Muxuan felt her cheeks instantly burn.
The flush from the earlier impact of scalding energy hadn’t fully faded, and now it reignited because of Qiansitelin’s teasing.
“I-I’m just still a little weak in the legs…”
Muxuan mumbled in defense, trying to stand steady.
But her body still retained that floating sensation and subtle soreness after being forcibly “infused,” making it hard to support herself on her own strength.
She could only lean slightly sideways, shifting more weight onto Qiansitelin’s embrace, avoiding the other woman’s amused gaze.
The smile at the corner of Qiansitelin’s lips grew more pronounced.
She held Muxuan firmly, feeling the warmth and slight tremble in her arms, a protective urge rising in her heart.
“Yes, yes, Your Highness is just weak in the legs.”
This time Qiansitelin didn’t tease Muxuan further.
She just echoed her words, her tone gentle, as if coaxing a child.
But her movements were utterly reliable as she supported Muxuan and took a small step forward.
Without looking at Qiansitelin’s face, Muxuan turned her head away.
The blush spread from her earlobes to the nape of her neck.
She gave a soft hum and directed her gaze toward the passage ahead.
Theodore was now fully awake, rubbing the conspicuous little bump on her forehead.
She sucked in air through clenched teeth while blinking her big eyes, curiously observing the subtle atmosphere between Muxuan and Qiansitelin.
“Pope… is the Saintess seriously injured?”
She had initially wanted to call out “Pope,” but seeing Muxuan’s weak state, she became genuinely worried.
Receiving no response, Theodore wanted to ask further, but catching a glimpse of her grandfather’s composed back, she swallowed her words and immediately scurried to keep pace with the Great Artisan God.
The tunnel stretched in silence.
The light ahead seemed to change—no longer the cold gleam of pure metal and rock.
Ore veins emitting a soft warm orange glow began to appear on the stone walls and ceiling.
“We are entering the outer perimeter of the War Rampart’s core.”
The Great Artisan God finally broke the silence again.
He stopped at a relatively open intersection where three forks appeared ahead, each one plunging into darkness, leading to different directions.
He turned, his gaze falling on Muxuan, who was carefully supported by Qiansitelin.
Muxuan’s complexion had improved somewhat, regaining a bit of color.
“Your Highness.”
The Great Artisan God’s voice was low, carrying a solemnity never seen before—even more reverent than when he swore his oath at the core of the Molten Core.
“Please forgive my earlier disrespect, and thank you for your contribution to the Molten Core.”
His eyes swept over the faint red marks still lingering on Muxuan’s pale wrist and neck, a trace of guilt flashing in them.
“The Holy Relic left by Ancestor Kalibo lies at the deepest part of this War Rampart. It… may have special use for you.”
The Great Artisan God’s low words echoed through the empty passage.
Then he pointed to the middle of the three forks.
“This path leads to the Core Corridor.”
The Great Artisan God explained, his gaze lingering on Muxuan’s tired yet still clear golden eyes.
He continued:
“The relic was personally sealed by Ancestor Kalibo. Only the purest Lightforce can truly retrieve it.”
Upon hearing this, Qiansitelin looked at the Great Artisan God with a hint of wariness.
She didn’t know his character well and hadn’t truly trusted him, even though he had sworn loyalty to her young master.
Feeling Qiansitelin’s tension, Muxuan weakly raised her hand and gently placed it on the hand that was supporting her, calming her with a look.
Then she met the Great Artisan God’s eyes.
Muxuan could see clearly—his gaze held open respect and anticipation, no malice whatsoever.
“I understand, Great Artisan God. Please lead the way.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The Great Artisan God bowed slightly, said no more, and turned to step into the middle passage.
Theodore immediately followed.
She looked at her grandfather’s back, then turned back to glance at the Saintess being carefully supported by Sister Qiansitelin.
Her small brow furrowed in confusion, clearly still trying to process the information of “Pope Uncle” and “Saintess.”
This whole thing was too surreal, not real at all.
It left Theodore’s head spinning, but also carried a hint of excitement.
At the end of the passage, the view opened up.
An underground space of unimaginable vastness spread before Muxuan’s eyes.
A massive dome hung high above, supported by countless interwoven metal frameworks with flowing dark gold energy veins.
Between the frameworks were embedded ores emitting a soft white glow.
Below her feet was a narrow black bridge with a metallic sheen, spanning across endless darkness.
And at the end of the narrow bridge stood a heavy metal circular door.
Theodore looked around curiously, a puzzled expression on her face.
She had never been to this place before.
She instinctively grabbed the Great Artisan God’s thick wrist, pressing her small body close to him.
She poked half her head out to glance downward, then quickly pulled it back, her coppery little braid even bouncing in fright.
“So… so deep!”
She muttered quietly, her voice almost lost in the vast space.
The Great Artisan God patted his granddaughter’s hand to comfort her, but his gaze remained fixed on the door at the end of the narrow bridge.
That door was immense, occupying almost the entire space at the end of the line of sight.
“That’s the entrance to the Core Corridor. The Holy Relic is behind that door.”
The Great Artisan God’s voice carried a solemnity akin to a pilgrimage.
Then he turned to Muxuan, his eyes complex—filled with reverence and a trace of worry.
“Your Highness, the path ahead can only be taken by you.”
Hearing the Great Artisan God’s words, Qiansitelin’s brows immediately furrowed.
Her arm holding Muxuan instinctively tightened.
“What do you mean?”
Facing Qiansitelin’s vigilance, the Great Artisan God rubbed his forehead, then said:
“When the War Rampart was first built, its primary purpose was to seal the Holy Relic, and secondarily to serve as a Wonder Building to shelter the Watkan Tribe. Because of its special nature, Ancestor Kalibo nearly blocked all those without Lightforce from approaching. I myself have never been able to cross this narrow bridge to this day.”
With that, a hint of shame also crept into the Great Artisan God’s voice.
“If it weren’t absolutely impossible, I would indeed like to see the scenery behind that door.”
After hearing the Great Artisan God’s explanation, Qiansitelin’s vigilance eased, but she was still somewhat worried.
“Lightforce… logically, I should be able to go too, right?”
The Great Artisan God gave a wry smile, then waved his hand and pointed at the narrow bridge.
“That’s only the prerequisite to cross this bridge. To open that door, one must have the purest Lightforce.”
Qiansitelin’s heart sank.
“It’s okay.”
Seeing Qiansitelin’s worry, Muxuan raised her hand and gently stroked her face, her tone tender.