If the Unal Black Wolf is really preparing the ritual for the “Mystery Pryer,” then His whereabouts aren’t entirely untraceable… Klein slowly nodded. A few vague ideas had taken shape in his mind, but nothing he could fully put together yet.
He instinctively wanted to use the earth contaminated by that “Curtain” to directly divine the item’s location and thereby pinpoint where the Unal Black Wolf was currently hiding. But considering that his opponent was an Angel, this method would most likely startle Him, make Him vigilant, and cause Him to take countermeasures. Klein rationally abandoned the idea, returned to the real world, and racked his brains over the planning of the whole matter.
The next day, as the lightning strikes grew more frequent, another batch of
After the Moon City residents had received baptism one by one, their faces streaming with tears, Klein looked around and asked, as if offhandedly:
“Did the Sun God order you to guard this place and watch for anyone coming out of the mist?”
“Yes.” Duke, whose general swelling had been cured, knew that the High Priest had already mentioned this matter to the divine emissary before him, so he answered quite frankly.
Klein gave a slight nod and followed up on the topic:
“What would you actually do if someone did come out of the mist?”
Without any hesitation, Duke answered bluntly:
“Immediately recite the great Sun God’s honorific name and… report the matter to Him…”
As he spoke, his tone grew very low, and toward the end he couldn’t even finish the sentence, because that Sun God, the Creator, hadn’t responded for over two thousand years. Even though Moon City held the most complete rituals over and over and endlessly recited His honorific name, they never received any feedback.
“What else besides that?” Klein pressed keenly.
This was both a prompting from his spiritual intuition and, to a certain extent, the result of reasoning. Clearly, the
Faced with this situation, the Ancient Sun God should have made some arrangement.
Of course, that wasn’t absolute. If
However, considering that this same Ancient Sun God, the Creator of the City of Silver, had even wrongly predicted which specific spot He himself would emerge from the grayish-white mist, Klein was skeptical about the possibility above.
Duke thought it over, hesitated, and said:
“Welcome that person and tell him a single word.”
Klein’s spirits lifted at once, but he asked with a composed face:
“What word?”
Duke moved his lips a few times, as if simulating the pronunciation, and then, in a strange tone, he said:
“
…Klein’s mind froze for a second, and then he let out a silent sigh.
…
Farmers from nearby villages had gathered here to pick the peculiar mushrooms that grew on tree roots, on rotting wood, and among the underbrush.
According to the kingdom’s laws, this woodland and everything that grew within it belonged to its owner, Miss
They split into teams and worked efficiently, dividing the mushrooms, covered with golden sparkles or marbled with fat, into two piles: a small portion to keep for themselves and a large portion to sell to the grain merchants waiting outside the woodland, in exchange for pounds to buy salt, cloth, and other necessities.
The farmers didn’t go too far. Apart from the mushrooms, they took only some of the fruit from the trees, leaving the woodland keepers enough to turn in as their share.
In just two or three hours, the farmers sold off most of the mushrooms and fruit, tucked away their pounds, shouldered their rations, and headed back to their villages with broad smiles.
For them, everything that happened today was what they had wanted to do, and they had achieved their goal.
The bearded grain merchant was equally pleased. This was an unexpected windfall that, given the current situation, would earn him a very tidy sum.
He and his workers hauled the bulk of the mushrooms and fruit to a processing point outside town, handled them accordingly, and then stored everything in the warehouse.
Being a meticulous businessman, he sent the workers off, checked the warehouse himself, and only after confirming that everything was in order did he personally close and lock the door.
Just then, he noticed a thick stack of cash on the floor — all 10-pound notes.
“When did I drop so much money?” The grain merchant, counting his lucky stars, bent down and picked up the stack.
While counting the notes, he suddenly remembered where the money had come from:
It was the proceeds from selling that mushroom powder, dried mushrooms, and candied fruit he had just bought!
“What a haul!” the bearded merchant said contentedly, letting out a satisfied sigh before turning and leaving the warehouse.