Jiang Ming floated in a long, heavy darkness for an unknown amount of time before his consciousness, like a damaged buoy, struggled to break the surface.
He forced his heavy eyelids open with great effort.
It was the simple white ceiling of a hospital ward. He turned his head slightly.
By the window, the early morning sunlight was sliced into gratings by the blinds, spilling diagonally into the room. In that interplay of light and shadow, the young girl sat quietly in a chair.
She still wore that dark uniform, her coat draped casually over the back of the chair, her long black hair falling smoothly. At this moment, she held a thick hardcover book in her hands, the gold-embossed title on the cover indistinct in the light.
Her posture as she looked down to read was exceptionally focused. Her long eyelashes cast small shadows under her eyes, and her eyes moved slowly with the text on the pages. Her entire being was as serene as a classical oil painting frozen in time.
Sensing the focus of his gaze, Elvira’s movement to turn the page paused. She looked up, her glaze-like red pupils meeting Jiang Ming’s not-yet-clear vision with precision.
“Awake.”
Jiang Ming blinked with effort to clear his vision. The girl by the window overlapped with the figure in his memory who had stuffed a lollipop into his mouth. His throat was a bit dry; he swallowed before letting out a raspy voice:
“…Thank you.” He paused, then added, “That candy… seemed to be of some use.”
Elvira closed the book and turned her red eyes toward him. Her face remained expressionless, only tilting her head ever so slightly, as if evaluating the meaning and necessity of this expression of gratitude.
“You are welcome.” Her response was as simple as a pre-programmed feedback loop.
A brief silence permeated the scent of disinfectant. Jiang Ming watched her. The image of the figure holding giant scissors and descending from the sky in the blood-colored church was still at odds with the girl quietly reading before him.
“Jiang Ming.” He spoke up first, breaking the silence. “My name is Jiang Ming and you?”
This name and its related memories had existed in his mind since he crossed over. It was just that because of the battle earlier, he had no way to properly read through these memories.
It was strange, however. This person’s name was actually the same as his own, and his memories told him that it was now one hundred years after his death as the Lord Protector.
“Elvira,” she replied, but her gaze lingered on his face for an extra second, as if wanting to observe the reaction of this man named Jiang Ming to that name.
“A very nice name.” Jiang Ming nodded, preparing to say something more.
At that moment, the ward door was pushed open soundlessly.
An old man dressed in a proper dark coat, his hair meticulously combed, walked in.
He was about sixty years old, his face etched with deep wrinkles from the years, but his back was straight and his gait steady. He leaned on an ebony cane.
Elvira stood up and closed her book almost the instant the door opened. She offered Jiang Ming no further explanation or farewell; she merely gave the entering old man a very slight nod, then clutched her thick book and sidestepped past him, leaving the ward directly. The door closed softly behind her.
The old man walked to the chair Elvira had just occupied but did not sit down immediately. He leaned his cane against the wall and fixed his gaze on Jiang Ming.
“Good morning, young man.” His voice was low and gentle. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“And you are?” Jiang Ming asked with some curiosity.
The man sat down in the chair, his posture relaxed yet naturally commanding, with his hands folded over the top of his cane.
“My name is Charlie, the Vice Director of the Order Bureau in Opeth City.” He smiled slightly, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothing out, making him look very kind.
“Don’t be nervous, child. I’m just here to ask a few routine questions to understand the situation.”
“Go ahead.” Jiang Ming instinctively tensed his body, leaning against the headboard to sit up straighter.
“Name?”
“Jiang Ming.”
“Age?”
“Eighteen.”
“Identity? What brings you to Opeth?”
“A traveler from afar, here to study.” As Jiang Ming spoke, he pulled a carefully folded letter from his trouser pocket and handed it over.
It was an invitation made of thick parchment with the wax seal intact. His name, “Jiang Ming,” was written on it in elegant copperplate script. The pattern of the seal was complex and ancient—a key surrounded by stars, with a line of small text inscribed in an ancient language below:
“Before the door of ignorance, insight into truth.”
This was the emblem of the Dome of Knowledge. Back in the era when Opeth City was still known as a Frontier Outpost, this academy had already taken root here. It was not only one of the most prestigious institutions on the continent but also the birthplace and debating ground for countless transcendent theories and occult doctrines.
Charlie took the invitation, his gaze lingering on the emblem and the wax seal for a moment. His fingers lightly brushed the edge of the paper as if sensing something. After a moment, he nodded and handed the letter back.
“An admission letter for the Dome of Knowledge. No issues there.” His tone was flat, revealing little emotion. “Well then, Mr. Jiang Ming, could you please tell me… what exactly happened last night?”
“Yesterday morning, I just stepped into this city. In the afternoon, I was organizing my meager luggage at the inn, and at night…” Jiang Ming scratched the back of his head with slight embarrassment. “I found a bar and had a bit too much to drink.”
He paused, seemingly trying to piece together that chaotic memory.
“When I woke up again… I was already tied to that damned stone altar.”
Charlie listened quietly, his hands still folded over his cane. However, in his narrowed eyes, the sharp light did not diminish in the slightest despite his kind appearance.
He knew all too well—in a sacrifice to an evil god shielded by a Void Domain, the possibility of a sacrifice surviving was minuscule. The probability was as small as asking a drop of water to remain cold in a furnace.
And the very few cases that managed to survive a sacrificial ritual either paid a tragic price or… carried some kind of anomaly themselves.
“Oh?” Charlie’s voice remained steady. “Then how exactly did you… survive?”
At that precise moment, a breeze from nowhere blew through the ward, lightly lifting a corner of the unfastened curtain. The morning light streamed in, casting a shifting spot of light on the floor between them.
Jiang Ming met Charlie’s scrutinizing gaze without flinching.
“Because I awakened my Soul Source.”
Jiang Ming did not choose to hide it. The traces of fighting at the scene and the subtle ripples that an awakening Soul Source would inevitably leave on the spiritual level could not be hidden from a truly high-ranking individual.
Furthermore, something like a Soul Source was no longer considered a secret.
Deliberate concealment would instead make him seem suspicious.
“Then, I fought them.” His tone was flat. “After I killed all of them, a bunch of… indescribable, weird tentacles emerged and cleaned up all of them.”
“And then the tentacles and those people disappeared.”
He omitted the most critical part—the presence of the red-haired individual and the invitation from the Cleaner.
The Cleaners were always a sensitive topic, and he had no way of knowing what attitude official institutions held toward them.
Charlie was a bit stunned after hearing this.
Who exactly looked more like a cultist here? An initiate who had just awakened, killing all the cultists on the opposite side?
Was that right? That didn’t seem right.
For a moment, Charlie even wondered if this young man was cut from the same cloth as that group and had merely had an internal falling out.
After a moment, he looked up and said:
“Then, one last question.” Charlie pulled out a small mirror and asked,
“Do you know what you… look like right now?”
The ward fell silent for a moment.
A smile that was a mix of helplessness and bitterness appeared on Jiang Ming’s face.
“I know.” Jiang Ming took the mirror, looked at himself in it, and let out a soft breath. “But as for why I became like this… to be honest, I’m not entirely sure myself.”
“I see,” Charlie said without further questioning. “Then, do you have anything you want to ask?”
“Yes.” Jiang Ming immediately replied, his eyes brightening a bit. A slightly embarrassed yet expectant smile appeared on his face as he raised a hand to scratch the back of his head.
“Those three cultists… is there a bounty for them?”