Xyrin Empire-Chapter 1413: Fortress & City

Now a question has stumped us: What is the purpose of the Goddess Church in sealing off all pre-war documents?

Before, I thought this wasn’t a big issue because the Church has always given the impression of a schemer: it distorts history, blocks knowledge, lets people access only a limited worldview, and attributes everything to the name of the Goddess. So everything it does should be to enhance its divine authority, if not to strengthen its ruling position, then at least for eliminating threats.

But now Bingdisi has found the forbidden books sealed away by the Church, and the content in those forbidden books is a bit strange. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Bingdisi tossed the ancient war history book, which was bigger than a paving brick, up and down as she expressed her opinion: "The most obvious contrast between what’s recorded in those forbidden books and what the Church advocates is whether the ’Heavenly Age’ was peaceful or not. It seems that that period in real history was the worst time for this world, even worse than today’s Dark Moon War. The Dark Moon War only happens once every few hundred years, and each time the ’Goddess’ manages to stop it in time. At other times, the Surface World at least maintains relative peace. No matter how big the conflicts between countries are, they don’t start wars involving entire races as in ancient times. You can also look at those mercenaries outside and think about the three Iron Knights we met during the day. They come from all different races, and many mercenaries aren’t even locals of the Gandor Empire. These people can get along peacefully, and this kind of peace seems to be the norm. I’ve gathered a lot of information in the past two days; this Gandor Empire is a Human-ruled kingdom but has a significant population of other races within its borders. The number of Aliens almost equals that of Humans, and there’s no racial discrimination here. Look at the history before the Dark Moon War: which country allowed Aliens to move freely within its borders or even serve in the army and government?"

At this point, Bingdisi slapped the large book in her hand onto the low table: "In summary, the current world is not just a bit better than the world before the Dark Moon War!"

"Although the cultural regression is quite severe," Lin Xue added in a low voice from the side.

"Yes, cultural regression and historical disconnection are indeed issues," Bingdisi nodded, "because the Dark Moon War is so easy to lose control over. Both the first and third times went out of control, one leading to historical disconnection, and the other causing the global transportation network to gradually collapse. These are enough to push a civilization back by thousands of years. But aside from that, from a humanistic perspective—Isn’t this world a bit more charming now?"

I thought of an apt example: "One scenario is living a fully automated life, but disaster strikes every now and then. The other is living on the outskirts where, unless you’re unlucky enough to be born during the Dark Moon War, you can enjoy hundreds of years of peace—most common folk would likely prefer the latter, at least for the peace of mind."

Just then, I felt a slight movement in my front pocket. Dingdang poked her head out and joined the discussion: "Dingdang heard from Lilina that the core idea of preaching is to make believers feel they have a good meal as long as they follow you..."

That loli Pope, who is dark both inside and out, really cuts to the chase with her words. Though crude, the logic isn’t, because that’s what preaching is all about, right?

Even an experienced old scammer like Bingdisi nodded in agreement: "Yes, that’s pretty much it. To get believers to support you, you need to make them feel there’s a future in following you. Only through comparison can you gain support. In the ideal scenario, you save people during chaotic times, and everyone remembers how tough the past was. They’ll feel that since they met the God, the weather has been favorable, not only are they well-fed and clothed with hope, but even their twenty-year-old chronic ailments show signs of improvement. Talking about preaching, it really is that straightforward."

"But the Church in this world does the opposite," even someone with reasoning skills like Qianqian can see the issue. "The official history is so favorable to the Church: chaos before its establishment, peace afterward. Although some details need modifications, it’s still better than fabricating a ’Heavenly Age.’ By comparison, it seems like they’re the ones who’ve messed up the world."

I frowned as I looked at the "forbidden books" sealed by the Church and prohibited from public reading on the low table, feeling more and more irrational about the Goddess Church in this world: covering up the favorable official history while fabricating a ’Heavenly Age’ that makes the current world seem bleak. What were those monks thinking?

"Speaking of which... isn’t the Pope of the Goddess Church currently at the Northern Fortress?"

Bingdisi suddenly seemed to recall something, lifting her head thoughtfully in a certain direction as if trying to catch a glimpse of that Pope through the tent and city walls.

I twitched my mouth: "You won’t tie him up and torture him, right? Is that necessary?"

"What do you take me for," Bingdisi glared at me, "My idea is just to keep an eye on him. Anyway, there’s a Louse Spirit wandering around the Northern Fortress, let it specifically monitor that Pope for the next couple of days."

I breathed a sigh of relief: "Of course, that’s fine."

Bingdisi stroked her chin, her eyes twinkling: "But on second thought, what you just mentioned is also a great idea, huh. How about we bind that old man and force-feed him chili water? Maybe ask him if the Minister of Propaganda for the Goddess Church was raised on crap..."

All of us, including Dingdang, let out a synchronized "tch," and no one paid attention to that unreliable female hooligan anymore.

Early the next morning, we were woken by the noisy sounds coming from the camp outside. I tidied myself up, rubbed my eyes, and walked out of the tent, running into the female hooligan striding out of another tent. She had a young girl flailing under her arm, whom she handed off to me to hang around my neck as she came over: "Take care of your sister. Curious and active is one thing, but this one yanked out two of my feathers this morning while I was trying to groom myself—who taught her that!?"

I finally snapped out of my morning daze and pulled down the octopus from around my neck, realizing it was indeed Visca. She held two glossy, half-foot-long black feathers in her hand, and upon noticing me looking at her, the cat-eyed loli excitedly offered one: "Brother, brother, people in this world write with quill pens, can you make me one?"

Bingdisi turned away, covering her face: "Damn, she actually figured it out on her own."

I rubbed Visca’s head, unsure of how to educate this lively little sister of mine, but then caught a glimpse of Pandora behind Bingdisi. She was also holding two identical black feathers, which made me frown: "Pandora pulled out two as well."

"Duh, I let her pull them," Bingdisi rubbed her shoulder, acting as if the pain of losing feathers was still lingering, "Visca pulled out two from the left wing, so I let Pandora balance it by pulling two from the right."

Rendered speechless, I stretched my neck to change the subject: "...Where’s Qianqian?"

Lin Xue finally came out of the middle tent as she walked, struggling to tie her long black hair into a single ponytail. Upon hearing this, she looked up at me: "Qianqian? Didn’t she sleep in the same tent as you last night? Speaking of which, you haven’t been called out yet for leaving a Miss like me alone."

"Who knows where she went, she was gone when I got up. Besides, you insisted on having a tent to yourself yesterday, so how can you blame others for that now?" I replied while naturally stepping forward to help the Miss bind her hair. A pretty girl’s simple ponytail always looks different—a plain girl might look like an Amazon warrior from behind, but the Miss, on a whim with this hairstyle, looks like... well, a beautiful Amazon warrior, since I don’t know many adjectives.

At this moment, the mercenary camp was becoming more lively, filled with rough calls and laughter from both men and women, mixed with the sounds of warriors testing their skills and the occasional neighing of horses and barking of dogs from afar. These daredevils from all over the world were warming up their bodies, ready to fight for another day’s pay unless today turned out to be their last day licking blood from the knife’s edge. Then they’d return to enjoy the spoils of being alive. I noticed a new gray tent not far away; last night that spot was just an empty space: newcomers had arrived.

Unexpectedly, even the remote corner we chose was appealing to someone. This place is several miles from the camp’s exit and the nearest "market," so it must be for the sake of peace. In this loud, bustling mercenary community, people who appreciate tranquility are rare indeed.

While I was using the Spiritual Connection to find Qianqian and ask where she was wandering, I intended to greet the new "neighbor." Just then, the curtain of the tent was lifted from within, and a tall white-haired woman ducked out.

I didn’t expect the new "neighbor" to be a girl, and judging by her appearance, she seemed to be a solo mercenary: quite a rare sight in this line of work, which left me momentarily stunned. The person opposite noticed me, a stranger, standing there, looked up at me with a suspicious expression, and asked in a hoarse voice, "Who?"

I quickly sized up the woman in front of me: she looked very aloof, wearing ordinary dark leather armor, with short white hair, her skin somewhat pale, and lips a faint purple hue. I couldn’t tell if it was natural or from lip gloss (considering the seriousness and life-risking nature of mercenary work, I guessed it might be natural). The most striking feature was her eyes—deep purple with vertical pupils, a sight I hadn’t seen among the locals in this world...

Among those familiar to me, there were two with vertical pupils—Lin, because her true form was the Dragon God, and Visca, because that girl had mutated her body for fun years ago and couldn’t change back—of course, that’s a side note.

This quick observation only took a second, but the woman in front had already noticed it. She frowned slightly, and I casually pointed behind me: "Oh, I just came to say hello. We are over there."

The white-haired woman looked up and saw Bingdisi and Lin Xue chatting not far away, as well as the two little girls about one meter twenty tall. Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes showed a bit of surprise. Then she asked, "Hmm, should I move out then?"

I was a little bemused by this strange woman’s logic: "...No, I’m just here to say hello."

The white-haired woman nodded expressionlessly: "Oh."

I realized she was a bit of a deadpan. Usually, it’s hard to communicate with people like that. But what do I care? I’ve gotten used to Pandora’s face that’s like concrete, haven’t I? This current person, you...

But before I could continue, the white-haired deadpan woman turned and walked away, leaving only her back to us in a swift motion.

"That woman didn’t seem very happy," observed Bingdisi with raised eyebrows as I scratched my head, coming back. "Did you ask for her measurements or the color of her underwear?"

I maintained a distance of over two meters from this female hooligan: "Can’t you say something nice in front of Lin Xue...? That woman was strange, possibly not good at socializing; she left without even saying her name. Besides, I felt something odd about her."

"I didn’t notice," Bingdisi shrugged, "Everything in the world looks the same to me."

I chuckled inwardly; that’s true. To True God, the various races of the world aren’t easily distinguishable. It’s like looking at the mechanical language of a computer’s bottom layer—whether noble or commoner, plant, or stone, it’s all just a long string of numbers. The world in Bingdisi’s eyes isn’t this dull, but the "differences" among mortal things are basically similar to her, which means there’s no difference.

But a slightly deadpan white-haired woman isn’t anything noteworthy to us, so we laughed it off. I casually pulled Pandora and Visca by their arms: "I’ve contacted Qianqian. She’s gone to the fortress to find food because she’s hungry. Now she’s reserved seven seats for us in a small restaurant."

Upon hearing we were dining out today, Bingdisi turned and walked excitedly, realizing halfway through and looking at our numbers with a puzzled face: "Why seven seats?"

"She miscounted, I guess," I gazed at the sky. "You know that girl lives in another world line."

The Northern Fortress is essentially a massive military "city." It has to house a large military force for long periods and is far from the Imperial Inland, so facilities like markets, bars, and restaurants gradually appeared within it. They are mostly maintained by the Corps of the Knight Order and serve as the only leisure spots for the stationed soldiers during their dull lives (except for stone and primitive jungle for kilometers around the fortress. Even officers wouldn’t dare use the Transmission Station to seek entertainment in the nearest town). Built against the mountain, the fortress is divided into several layers, with stricter control as you go up. Military camps and such are on the upper levels, with bars and markets on the bottom level, the latter resembling a small town. Generally, only the Second Line Corps and mercenaries outside the fortress can freely move on this level. Going further up requires a pass.

Now, as more reinforcements, especially free mercenaries, gather at the foot of the Long Bridge Mountain Range, forming temporary villages outside the fortress, these small markets inside the fortress are also getting lively. If not for the ever-present watchtowers and garrisoned troops visible on the mountain rock in the distance, walking on the lower level of the fortress feels like arriving in an ordinary medieval town, and the liveliest kind at that. We got a bit disoriented among the crowds before following the signal Qianqian sent to find the restaurant she mentioned.

This restaurant is run by the Retainer Guard. The owner and waitstaff are technically under the Knight Order, all retired veterans or soldiers no longer fit for battle due to injuries. They retain their military status, serving here as if working in a city—Qianqian told me all this over the Spiritual Connection. That girl knows how to probe the local situation, not inferior to Bingdisi’s Louse Spirit, thanks to Qianqian’s naturally sociable personality.

"Ah Jun, Ah Jun! Over here, over here!" As we entered, we heard Qianqian’s voice coming from the side and looked to see her sitting by an empty table, a pile of peculiar trinkets beside her from God knows where. We did "manufacture" some local currency for emergencies, but usually, Qianqian is the only one who can spend it—no one else has such a collecting obsession.

We might have arrived a bit late, as there were few diners in the place now, with two empty tables still in sight, slightly alleviating my guilt over Qianqian reserving seven seats. We took our places by a heavy, rustic oak long table; Pandora and Visca skillfully took out two shell casings to prop on the wooden stools for easier reach to the tabletop. Then an elder looking over fifty called out to someone to serve us from behind the counter; that should be the owner. As Qianqian introduced, he was a retired veteran, seemingly quite senior here.

Qianqian eagerly began distributing "gifts" to everyone. She sorted through the pile of small stones and metal pieces into several portions: "This is an amulet; this is Amulet No. 2; this is Amulet No. 3; this is Amulet No. 4..."

"Why are all of them amulets?" Bingdisi held these strange ornaments bought from some retired veteran’s or mercenary’s stall, utterly puzzled.

"People going to the battlefield need this kind of psychological comfort," Lin Xue understandingly commented, "I heard something similar in the organization where a superstitious combatant had to always wear a pair of lucky socks for missions. Later, their team went on a fourteen-day mission of stealth in the Amazon region. Eventually, their mission was compromised and almost everyone perished, except him. By the tenth day of the mission, his leg was broken by his desperate teammates, and he stayed back at the camp nursing his injury, thus escaping the fate."

I: "..."

Amid our chatter, we suddenly heard a series of energetic footsteps at the restaurant’s entrance, followed by a hearty loud voice nearby: "Hey! Turns out you’re here! The four of us have been looking for you..."

As I turned, I saw a towering humanoid creature blocking the entire door, with a lazy little black cat perched on his shoulder. Through the gap between this big guy’s body and the doorframe, I could vaguely see some hands and feet trying to squeeze inside, with Joseph’s loud, frustrated voice complaining outside: "You giant fool, move aside. With you blocking the door, who can get in..."

Foolish Big Guy!

And those three peculiar Iron Knights! (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast your recommendation votes and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation. Mobile users, please visit m.qidian.com to read.)