old Tut could still remember the visionary words spoken by those who stood before him. Each phrase carried the potential to shape the era and transform the world.

Until one day, everyone began to question the mystery of Tower Spirits.

Batch after batch of people left the Tower Spirit School, some even fighting among themselves.

Finally, the master decided to initiate that experiment.

However, so many had failed before, and this time was no miracle. In fact, the consequences were even more terrible.

Not only was the master corrupted by madness, becoming a terrible artifact.

Everyone, all of them, went mad.

In the end, it was Oran who merged with Elena’s Heart, killing the mad master along with all the other Tower Spirit School members.

But even so, even like this, nothing could end. Everyone transformed into evil spirits imprisoned within this white tower. The once sacred and majestic tower had become a terrifying prison.

Old Tut looked at the figures before him. This time, he did not cry or feel sad.

Instead, he gradually smiled.

“Everyone’s back,” he said. “Everyone has returned.”

He moved along the edge of the tower top, touching each shadow, calling their names.

He came before the kneeling puppet, before Oran, who knelt trembling, head buried, afraid to look up.

Old Tut stared at Oran for a long time.

Finally, he let out a long sigh.

He extended his hand to help Oran up, raising this friend who, like himself, had lost everything, even his body.

Oran lowered his head and asked Old Tut, “Do you hate me?”

“Hate me for killing them?”

Old Tut’s aged face showed an expression of fatigue. “I do not hate you for killing them,” he said. “At that time, they were no longer themselves. I only hate that you did not join me in stopping the master back then.”

“I actually hate myself too. If only I had been more determined back then.”

“But who could have known it would turn out like this?”

Old Tut shook his head repeatedly, his expression becoming pained and sorrowful. “We were like gamblers,” he said, “always thinking we would succeed the next time.”

“But we never truly considered that we might face the most terrible failure.”

Puppet Oran kept its head lowered, unable to meet the gazes of those around it.

“What about the master?” it asked hesitantly.

Old Tut shook his head. “He is not here,” he replied softly.

Puppet Oran immediately understood that the master must have chosen to enter the Dream Realm.

In an instant, the puppet’s body slumped significantly.

Puppet Oran opened its mouth, then closed it again, speaking in a voice so small it was barely audible. “Will he pass the Creator’s judgment?”

But Old Tut repeated what Saint Raphael had said before: “Let the Creator be the one to judge all sin and evil.”

Old guardian Tut looked around at his surroundings, at this white tower.

This place had been his lifelong obsession, the one that had imprisoned him his entire life.

“Oran!” he called out, his voice steady and filled with emotion. “This place is no longer a prison.”

“It is the white tower now.”

Finally, his gaze shifted to Saint Raphael, his expression softening.

“Lady Saint Raphael,” he said with heartfelt gratitude, “you have saved them… and you have saved us too.”

Puppet Oran raised its head to look at Old Tut. Old Tut looked completely different from before, no longer bitter and vengeful, no longer entangled in the past.

It was as if a knot in Old Tut’s heart had finally come undone.

Saint Raphael looked at the two of them. Although she could not understand their emotions, she spoke according to her own thoughts.

She thrust out her chest, looking very proud.

“Do not be afraid,” she said. “From now on, you will all live in my spirit realm. I will protect you.”

Old Tut laughed immediately. Anyone who did not know better might think the figure before them was not a nymph, but some underground force’s big sister from the City of Lights.

One by one, the Storage Spirits gradually returned to their places, settling into various corners of the Storage Spirit Realm.

This spirit realm began to grow lively. One could talk with these Storage Spirits wherever one went.

Although they were sometimes lucid and sometimes confused, and often repeated themselves when speaking.

But occasionally, they could provide some unexpected reminders.

At night, Saint Raphael wrote letters to her friends in the Creator’s Domain, telling them about everything happening in the mortal world.

There were nymphs, spirits, and deities.

She specially created a storage space for Dream Sovereign Hila, placing inside the ring Hila had entrusted to her for safekeeping.

“I have set aside one for God Yinsai as well,” she wrote. “I cannot wait to do something meaningful for the supreme God Yinsai.”

“Even though I no longer deliver messages for the gods, I can still store things for them.”

“And of course,” she added with a mental smile as she wrote, “I have reserved one for the Life Sovereign too.”

But as she wrote this name, she always recalled the scene of being caught by the Life Sovereign.

At that time, Life Sovereign Shelly had seen her crawling in and out of tree hollows and had tried to crawl into the rainbow tree hollow herself.

Fortunately, Lady Hila had persuaded her to stop.

So she wrote below: “Because the Life Sovereign’s presence is too majestic and powerful, the weak and pitiful Saint Raphael dares not disturb Her presumptively. If Lady Hila sees the Life Sovereign, please convey this to Her for me!”

Creator’s Domain.

Light flashed in the rainbow tree hollow outside the Pyramid Temple’s window. A beam of starlight rose, shooting toward the interior of the temple.

Soon after, a spotlessly white hand grasped the object within the starlight.

Hila received a letter from Saint Raphael. It was filled with tales of her recent adventures and the peculiar events unfolding around her. The letter carried the same whimsical charm and curious expressions that Saint Raphael was known for, making Hila smile as she read through the lively recounting of her experiences.

Dream Sovereign Hila read on and could not help but laugh.

Creator God Yinsai appeared in the temple at some point, just in time to see Hila covering her mouth and laughing.

“Is that a letter from that nymph whose eyes glow?” he asked.

Hila nodded, putting down the letter in her hand. “Yes, God. You remember her?”

Yin Shen nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I remember her,” he said to Hila.

“Young ones often believe they can hold onto everything they desire, as if the world is theirs to keep,” he added with a quiet smile.

“Although she is a wood nymph, as a living being she naturally possesses desire. This has nothing to do with good or evil.”

“But there are many things in this world that cannot all be obtained, and some things one must learn to let go of.”

Hila stepped closer, her eyes meeting Yin Shen’s. “She is still young,” she said softly. “But one day, she will understand.”

“Isn’t that what life is about? Growing, learning, becoming more than we were yesterday.”

She paused, a faint smile touching her lips. “I used to be just like her once. A little girl who would hide in a corner and cry whenever I made a mistake.”

Yin Shen nodded thoughtfully, his gaze distant. “Indeed,” he said softly, as if recalling something from long ago.

Though he had not read the letter, it was clear he already knew its contents. In this world, few things seemed to escape His notice.

“Since she gave me a storage compartment, I should put something in it!” he said.

Hila’s face showed surprise. She was also very curious about what Yin Shen would put in the Storage Spirit Realm.

Then, she saw Yin Shen break off a branch from the rainbow tree outside the window. Light flowed, and the branch transformed into a small wooden mallet.

The Dream Sovereign looked at this object, her head full of question marks. She looked at Yin Shen, hoping for an explanation.

But Yin Shen showed no intention of explaining, so she had to ask, “Why a wooden mallet?” Her curiosity was evident.

Yin Shen smiled faintly. “Because it feels fitting,” he said.

Hila tilted her head, pressing further. “Fitting for what?”

Yin Shen’s gaze lingered on the mallet for a moment before he replied, “It feels fitting as a reminder, or perhaps as a gentle correction.”

Yin Shen did not explain further, a slight curve appearing on his face.

In the wastelands north of the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents.

Mysterious stories circulated here, legends of the ancient Avel people.

But after so many years, those who had witnessed the existence of the Avel City-State had passed away, and the legends remained just legends.

Recently, there were rumors that a group of strange people, possessing mysterious powers, had appeared in the wastelands.

In the heart of the wastelands, a hidden group devoted to the God of Knowledge and Truth gathered for a grand ritual.

Their sanctuary was a sprawling underground palace, shrouded in mystery and darkness.

At the center of this secretive organization, known as the Wasteland Witch Spirits, stood their leader, Sukob the Assassin. His voice was steady as he prayed to the deity.

“God who holds Truth, Ruler of Books and Knowledge, Eternal Cycling Asai,” he declared.

“Your favored one and servant Sukob is requesting Your attention, ready to hear Your oracle at any time.”

As the ritual commenced, with incantations and repetitions of the deity’s name, an indescribable feeling descended upon this place.

Everyone was pressed down by that powerful pressure, unable to raise their heads. They even felt their powers and Books of the Witch Spirit stirring.

Everyone understood that the deity was watching this place.

Only then did Sukob continue his prayer to the deity. “God of Knowledge and Truth.”

“Not long ago,” he said, his voice steady and reverent, “a messenger from the Creator’s Domain descended to the mortal world. This messenger delivered the Creator’s divine oracle and spread blessings across the Land of Sunrise.”

With these words, the gaze observing the mortal realm completely changed, expanding countless times. Everyone’s consciousness froze.

A majestic giant door slowly opened, and the shadow of the deity appeared within it.

Numerous ghosts appeared on the steps on both sides, their gazes all focused on the mortal followers.

This scene drove followers who were seeing the deity and the Door of Truth for the first time into a frenzy. For believers, there was nothing more sacred and glorious than this.

The deity addressed Sukob directly, his voice resonating with authority.

“Sukob,” he said, “you must go and meet the messenger from the Creator’s Domain who carries the will of Yinsai God.”

As the words faded, the Door of Truth began to close slowly.

The Wasteland Witch Spirits, concealed deep within the wastelands, prepared to embark on their journey toward the Land of Sunrise.