Chapter 122
Stop talking…
What nonsense are you talking about!
Wakako knew full well that Miki was teasing her on purpose, praising her to the skies in front of others just to see her blush in embarrassment.
Wakako was easily embarrassed, and even with her head hidden, she could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks through her sleeves.
The craftsmen, who had grown familiar with Wakako recently, were far less restrained. They exchanged amused glances before one of them spoke with a sly grin: “The Madam is absolutely right, Captain. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”
“You became captain at such a young age. Who knows how many Omegas dream about you,” they chimed in.
“Indeed.” Miki agreed without a hint of displeasure. She gazed at Wakako with a gentle smile and softly said, “That’s why I’m always afraid someone will steal her away…”
“Not at all, madam. The two of you share such a deep bond,” another craftsman added. “Every day, the captain never forgets to bring you snacks, and we’re only fortunate enough to enjoy them because of you.”
“And madam herself comes from such a noble background and even has the Queen’s favor—surely you’re incredibly talented as well.”
Wakako had just peeked up but quickly covered her face again, blushing even more.
Usually, she wouldn’t let Miki talk like this, exaggerating her abilities and making her sound so untouchable. After all, wasn’t the truly untouchable one Miki herself?
But in the end, Wakako didn’t say anything. In her memory, this seemed to be the first time Miki had chatted with so many people…
In the past, only the heads of noble families had the privilege of sitting at the same table as the Saint. Others were limited to offering her a toast before retreating with their heads lowered.
Wakako gently patted her blushing cheeks, glancing up to see Miki’s expression.
She… looked genuinely happy.
Actually, Wakako didn’t care about Miki’s status or whether she followed noble etiquette.
As long as she could often show such genuine smiles, that was enough.
However…
Looking at Miki like this, Wakako felt something strange. She couldn’t tell if she was overthinking, but her brow suddenly twitched, as if sensing something unusual.
The craftsmen, meanwhile, had talked themselves hoarse and began pouring water to drink. One handed Miki a cup as well. She accepted it without hesitation, took a couple of small sips, and then turned to Wakako with a questioning look.
Under Miki’s gaze, Wakako’s unease gradually subsided.
Perhaps it was just her imagination.
***
How long would it take to travel the entire Eastern Continent alone? No one had ever answered this question, especially before the two kingdoms united.
But now, Hua Yumu could provide an accurate answer.
He had been gone for a total of sixty-eight days. Excluding the extra time spent locating temples, it was forty-one days. He visited every city, finally returning to the palace with a marked map.
Hua Yumu enjoyed the Queen’s complete trust, and thus the privilege of bypassing the main entrance. He entered the study through the window, startling Ruijun.
She frowned slightly, about to speak, when her gaze fell on his face. Whatever he’d been through had darkened his skin considerably, almost like charcoal, completely unlike his former handsome appearance.
Ruijun couldn’t help but laugh.
Expressionless, Hua Yumu covered his face with a mask. The reason he didn’t use the main entrance was to avoid the servants seeing him like this.
“This is the map Lady Miki requested.” He carefully placed the hard-earned scroll on the Queen’s desk. “Please have a look.”
Ruijun scanned it carefully.
Neat handwriting marked over three hundred temples across the continent, densely clustered together, demonstrating people’s fervent faith.
“You’ve worked hard,” she sighed. “Why not take this directly to Miki?”
Hua Yumu paused briefly: “So, you approved.”
Ruijun didn’t answer directly but instead asked, “Do you know when the first temple was built?”
“According to temple records, about two thousand years ago.”
“Have you wondered what this continent was like three thousand years ago? Five thousand?”
Hua Yumu remained silent.
Two thousand years ago marked the point when people first began recording the stories of the temples in writing. By then, they already had language and the ability to write. But what about before that?
When did the first humans appear in this world?
Why was there no record, no trace of anything that came before?
Ruijun stopped there, saying just enough to make her point.
“In this world, there are so many people, yet so few things that are truly precious. It’s inevitable that we fight and compete over them.”
She sighed, “Once, I fought another ruler over who would claim dominion over this continent. Saionji Saburo and Miki competed for the title of ‘Saint.’ Even my youngest daughter once joked about wanting to replace her sister as crown princess…”
“That position is no different.”
“It doesn’t matter who holds it. My only concern, as queen, is ensuring that my people won’t be harmed because of it.”
“Miki is the best choice. I know her character and temperament, but more importantly…”
As she spoke, Ruijun recalled moments from her youth when she and Miki occasionally discussed poetry and books at the Saionji estate. Whether now or in the past, she had never forgotten this ever-present yet subtle friendship.
But now, she was no longer Ruijun. She was the queen, and as such, she forced herself to set aside personal feelings and judge without bias.
“She has a weakness. People with weaknesses understand limits.”
Hua Yumu remained silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, only confirming: “If this is your decision, I’ll deliver the map.”
“Go,” Ruijun said. “Once the arrow is released, there’s no turning back.”
The elders of the royal family often said Ruijun was too soft-hearted and needed to cultivate a more decisive nature.
But the royal elders didn’t understand that once a soft-hearted person made up their mind, nothing could sway them.
If they were still alive, they would likely point a finger at Ruijun and scold her for making such an absurd decision.
I’m sorry, Mother.
Ruijun showed a faint smile.
When I see you after I’m gone, I’ll seek your forgiveness.
***
Wakako slept so soundly that despite her trained sensitivity, she didn’t notice the person beside her quietly rising, dressing, and leaving the estate.
The summer night’s cool breeze brushed her cheeks as Miki looked down at her shoes, staring at the unmistakable traces of her noble upbringing.
Small, slow steps, never letting head ornaments shake while walking, or it would be “improper.”
Even though she no longer needed to care, these habits were deeply ingrained in her bones, impossible to change.
Miki walked step by step to the city outskirts, climbing the mountain.
Her body wasn’t as weak as before, but her stamina remained poor. After such a long walk, even the softest shoe soles had broken her feet, blood was covered by black leather, invisible in the dark night.
It hurt, but Miki’s face showed no impatience or desire to give up.
The mountain path was steep and exhausting. She took a shallow breath, not knowing how long it took to reach halfway up.
Her throat began tasting of blood, but Miki carelessly wiped the red from her lips with her handkerchief.
The divine temple halfway up the mountain was ancient, barely deserving of the title. It was more of a small hut, but its history was long.
Miki pushed open the door.
The stench of decay hit her immediately. A corpse lay there, reeking of rot. It must have been dead for days, its skin already discolored. Yet its eyes were tightly shut, and its face, oddly enough, wore a serene smile.
The Saionji clan were known for their delicate features, and Saburou had been handsome in life. But death had turned him into something grotesque.
Miki looked at the almost unrecognizable face and sighed imperceptibly.
The Saionji clan was long gone. Now, her last living blood relative, her cousin, was gone too.
“Was this brief moment all you wanted?” she asked softly.
Saints couldn’t live past twenty-five. Saburou was two years older than her but insisted on replacing her as the Divine Servant. Before reaching twenty-five, he had quietly passed away in this forgotten place.
Miki couldn’t even feel hatred toward him, only pity.
The things denied to us in our youth, she thought, end up trapping us for the rest of our lives.
Wasn’t it the same for her?
She had escaped the shackles of the Saint, yet willingly walked into a new cage.
Miki held the slightly wrinkled map, slowly biting her fingertip, gradually tracing the mountains’ shapes with blood.
She bent down and pricked Saburo’s hand with a needle. The blood, long since stagnant, was darker than the deep night, slowly soaking into the parchment.
Miki took out the jade pendant from her chest. From the moment she received it, she understood its purpose.
The God’s dominion extended beyond this continent. Beyond this world, there were others—places where people had successfully broken free from God’s control.
Where did God’s power come from? Faith and continuous offerings.
What if she took it all away…
After all, having been divine servant and Saint for so many years, she knew better than anyone how to do it, right?
In the moonlight, Miki looked down at the divine small wooden statue. Once upon a time, she had thrown tantrums and smashed it countless times.
Now, the statue no longer had a featureless, emotionless face. It had long hair tied behind the ears and a beautiful, delicate appearance that could captivate the heart.
Miki smiled slightly, gazing at it entranced, watching the blood spread across the map in intricate patterns.
She could feel her already limited strength rapidly draining, the blood showing no signs of stopping.
Something began collapsing in the night wind, followed by cries of shock from city residents rushing into temples to see what had happened.
Wherever the blood reached on the map, the statues in that city broke.
Miki lowered her head, struggling to stay conscious.
“Miki…”
As expected, she’d awakened.
Wakako stood silently in the doorway, watching her with concern.
Miki wanted to say she was fine, but she didn’t have the strength to speak or even to hold the small wooden statue.
It rolled to the ground, tumbling to a stop in front of Wakako.
The little statue seemed like a mirror, reflecting Miki’s own face.
Just wait… just a little longer, Wakako. Why are you crying?
