Fagreim and the others instinctively grew wary.
Only Theodore, completely unbothered, asked Buzhaqi, “What is Grandpa Lutherch doing now?”
After they had left, Theodore had constantly missed the goat milk Lutherch gave her.
Buzhaqi paused for a moment and then shook his head.
“I don’t know what Sage Lutherch is doing. You can find him yourself when we reach our destination.”
‘He is a Sage,’ Buzhaqi thought.
‘How could I possibly know what Sage Lutherch is doing?’
Theodore let out a small “oh” and lowered her head, looking a bit dejected.
The black mist grew thicker, accompanied by sounds of *creak* and *clang* echoing through the air.
There seemed to be… the sound of rolling wheels?
In that instant, Fagreim’s nerves became highly strained, and his tiny, soybean-sized eyes darted around constantly.
Marcus relit his torch, which he had extinguished earlier when they had entered the light.
“Hey, where do you think you’re taking us?”
Having stayed in the outpost enveloped by Lightforce, even if only for a short while, Barak felt as if he had developed an addiction.
Now that they had left the outpost, combined with the constant noises from the black mist and that decaying, choking stench, Barak instinctively felt that Buzhaqi had ill intentions.
“Barak!”
Theodore immediately turned back and glared at Barak.
Marcus and Fagreim also tugged on Barak’s belt, signaling him not to speak out of turn.
From the look of it, their guide was an important person in the Church, and they could not afford to leave a bad impression.
Buzhaqi’s voice followed.
“Relax, these are workers transporting ore from the southern mineral vein. You can take a closer look.”
Marcus and Barak hesitated, but someone in the black mist seemed to recognize Buzhaqi’s voice and immediately shouted, “Lord Buzhaqi!”
Soon, a faint light slowly approached.
A figure appeared, pushing a cart and slowly coming to a stop in front of Buzhaqi.
Around his neck hung a stone that emitted a warm, golden glow.
“It’s Uncle Derek. How is the situation at the southern mineral vein?”
“The mining is going very smoothly. On the contrary, we’re a bit short-handed on transporters. I need to finish this trip quickly to head back for the next one!”
The middle-aged man Buzhaqi called Uncle Derek stopped his cart and scratched his head with a simple, honest smile.
“Don’t you feel tired?”
“Tired? Not at all! Being able to work for the Church makes me happier than anything!”
Uncle Derek’s face was brimming with a smile; it seemed he truly meant those words from the bottom of his heart.
His words plunged the three Goblins into silence.
“By the way, what kind of ore is this?”
After a bit of small talk with Uncle Derek, Buzhaqi pointed at the ore in the cart and asked with some curiosity.
“Oh, these? They were just mined. I’m not sure what they are either. I was planning to take them back and have Bishop Valentin identify them!”
Just as Uncle Derek finished speaking, Barak’s cry of surprise rang out.
He had not noticed earlier, but now that Buzhaqi had mentioned it, Barak took a sharp breath.
“Purple Rich-Luster!”
Barak’s exclamation also caught the attention of Fagreim, Marcus, and Theodore.
When the three of them looked at the ore, they all gasped as well.
“You know this?”
Buzhaqi looked at Barak with some surprise.
He truly did not understand these things, but looking at the expressions of the four, this material was likely extremely precious.
“Purple Rich-Luster. Moderate hardness, low mining difficulty, and extremely high rarity,” Marcus explained calmly, suppressing the surprise in his heart.
“It’s an excellent material for making magic tools, one of the raw materials for crafting quasi-Divine Artifacts, and can also be used as a magical material for formations.”
“Why are you telling this guy!”
Barak became anxious when he heard Marcus speak so freely, and he shouted at him in a low voice.
“Barak.”
Fagreim’s warning voice came again.
Marcus rolled his eyes at Barak and moved to the side.
How could they not know what Barak was thinking?
He had simply developed a wicked idea, thinking that this human was not strong and wanting to snag a few pieces.
The problem was that these items belonged to the Light Church.
If they wanted to continue staying in the Church’s territory in the future, they absolutely could not touch these things.
“The southern mineral vein? Is it that place?”
Theodore remained silent for a while before hesitantly pointing in a certain direction.
“Yes, little girl,” Uncle Derek replied with a smile and a nod.
Upon receiving confirmation, not just Theodore, but even Fagreim and Marcus were plunged into shock once more.
They knew all too well what that place represented.
The Great Artisan God had warned them repeatedly, even calling it a forbidden zone.
It was not just any place; it was the location where “He” truly slept…
“You…”
Barak had also realized it by now, his voice trembling slightly.
“His Holiness has already resolved the crisis there and has forced that terrifying existence back into a slumber.”
Buzhaqi’s flat words felt like a thunderclap exploding in the hearts of Theodore and the other three.
Slumbering… again?
This level of shock could no longer be described with words.
The Great Artisan God was the pinnacle in their hearts, like an insurmountable mountain.
And an existence that even the Great Artisan God admitted he was not even one ten-thousandth as powerful as… was actually dealt with by the Pope of the Light Church?
Even if he had only forced it back into a slumber…
The image of Muxuan holding his Crosier appeared in Theodore’s mind, and she automatically filled in a series of scenes of him fighting “Him.”
As for why the Pope needed her to save him when they first met… that went without saying.
He must have been heavily injured during his battle with “Him.”
Admiration for Muxuan sparkled in Theodore’s eyes.
Fagreim, on the other hand, was re-evaluating the Church’s strength.
He thought that they must build a good relationship with them, and he also needed to report this matter to the Great Artisan God.
Perhaps the recent movements of the Goblins were because of this… and the Intek people might take action soon as well.
Barak finally quieted down, becoming much more well-behaved.
In the face of overwhelming power, he finally felt fear.
Seeing the various expressions on their faces because of his words, a smile appeared on Buzhaqi’s face.
He had also been startled when he first learned about the existence His Holiness had to face.
He did not have the strength to truly grasp how powerful “He” was, but he only needed to understand one thing — “He” was almost powerful to an invincible degree.
Yet His Holiness had still defeated “Him.”