Chapter 159: Deceive Him.

Chapter 159: Deceiving the Divine.

Meng Siyou descended the spiral staircase as Wu Suer's gentle voice echoed in his mind.

"The presence hidden in the manor is fixated on burying everything in flames."

"Harvest, fire, and the deaths of many—what comes to mind when these elements converge?"

After a moment of thought, Meng Siyou widened his eyes in astonishment, the answer slipping out:

"A grand-scale occult ritual—or rather, a 'sacrifice'!"

The fire rose like candlelight from the depths of the earth, golden wheat, bountiful fruits, exquisite architecture, and the souls of countless intelligent life forms... All beautiful things would be consumed by the flames, reduced to ashes as an offering to a High Being.

The True God's followers were as numerous as stars, scattered across dimensions, making it rare for the divine to heed the faint prayers of mortals, let alone respond casually.

To Them, the plea or cry of a single individual was like an ant frantically waving its antennae—beneath even a glance.

But if weighed down by the wails of countless souls and fueled by the harvest of an entire duchy...

The scale would be entirely different.

A deity might dismiss the cries of a single life, but if a swarm of dead ants formed a specific symbol or shape beneath Their feet, it would far more likely draw Their attention.

This was precisely why so many extreme zealots reveled in mass slaughter and sacrifice to prove the purity of their faith.

Meng Siyou couldn't help but murmur, "To whom does the master of those 'eyes' intend to sacrifice?"

His first thought was of certain notorious deities who reveled in death and carnage, only to be met with Wu Suer's merciless mockery.

"The people of this land have worshipped the Nature Sculptor for generations, living by Her teachings—on the Sculptor’s own domain, to whom else could this ritual possibly be directed?"

"Put it this way, kid," Wu Suer sneered, "would you dare conduct a grand ritual for another god near the church of a Silent Singer?"

"...No."

Meng Siyou instantly realized just how suicidal such an act would be!

Even a High-level ability user like Fluorescent Sea couldn't withstand the cost of directly provoking a deity and inviting divine retribution.

And judging by this BOSS's current *modus operandi*, Fluorescent Sea preferred operating from the shadows, manipulating the emotions and minor actions of ordinary people to trigger an immeasurable chain reaction that served its goals.

Patient and cautious, it was unlikely to resort to such brazen provocation.

If anything, Meng Siyou even felt that compared to Fluorescent Sea, Wu Suer—currently residing in his mind—seemed more the type to mock and toy with gods, maliciously plucking off Their crowns and stomping on them...

Meng Siyou pressed a fist to his lips, masking his awkward expression as he hesitantly voiced a question:

"But the Nature Sculptor isn’t the kind of deity pleased by bloodshed..."

On the contrary, the teachings of the Natural Hymns Society revered creation, art, and beauty.

A ritual that involved wholesale arson to destroy a Harvest Season celebration, along with countless priceless paintings, sculptures, and other treasures in the ducal manor, bore no aesthetic merit and could never please such a deity.

"Which is why the ultimate goal of this sacrifice isn’t to please Her," Wu Suer replied, his tone laced with icy sharpness. "—It’s to deceive Her."

"She wants to trick the Nature Sculptor into noticing this place and channeling Her power here, thereby achieving her own ends."

"Still, I suspect she has other methods. After all, mere death tolls alone might not suffice to draw divine attention. Given her *modus operandi*, she’d likely have a contingency in place."

"Contingency?"

Meng Siyou repeated slowly, his expression turning pensive.

As he reached the landing between the first and second floors, Wu Suer prompted him to look down.

Perhaps by Fate’s decree, through the gaps in the stair railings, Meng Siyou caught sight of the answer to the riddle he’d been pondering.

...

At the manor’s front entrance, the head maid and the steward stood waiting respectfully as a small carriage rolled to a stop.

Notably, the alabaster steed pulling the carriage was no living creature but a wooden sculpture—every muscle, each pulsing vein carved with lifelike precision, its surface painted evenly white to resemble a spirited, robust stallion.

As the carriage halted, a short, elderly man in white-and-green clerical robes stepped out, the emblem of a crossed chisel and brush embroidered on his chest—the Sigil of the Natural Hymns Society.

His hair and beard were frosted with white, his smile warm and hearty as he waved at the two greeters. "Long time no see, old friends! May the Nature Sculptor’s blessings ever remain upon us—happy Harvest Season!"

With that, he tapped the wooden horse’s back, and in an instant, the entire carriage and steed shrank into a hand-sized statuette, which he tucked casually into his sleeve.

The steward nodded eagerly. "It’s been too long, Archbishop Eric!"

"Indeed. By the divine’s grace, every village in the territory has welcomed another bountiful harvest this year..."

The harvest symbolized nature’s gifts, making the Harvest Season the most sacred festival in the Nature Sculptor’s teachings and the most cherished time of year for the empire’s people.

Traditionally, the celebration would span three grand days—

On the first, revered clergy would preside over the opening ceremony, conferring blessings before the lord delivered a speech summarizing the year’s achievements and plans for the next. The festivities would culminate in united hymns to the Nature Sculptor.

On the second, people would light blazing bonfires of straw, dancing and singing amid the vibrant flames and curling smoke, the fires burning bright well into the night, illuminating the night like day.

On the third, parades, performances, and circus acts would commence...

And of course, the most anticipated draw: all food and drink during the festival were provided freely by the lord to his subjects—a key reason for the season’s universal excitement.

Given the scale of the event, preparations often began over a month in advance, with joyful smiles gracing every face.

If only the tragedies of Mrs. Aisell and Anna hadn’t happened...

At this thought, the steward’s smile faltered slightly, though he maintained a polite demeanor. "Archbishop, we’re grateful for your arduous journey to preside over the festival. Shall we arrange your usual quarters?"

"Whatever you deem fit is fine by me."

Archbishop Eric squinted cheerfully. "How swiftly time passes! It’s already been twenty years since I was reassigned to this blessed land... I’m honored to bless its diligent and faithful people, and may the Iris family eternally bask in the Lord’s radiance."

As the group moved away, Meng Siyou could no longer make out their conversation.

This was when the Book of Fate proved its magnificence—

Not only did it grant Meng Siyou a *quasi-omniscient* "divine perspective," allowing him to eavesdrop on the archbishop’s subsequent words and actions, but it also expounded key details about major figures in a narrative style akin to novelistic interludes.

As if Fate itself were an ageless, eternal playwright, struck by sudden inspiration.

Gilded words unfurled in midair, and Meng Siyou eagerly read on.

「Mention of his "transfer" made Archbishop Eric realize, to his surprise, that he’d made peace with it over time.」

「The afternoon sun, sliced by the corridor pillars, cast shifting patterns on Eric’s eyelids, forcing the white-haired old man to blink. For a brief moment, he was lost in thought.」

"For several centuries, Eric had the privilege of serving as a Chosen of the Nature Sculptor at the imperial capital's central church headquarters."

"Blessed by the divine, he was once the envy of all—a prodigious young genius who believed he would reach the end of the mystical path and kneel before the deity's throne.

But during a mission to eradicate a cult, Eric suffered grave injuries, and his soul was cursed by evil spirits, forever halting his advancement at the sixth-tier level."

"After decades of stagnation, Eric knew it was time to leave."

"He resolved to spread his Lord's light in obscurity until death, rather than cling to divine favor and live dishonorably on undeserved privileges and support."

"Thus, citing old age, he requested a transfer. With the whispering breeze and the caress of sunlight, he departed the capital for the Iris family's territory."

"This land was indeed lovely. The tranquil life, far from the capital's strife, cleansed Eric's soul—filled with resentment and self-loathing—like a gentle stream. Twenty years passed, and he gradually found peace."

"This was the farthest he could go, Eric thought calmly. Yet he never regretted joining that purge mission or relocating here."

"Because all he had done was not in vain—the joyous laughter during Harvest Season, the echoing hymns of nature at the festival, were his precious treasures."

"'Archbishop, this will be your room,' the steward's voice pulled Eric back from his wandering thoughts. 'It has been cleaned in advance. Should you need anything, just let us know. I’m certain every servant would be delighted to assist.'"

"Eric snapped back to attention, offering a kindly smile. 'Oh, thank you! I recall staying in this very room during my first festival here...'"

"He placed the miniature carriage from his sleeve onto the table, gently tracing the faint scratches on its surface. His grizzled beard lifted with a smile. 'Old friends, aren’t we?'"

Meng Siyou processed the information in his mind.

A once-Chosen Archbishop, a Harvest Season twisted by flames into a sacrificial rite...

"'Look,'" Wu Suer said slowly, as if everything had unfolded exactly as he predicted. "'Her' contingency to ensure the Nature Sculptor’s attention has appeared."

"'—If a former Chosen were publicly burned alive during a festival praising Him, wouldn’t that inevitably draw His furious, questioning gaze?'"