Chapter 1512: The Ancient God’s Invitation

Within the entire system concerning the church, its followers, the gods, and the authority to interpret the sacred texts, Gawain had developed his own convenient and pragmatic logic. It might not align perfectly with the habits of traditional clergy or the interpretations found in church doctrine, but there was no doubt it better reflected the actual workings of the world and the current state of mortal society.

At the same time, he wielded the highest authority—the ultimate interpretive power over every action of the Divine Council. In practical terms, this meant he held the power to determine whether any church within the realm qualified as “true faith.”

The ideological reform of the Divine Council was a gradual process. Gawain couldn’t simply, as he had once done with the Raven Plateau, obliterate all the traditional churches at home. Nor could he forcibly reshape the collective mindset with guns and cannons. In this slow, guiding process, he inevitably had to preserve some of the more conservative clergy—those who, while somewhat old-fashioned, were still open to reform and willing to support the Empire’s new policies. When managing these more traditional priests, his supreme interpretive authority over matters of faith was the most effective tool.

Of course, not everyone was pleased with his “true faith regulation” efforts. Some opponents secretly cursed him, convinced that this iron-fisted ruler’s audacity in the sacred realm would eventually backfire—that sooner or later, divine retribution would come for him. Even some of his supporters harbored such fears, genuinely worried that the emperor’s bold moves might provoke a rift between himself and the gods.

But Gawain himself never worried about such risks.

He possessed more advanced theoretical knowledge than the old clergy, and he understood a truth closer to reality than any sacred scripture. Like the heretic of a thousand years ago, this “unorthodox mortal monarch” knew their Lord better than the bishops who had spent their lives poring over cathedral tomes. So whenever he took bold actions, he did so with absolute confidence: the Lord didn’t care.

Not only did the Lord not care, He might even want to come down Himself and burn the cathedral to the ground.

“Right now, we can’t be certain whether the gods will respond, or which ones might,” Gawain said thoughtfully after making some arrangements. “In fact, it’s still unknown whether Lady of the Night has even contacted Them. But if She has taken action, it’s almost certainly aimed at breaking the ‘chains of faith.’ That fits Her role as the Voyager’s servant and aligns with the current state of the mortal world and the gods. If those chains are truly weakened, our chances of receiving a response are very high…”

Amber listened intently to Gawain’s analysis, then suddenly spoke up with a feeling: “I always think the key in this process is the tacit understanding between gods and mortals… Both sides can only do so much, can only transmit limited information. Sometimes no information at all—just a glance, and then the other side has to infer everything.”

“Exactly. The crucial point is that gods and mortals must cooperate seamlessly,” Gawain nodded, then shook his head with a wry smile. “But the irony is right there. Mortals have worshiped the gods for hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands of years. Yet it’s precisely this faith that blocks true understanding and harmony between them. Those priests who strictly follow the scriptures? You could beat them to death and they still wouldn’t know how to coordinate with their gods. Their gods just throw out ten thousand glances to the mortal world, and the faithful can only interpret ten thousand and one meaningless oracles. Their Lord is almost torn apart on the throne by faith itself, while the worshipers below keep praying with all their might…”

“In the end, it’s someone like you—who neither believes in nor reveres the gods—who understands Them best,” Amber said with a teasing smile. “You even get Them from the heart.”

“That’s not quite right,” Gawain raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe in the gods, but I trust Them. I don’t fear Them, but I respect Them. Though I once saw Them as enemies, even the greatest threat to the world, that doesn’t stop me from now considering Them my best allies. At least before they go mad, these gods are far more sincere and reliable than any mortal kingdom.”

“Alright, alright, your greatest strength is your ‘pragmatism,’” Amber waved a hand and casually asked, “Besides setting up anti-divine barriers in churches and trying to ‘talk’ directly with the gods, is there anything else?”

Gawain stroked his chin, pondering. After a moment, he shook his head gently. “For now, that’s as far as we go. We’re not sure if our assumptions hold, nor if the gods’ current state can handle further ‘contact.’ Reckless attempts might push some unstable gods past their breaking point…”

He paused, as if suddenly recalling something. “Ah, there is one thing—upgrade the anti-divine barriers in the Shadow Court as well. To the highest standard, full coverage of the entire courtyard.”

“Shadow Court…” Amber guessed his meaning. “You think Amon might receive further ‘contact’ from the Three Fertility Goddesses?”

“After all, the ‘invasive plants’ Amon found in the courtyard were very likely left by the three goddesses,” Gawain nodded. “Maybe their situation is better than other gods’. Since that channel already exists, I don’t mind placing a bigger bet.”

Amber immediately nodded. “Understood. I’ll arrange it right away.”

After confirming he hadn’t missed anything, Gawain exhaled and let his rapidly working mind cool down a bit. Then his gaze involuntarily fixed on Amber for a long time without looking away. Amber, of course, noticed the unusual stare and instinctively twisted her neck. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Gawain stared for several more seconds before speaking with some concern, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Amber blinked, then slowly smiled. “Actually, I’m kind of used to it now—the sudden strange dreams, the ‘contact’ with the Lady of the Night, the odd things that sometimes appear nearby… None of it really affects my life. On the contrary, some of it has even come in handy. So I don’t think there’s much to worry about. We’ll just take it one step at a time—at worst, when I get the chance to meet the Lady of the Night, I’ll ask Her what She’s really up to…”

Seeing Amber’s calm and carefree attitude, Gawain’s worries lingered but he couldn’t help but smile. “You’re always so easygoing. Too bad it’s not so easy to find the Lady of the Night. She’s an ancient god, after all. I doubt She’d just send us an invitation to visit Her…”

No sooner had he finished speaking than footsteps suddenly echoed from the corridor, followed by Hetty’s voice and a knock at the door. “Ancestor, may I come in? There’s news from the North.”

Gawain paused, a strange feeling suddenly stirring inside him. Without analyzing whether it was some legendary warrior’s intuition, he replied, “Come in.”

The study door opened, and Hetty stepped inside. Her eyes immediately landed on Amber, who was standing by the old patriarch’s desk. She was used to this by now and nodded in greeting before hurrying over to Gawain. “Ancestor, Grant Chancellor Victoria has sent intelligence. The squad that landed on Violet Island to investigate has made astonishing progress.”

That strange intuition inside Gawain grew restless. He adjusted his posture and fixed his gaze on Hetty. “Astonishing progress? What did Modril’s squad find on the island?”

“They encountered… ‘people,’” Hetty said, pausing and glancing at Amber, who looked puzzled. “First, a mysterious girl named ‘Morningstar.’ She claims to be an agent of Military Intelligence, and…”

For the next several minutes, Hetty reported all the intelligence from the North. She kept her emotions in check and her words precise, but every sentence contained staggering revelations that made Gawain and Amber’s eyes widen: a mysterious girl claiming to be from Military Intelligence’s Shadow Affairs Division; the monument cluster left behind after the Violet Kingdom’s disappearance; a still-functioning magical intelligence system; and most importantly, the most shocking of all—an invitation from the Lady of the Night, from the City of a Thousand Towers.

Gawain nearly lost his composure as the patriarch—if the space behind the desk had allowed, he might have jumped up on the spot.

“That’s all the intelligence,” Hetty said, stepping back half a pace. She clearly understood how earth-shattering this information was, having been stunned herself moments ago. “The authenticity of the identities ‘Morningstar’ and ‘Benedetto’ cannot yet be verified, but their existence is certain. The core of Violet Island clearly hides a great secret. Modril’s exploration team has set out again, heading deeper into the island’s interior. Any discoveries will be reported immediately.”

Gawain stared for several seconds without moving. It wasn’t until Amber muttered “Holy hell” under her breath that he snapped out of it and mumbled, “What did I say earlier? There really is an invitation…”

Hetty looked confused. “Ancestor, what did you say?”

“Nothing,” Gawain waved it off and turned to Amber, catching her wide-eyed, astonished gaze. “Let me just confirm—Military Intelligence really doesn’t have a Shadow Affairs Division, right?”

“Of course not,” Amber replied immediately. “Every department in Military Intelligence was personally approved by you. And forget about a Shadow Affairs Division—I’ve never even heard of ‘Morningstar.’ I can’t claim to know every agent’s name, but for an elite ‘senior agent,’ I’d definitely remember. Besides, Hetty specifically emphasized how strange this ‘Morningstar’ is.”

“Right, we don’t have a Shadow Affairs Division,” Gawain said, calming down as his thoughts cleared from the earlier shock. “At least not now, at least not within what we know…”

Amber suddenly sensed there was more to his words. “Why do you say that? Are you thinking of something?”

Gawain’s mind raced, bold ideas beginning to take shape. “Have you forgotten? We do have a group of Military Intelligence agents who lost contact on Violet Island…”

Amber was stunned, then suddenly realized. “You mean Silver-Eyed Corrod and the others? But they…”

“I know. So this is just a guess,” Gawain shook his head gently. “After all, the clues we had before suggested those agents who disappeared during the Violet Mist incident didn’t die—they survived in the Lady of the Night’s realm… And those agents were all elite operatives you personally trained, weren’t they?”

Amber stood there motionless, her expression shifting several times as if a thousand thoughts raced through her mind in just a few seconds. Then, almost whispering to herself, she murmured, “…If contact with the higher organization is lost, the remaining personnel must immediately form a temporary unit on-site and rebuild the command system. If the team is split and surrounded, they should simultaneously work on reestablishing command while actively organizing self-rescue and mutual aid… Use every available resource, unite all possible forces, and do everything to ensure personnel survival and preserve organizational functions… Under no circumstances should anyone wait passively to die or abandon their mission. Maintain loyalty, keep secrets, and await support…”

She furrowed her brow and looked up at Gawain, catching his calm gaze meeting hers.

“You should trust that they can do it,” Gawain said in a low voice.

“Of course I believe that Corrod and the other agents who disappeared with him back then can manage,” Amber nodded instinctively, but then hesitated. “But according to the intel Wilde leaked, Silver-Eyed Corrod and the others have been… gone for a hundred years already.”

“Let’s hold onto that bold guess for now,” Gawain said seriously. “Because aside from that theory, we have no other clue to explain the origin of that girl called ‘Morningstar.’ There’s another important question: the invitation. It clearly came from Lady Night, inviting us to the Thousand-Tower City that’s supposed to have vanished. Honestly, that caught me off guard.”

Amber blinked, trying to shake off the previous topic, and looked into Gawain’s eyes. “You just said Lady Night wouldn’t send us a message inviting us to her home…”

“Yeah, no sane logic would expect that,” Gawain said irritably, waving his hand. Then he gave Amber a strange look. “But on the other hand, that girl Morningstar mentioned an ‘outstanding guardian’ in the message. Is that really you?”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?” Amber’s eyes narrowed immediately at Gawain’s doubtful tone. “Who else could the ‘outstanding guardian’ be besides me? You think it’s those two dogs in the yard?”

Gawain thought about it. He almost said those two dogs in the yard are sometimes more reliable than her, but realizing that might make Amber lose it and go fight the dogs, he swallowed the words and instead put on a serious face. “I’m mostly worried about a misunderstanding—bringing the wrong person along when we go.”

“That suspicion is ridiculous. It’s obviously referring to…” Amber started, then stopped mid-sentence as realization hit her. “Wait, you’re actually planning to go?”

Gawain shrugged. “Go? Why not? Last time the Dragon God invited me, I didn’t hesitate. They’re all ancient gods, after all.”

Amber’s eyes flicked sideways. “Honestly, that comparison isn’t very lucky. Last time you went to Tal’Rond, look at what that place’s like now…”

Gawain: “…”

(End of chapter)