Chapter 8: Southern Line (1)
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“Lord Lin!
That damned Morris just kneeled before the Emperor in front of all the court officials, claiming to be the son of the God of Light!”
Trissa stormed into the Harpist Academy, her face flushed with fury after hearing the news from Monroe. If she hadn’t seen Lin Nan chatting away with Dean Janet, she might have exploded right there.
“Take a breath. What happened?” Lin Nan asked.
Trissa took a deep breath and spilled the tea about the court drama in full.
Janet crossed her arms tightly, her chest creating quite the deep chasm. “It seems the Church of Light’s expansion cannot be stopped now. Just the other day, I reported to the Lord Messenger that the Pope of the Church is actually His Majesty himself. And suddenly, he’s the son of a god… If the cultists believe this, our divine sects won’t stand a chance!”
Janet then sighed with a wry smile, “With a divine messenger to back him up, the title of ‘Son of God’ is as solid as a rock.”
Lin Nan nodded, “That’s true. With both the ‘Son of God’ and the Messenger of Light promoting him, we’ve already lost the battle for believers.”
Trissa huffed, “It’s all Morris’s fault! How did we not see this coming? We worked so hard to clear his name, and what does he do? As soon as he’s out of the clink, he pulls this stunt. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you!”
“Let’s not be too harsh. Morris probably has his own reasons,” Lin Nan said, trying to soothe her. “After all, we didn’t foresee that his identity as a messenger would be solidified by the Emperor.”
Hearing this, Trissa had to swallow her anger, making an effort to calm herself down.
She suddenly remembered that Lord Lin came to the Empire under the guise of a messenger, not to gather new followers of the Goddess of Destiny. If it weren’t for the sheer oppression the Goddess’s followers faced from the Church of Light, even the Temple of Destiny was nearly handed over on a silver platter. It’s likely Lord Lin never would have revealed his identity so easily.
In the family basement, Trissa had once analyzed with her father Monroe the encounters their ancestors had near the Sky Tower. The nobles bearing the White Wolf and Green Leaf coat of arms never appeared during Trissa’s journey.
So they had reason to believe that those who once challenged the Sky Tower alongside the Four Warriors—the White Wolf and Green Leaf clan—must have quietly returned to the Imperial Capital at some point.
On the surface, the Imperial Capital was mired in a sect conflict, and as things progressed—with the royal family’s intentional support—the situation would only get messier.
Yet, what was strange was that Trissa didn’t sense any impatience from Lord Lin. It was as if everything was under his control. Even Morris’s betrayal didn’t disturb her composure one bit.
This meant that Lord Lin’s plans were surely grander than she could grasp.
Perhaps, as a messenger of the Goddess of Destiny, even the White Wolf and Green Leaf clan—who had become undead after perishing in battle—obediently followed her. No matter how tumultuous the Imperial Capital is right now, they’d deliver the d*ath blow to the enemies at the most critical moment.
If this theory is correct, it indicates that the Goddess of Destiny once granted the Four Warriors extraordinary powers. But after thousands of years, she’s become dissatisfied with the empire ruled by the bloodline of Valentine, one of the Four Warriors. Perhaps they had made some promise back then that has yet to be fulfilled.
Therefore, the Goddess has decided to reinstate the White Wolf and Green Leaf clan.
In other words… the existing Valentine royal family will face elimination by the messengers, and two years from now, the Empire’s downfall would be nothing more than the consequences of the royal family’s own misdeeds—a divine punishment from the heavens.
At this thought, Trissa felt a chill run down her spine.
The more she thought about it, the more it all made sense; she couldn’t find any flaws in her theory.
Her father Monroe and she had originally anticipated that the arrival of the messenger would cause a storm of bloodshed, but now it seemed this upheaval concerning the entire Empire was just in its early stages. Ultimately, the citizens of the Imperial Capital would become nothing but dreamers trapped in ruins, buried beneath yellow sand—thanks to the Valentine family.
The only way to save the people of the Imperial Capital is to help Lord Lin swiftly deal with the Valentine royal family, rally around him, and reduce the Goddess’s fury.
As for whether the impending disaster two years from now could be avoided, it would likely depend on the wisdom of Lord Lin and the new ruler of the Empire.
She believed that Lord Lin would never abandon them. Just like in the modern Small World beneath the Sky Tower, he would never leave his subordinates feeling cold and alone.
A leader with compassion always upholds her beliefs.
Having spent some time with him already, Trissa had firm faith in this.
Clarity washed over her as she looked at Lin Nan, her gaze resembling that of a Zen disciple enlightened by a sudden realization.
Though she didn’t utter a word, you could feel the surge of strength rising from her very core through her eyes.
“Ding!”
In that moment, Trissa couldn’t help but summon her four-stringed harp, her fingers barely grazing the strings.
A sharp, soaring note echoed through the room.
Janet’s face filled with shock as she listened. “Trissa, you…”
“Ding ding dang dang… ding ding dang dang…”
The music flowed smoothly like a gentle stream, a heavenly sound reminiscent of a soft breeze blowing over a tranquil forest.
It was as if the afternoon croaking of frogs and chirping of cicadas from a pond came alive, rich in natural harmony.
Inside the suite, still covered with thick snow on the roof, it felt like stepping into a warm late spring. With the light breeze brushing over her, Janet was greeted by the mixed fragrance of various flowers.
Suddenly, a vibrant sea of flowers materialized around her—not just a mere illusion; when her fingertip grazed a petal, the genuine sensation left her momentarily dazed.
Just days ago, the Lord Messenger’s rendition of “Nightingale” had plunged everyone present into the dream of the Empire’s apocalypse. Such a miraculous occurrence could only be explained by divine power.
Even she herself couldn’t create illusions to that extent while playing.
Yet, here was Trissa, who had just leveled up to an SS-class Harpist, grasping an almost god-like mastery of music. This transformation was undeniably bewildering.
“Ding dong…”
After the song ended, Trissa approached Lin Nan step by step, slowly kneeling down.
“Thank you, Lord Messenger, for your guidance. If Trissa hadn’t met you, she would probably never achieve the realm of turning the virtual into reality.”
Lin Nan, thinking, “Uh… I feel like I didn’t do anything here…”
“Get up; I didn’t really help you. Even if I did, maybe I just provided a thought. Everything originates from your own hard work.”
Trissa understood in her heart that Lord Lin was never the kind of person to boast about even the slightest contribution. On the contrary, he always encouraged and praised her, igniting her own motivation.
This shows that the Lord Messenger’s generosity is beyond what ordinary people can comprehend.
