Tang Qi also hurriedly looked up toward the top of the pillar, discovering that the glass panel embedded in the stone column was slowly shifting with a “click-clack” as he turned the handle, moving the gears and bearings.

Its range of movement wasn’t generous—it rotated around the stone pillar.

But the knob on the handle could adjust the length of the bracket supporting the glass, as well as flip the mirror surface up and down.

He realized that these glass mirrors were the key to solving the puzzle:

“We need to adjust all four glass panels to properly discern their specific functions.”

Saying this, he was about to move toward the other four stone pillars.

But the instant he released the handle, the gears began turning on their own again, and the glass panel he’d just raised started rotating back to its original position.

He quickly grabbed the handle again to stop the glass from rotating back, and looked toward the other four:

“Everyone go to a pillar and turn the mechanism like I did.”

They all nodded and followed Tang Qi’s example, pushing open the hidden compartments on the stone pillars and turning the handles—

Only Stonecrusher cursed loudly:

“Cut off his goat beard! No wonder someone smashed that statue. If it were me, I’d do the same damn thing—this is clearly discrimination against our race!”

“What’s going on?”

Tang Qi looked at Stonecrusher in confusion, only to find the dwarf standing on his tiptoes by the stone pillar, stretching his arms upward but unable to reach the hidden compartment above his head no matter what:

“It’s all because of your damn mouth! Ever since I met you, I’ve suffered more insults than in the previous two hundred years combined!”

“Aren’t you being a bit oversensitive? This is human territory—how could you possibly find mechanisms convenient for dwarves?”

Though he said this, Tang Qi still couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Even little Anbi could reach it.

He called out:

“Kuru, climb on his back!”

The kobold quickly used Stonecrusher’s broad back to seat himself steadily on the dwarf’s shoulders.

Two shorties stacked together just happened to be able to reach the hidden compartment on the stone pillar.

After a round of “click-clack” gear-turning sounds ended, Tang Qi looked up at the ceiling again and finally understood the purpose of these glass panels:

“It’s light?”

“What do you mean?”

Stonecrusher asked in confusion.

Though he understood architecture, he didn’t understand mechanisms.

That was something idle halflings would be enthusiastic about.

Tang Qi pointed at the scattered glass shards in the ruins and the moonlight streaming through the ceiling, explaining:

“Look at these transparent glass panels on the stone pillars—their heights are staggered, which means they were originally meant to be stacked together.

And this temple’s location is the only open space where skylight can penetrate, just like now—the moonlight can still pass through the glass in the ceiling and fall upon the ruins.

So the answer is quite obvious…”

“Glass, refraction!”

Kuru was the first to catch on.

“Exactly.”

The glass mirror Tang Qi controlled happened to be stacked at the very top.

So he continuously adjusted the angle of the mirror and the length of the bracket, finally finding a suitable position on that collapsed ceiling.

Moonlight passed through the covering vines and fell upon that circular glass panel.

The originally dispersed moonlight—whether due to magical effects or something else—actually had a beam converge at the center of the mirror, transforming into a cold, clear ray of light that pierced through the temple’s dimness.

“So where do we need to refract the moonlight to?” Catherine suddenly asked.

Tang Qi paused, beginning to analyze the angle of the mirror and where it should land.

This time it was Stonecrusher who, relying on his judgment of architectural structures, confirmed the target first:

“That statue!”

That was indeed the position where moonlight could most easily be refracted.

Tang Qi nodded and called out:

“Let’s try it first!”

They worked together, continuously adjusting the angles of the mirrors, concentrating so intently that even the sound of gears beside their ears was cast aside.

Fortunately, the bright moon in the sky shifted slowly. After more than ten minutes of adjustment, that converged beam of moonlight landed precisely at the end of the temple, on that broken stone statue—

To be precise, on the ‘Dawn’ inscription at its feet.

With a “click,” Tang Qi felt the mechanism lock in place, so they no longer had to worry about the mirrors rotating back.

But the expected secret passage or hidden door didn’t open.

Instead, elegant inscriptions successively appeared on the stone pillars beside them, radiating sacred, brilliant light under the moonlit night.

Tang Qi looked at the inscription on the pillar before him and read softly:

“Actions speak louder than words.”

Catherine immediately followed, telling him:

“Fear no challenge.”

“Temper the body.”

“Steel the soul.”

“What is this?”

Tang Qi blinked, not understanding the meaning behind these words.

“Is it some deity’s parable? Or perhaps some doctrine or creed?”

“Praise me.”

A subtle yet calm female voice suddenly reached his ears.

“Catherine, what did you say?”

Tang Qi instinctively looked toward the only adult woman present.

Catherine blinked, somewhat puzzled:

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Praise me.”

The voice echoed in Tang Qi’s ears again. This time he finally heard the words clearly:

“Don’t you all hear a voice?”

“What did you hear?”

Everyone looked at him in unison, appearing completely oblivious—not like they were acting.

“Praise me.”

Tang Qi was surprised and confused for a moment. Without answering them, he quickly followed the source of the voice with his gaze, which finally landed before that shattered statue.

“Praise me.”

He approached, discovering the echo in his ears growing ever closer—

It was ethereal and distant.

Like a call transmitted back from the far end of an empty valley, traveling through long ages.

“Praise me.”

Tang Qi scratched his head and experimentally spread his arms, pretending to be entranced as he praised:

“Ah—deity of ‘Dawn,’ you are so radiant, guiding the direction of our advance!”

“Praise me.”

It didn’t seem to have any effect.

Tang Qi stroked his chin, somewhat puzzled:

“Hiss… Is my praise not sincere enough, or did I not praise in the right direction? Or do I need both?

But I don’t even know her—how can I praise appropriately?

Wait—”

While pondering, he suddenly turned back to look at the inscriptions revealed on those four stone pillars…

“Praise me.”

Tang Qi finally understood. He slapped his forehead and immediately stepped back two paces.

Then, his right hand lightly touched his chest as he bowed toward the statue and the word ‘Dawn’:

“Before your lips part with thunder’s voice, Dawn’s blade has already bloomed with morning light.”

【Actions speak louder than words】.

“Though the path ahead is strewn with wailing filth, hatred and specters cannot block the fearless.”

【Fear no challenge】.

“Scars and merits forge bone and spine, blazing blood irrigates lungs of steel.”

【Temper the body】.

“Hellfire cannot grind down willpower’s radiance, supreme glory accompanies the divine soul eternally.”

【Steel the soul】.

When Tang Qi finished reciting the final verse of praise, he instantly felt his surroundings become utterly silent.

Yet before his eyes, everything was so dark—

He felt as though he’d lost his physical body.

Only his soul floated upward, as if placed within the vast cosmos…

“Poet.”

In his ears, no longer was it that ancient and distant call.

The ‘goddess’s’ calm summons drifted lightly from behind him.

He turned to look.

But only saw a…

Phantom of a soul?

“Who are you?”

Tang Qi asked hesitantly.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep