Inside the quiet chamber, the air seemed saturated with condensed Holy Light, radiating a solemn and almost tangible gravity.
Ancient defensive Runes were etched onto the walls, now dim and dull under the relentless pressure of sanctity.
Lin En sat upright on a hardwood chair, his upper body bare, revealing a ghastly wound beneath his right shoulder blade.
Though the Breaking Demon Arrow had been removed, the edges of the wound remained an eerie gray-black, as if the flesh had been corroded by strong acid—muscle tissue shrunken and necrotic, a cold and chaotic fluctuation lurking deep within, stubbornly resisting the Healing Spell cast by the Academy’s healers, hindering the growth of new flesh.
Across from him stood Edmund, High Archbishop of the Holy Light Church.
The old man’s hair and beard were snow-white, his face gentle and kind, a spotless ceremonial robe embroidered with golden Sun Holy Emblems draped over him.
A gentle, warm radiance flowed naturally from his form—not blinding, but infused with a power that purified the heart, making all who beheld him feel peace and trust.
Half a step behind, the Vice Commander of the Order of the Dawn Sword Paladins, Lancelot, stood silently.
He was clad head to toe in gleaming Mithril Armor, only his hawk-like, sharp eyes visible.
His gaze lingered briefly on Lin En—appraising, measuring—before settling on Morton.
Morton stood on the other side of the room, hands folded within the wide sleeves of his Fire-pattern Mage Robe, his face calm and unruffled.
Yet, deep within his eyes, caution and calculation stirred.
“Child, relax your mind and let the Holy Light wash away your pain.”
High Archbishop Edmund’s voice was gentle and soothing, like a spring breeze upon the face.
He slowly raised both hands, palms upward.
Between them floated a pure, life-filled orb of milky-white light, its core like a miniature sun, liquid Holy Light flowing within.
As Edmund began to chant an ancient, obscure prayer, the Holy Light flowed like living liquid, gently enveloping Lin En’s wounded right shoulder.
Bzzz—
A soothing comfort, like soaking in a warm spring, instantly replaced the agony.
The Holy Light seeped into flesh, precisely targeting the stubborn, chaotic Breaking Demon energy entrenched within.
Like a red-hot brand plunged into ice water, an intense sizzling erupted in Lin En’s perception—the Holy Light energy overwhelming the Breaking Demon energy in a wave of neutralization!
At the wound’s gray-black edge, a faint white light shimmered, the corrupted tissue gradually regaining a flicker of vitality.
Lin En kept his eyes closed, a trace of relief and gratitude on his face.
Yet deep within his sea of consciousness, the two Mental Cores spun at unprecedented high frequencies!
His spirit condensed into billions of invisible probes, plunging into the torrent of Holy Light enveloping his wound.
The mind of a scientist—analyzing at full capacity!
The Holy Light’s main energy displayed a pure platinum-white spectrum, with a unique particle structure, an intense tendency toward order, and a natural, neutralizing effect against chaotic dark energy.
“So the core mechanism of Light Magic lies in Entropy Flow. No wonder it suppresses and dissolves the chaos Magic of the Dark Holy Court.”
However!
Beneath the stable, powerful main frequency, Lin En’s probe-like spiritual force caught a trace of almost perfectly masked static.
A set of extremely weak, constant low-frequency harmonics—background noise.
It was not an energy carrier, but more like a ghost of information.
A resonance frequency directly affecting cognition, like invisible threads seeking to entwine the tendrils of awareness.
Lin En immediately devoted his full attention to deciphering this low-frequency harmonic.
It was not language, nor imagery, nor even a clear emotion.
It was something more primal, more cunning—a lure that reached deep into the subconscious.
It softly conveyed peace, belonging, devotion, the supremacy of Light…
These concepts themselves held no inherent good or evil, but the method of their transmission sent a chill down Lin En’s spine.
Like the finest micro-carver, it subtly stimulated certain neural pathways, again and again, reinforcing patterns in the brain.
Day after day, imperceptibly, it fostered attachment, identification, dependence—a mechanism of spiritual addiction!
The purpose was clear: to construct highways of Light Faith in the spiritual world.
A cold term exploded in his mind: Meme Contamination!
A virus at the genetic level of cognition, capable of self-replication and infectious spread.
Its seamless integration into the Holy Light energy itself—becoming an inherent, hidden attribute—was all the more horrifying.
Lin En’s gaze pierced the Holy Light, focusing on the beads of sweat on Archbishop Edmund’s brow, a sign of his concentration.
He carefully observed the bishop’s spiritual fluctuations—brimming with faith and compassion, yet devoid of any conscious manipulation of the low-frequency harmonic.
The conclusion struck Lin En like an icy dagger to his mind: This low-frequency harmonic, this Meme Contamination, was not the handiwork of Archbishop Edmund himself, but a core, hidden property of the Holy Light System!
The highest echelons of the Church—those seated on thrones among the clouds—must be aware of this, and were subtly using it.
And pious spellcasters like Edmund were likely nothing more than unconscious cogs in this vast machine of spiritual seeding.
The Holy Light continued to purify his body, bringing warmth.
But at the moment his analysis finished, Lin En’s heart plunged into a frigid abyss.
Within this life-saving Holy Light was a sugar-coated, slow-acting spiritual poison.
“Hah…”
The treatment concluded.
Archbishop Edmund withdrew his hands, weariness and compassion on his face.
Though Lin En’s wound was not fully healed, the flesh had regained a healthy pink, the disturbing gray-black and chill entirely vanished.
Only a slight physical ache remained—now, it was simply a matter of natural recovery.
He flexed his stiff right arm, the familiar sense of control returning, and offered sincere gratitude.
“Thank you for your grace, Archbishop. The power of the Holy Light is awe-inspiring.”
“This is the love of the God of Light, child.”
Edmund smiled kindly, turning to Morton.
“Sir Morton, the resurgence of the Dark Holy Court, and the appearance of the Bane Rune, are grave matters threatening the continent’s peace. We wish to share information with the Academy, and hope to discuss with Student Lin En the details of his ordeal in the Ashen Forest.”
Morton nodded slightly, his tone steady.
“The Church’s concern is understood by the Academy. Intelligence sharing will proceed as necessary. However, Lin En’s wounds have only just healed, and his spirit is greatly depleted. He needs rest. A detailed inquiry can wait until he regains his strength.”
He drew a subtle boundary—not refusal, but not immediate agreement.
Lancelot’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly, but Edmund’s gentle smile remained.
“As it should be. Then, we will first confer with your Academy’s responsible Deacon.”
He cast one last look at Lin En—gentle, filled with expectation and concern, as if encouraging him to recover well.
Then, he turned and left with Lancelot.
As the two Church members departed, the chamber door closed heavily.
The calm on Morton’s face shattered, replaced by a deep gravity.
His gaze, sharp as a blade, fixed on Lin En, voice low.
“How do you feel? Besides the healing, is there anything else—physically or spiritually?”
He emphasized “spirit,” making clear he harbored no blind trust in the Church’s methods.
A glint of icy insight lingered in Lin En’s eyes.
“The wound was cleansed well. The Holy Light’s power to dispel anomalies is indeed extraordinary.”
His voice was steady, betraying nothing.
But then, he deliberately lowered his tone, words probing and thoughtful.
“However… Teacher, when I touched the Holy Light, I felt as if… there was something else hidden deep within it. An… obscure resonance, unrelated to healing, yet strangely pulling at the mind. It felt very wrong.”
Morton’s pupils contracted sharply!
He stared at Lin En’s clear, unclouded eyes—showing no sign of Holy Light’s seduction.
Silence spread between them, the air thickening.
“A thousand-year-old Church. Its depths are beyond anyone’s imagination.”
Morton finally spoke, his words heavy, tinged with subtle chill.
“Your perception… is incredibly sharp. That alone is astonishing.”
He did not press for what exactly Lin En had sensed, but by calling it astonishing, acknowledged Lin En’s intuition was not baseless.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a tone of undeniable command.
“Remember—whatever you sensed, let it rot in your heart! To anyone, especially those within the Academy who may be too devout—speak not a word! Do you understand?”
The warning in his eyes was unmistakable.
Lin En nodded solemnly.
“I understand, Teacher.”
Morton’s tense jaw relaxed slightly.
He glanced toward the adjacent ward, shifting the subject to the immediate crisis.
“Good. Then for now, focus on your mother’s problem. That is the priority.”
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