Although Muxuan still leaned weakly against Qiansitelin, her golden eyes had regained nine-tenths of their clarity.
She gently waved the cold crosier in her hand, pointing toward the depths of the mine tunnel.
“Great Artisan God, have the clansmen gather everything usable… we need to leave here quickly and go to the Church’s stronghold.”
Although Zi Luo Mo was dead and the hidden Leopold had been eliminated, the War Rampart was damaged and could no longer provide shelter.
In this situation, if they didn’t leave quickly, it would be hard to guarantee that no accident would happen.
“As you command, Your Highness.”
The Great Artisan God’s voice was heavy.
Then he turned to face Carlo and a few warriors, rapidly issuing one order after another.
After a series of events, the surviving Watkan dwarves still displayed astonishing resilience and efficiency.
Deep in the mine tunnel, the dwarves were nervously packing.
The scarcity of supplies was obvious.
Years of underground living and Zi Luo Mo’s destruction had long strained the Watkan tribe.
Warriors carefully carried the few remaining grain bags woven from thick animal hides or tough vines.
The bags mostly contained durable tubers, dried mushrooms, and a small amount of coarse grain mixed with stone chips.
Because of the Wonder Building, much of the food retained its original form and had no negative effects.
As for the heavy water skins, each was filled with water that seeped from underground, carrying an earthy smell, and tied to their waists or carried on their backs.
Next came the incomplete but still sharp mining picks, and heavy stone hammers used for digging and fighting.
The rest were the standard equipment stored in the deepest part, along with many damaged magical devices.
It seemed that due to their fear of the Abyss, the Watkan tribe had not collected any pollutants.
The Great Artisan God personally directed the securing of several large but vital forging tools with tough ropes, which were then carried by a few strong dwarves.
Some tribal symbols that could not be abandoned were carefully packed away, but some elders still chose to carry scrolls recording tribal history, forging secrets, and mine vein maps.
The process of moving supplies was accompanied by heavy footsteps and labored breathing.
The dwarves, in silence, shouldered some essential items and walked step by step along the newly excavated passage toward the mine exit.
When the dwarves successively walked out of the mine entrance and set foot on the long-missed ground, the scene outside instinctively made them feel suffocated.
Endless Black Mist obscured the sky, devouring the light.
The dwarves, accustomed to the relatively “safe” environment underground, inevitably showed a trace of fear and bewilderment in their eyes when faced with the thick Black Mist.
Muxuan stepped out from the side, breaking free of Qiansitelin’s partial support, and gripped the crosier tightly with both hands.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“In the name of Light…”
She whispered, her voice soft yet carrying a strange fluctuation.
Then, the power of Light surged from within her, in an instant scattering the surrounding Black Mist, forming a semi-transparent pale golden barrier with a radius of several dozen meters.
The moment they stepped into the barrier, the dwarves let out cries of surprise.
The Black Mist outside was firmly sealed off by this soft yet tough barrier of Light, crashing against an invisible wall, churning but unable to penetrate.
“Great Artisan God… who is that?”
At this time, many people also noticed Muxuan and came to the Great Artisan God with curiosity, asking.
“His Holiness the Pope Muxuan had matters to attend to and returned to the Church ahead of us.”
Originally, many of them thought the Church did not value them much…
Now they instead felt that the Church actually valued them.
At least in their eyes, this being before them, who tore through the darkness and erected a barrier, was extremely sacred and majestic.
As if the whole person was the embodiment of Light.
“Her… she symbolizes Light.”
The Great Artisan God’s voice was gentle.
Looking at Muxuan’s figure, a towering figure flashed in his eyes.
—
When Muxuan’s figure solidified at the periphery of the stronghold, the sight before him made his golden eyes turn completely grave.
The entire stronghold, once sheltered by the light of the Node, was now completely enveloped by an incomprehensible, strange structure.
Countless thick, twisted pure black pillars had appeared out of thin air, crisscrossing in a heart-stopping pattern, wrapping the entire stronghold seamlessly within, forming a huge black cage.
The Node light that should have filled the stronghold now appeared feeble against these black pillars, as if it could be completely devoured at any moment.
What made Muxuan’s heart even heavier was the deathly silence inside the stronghold.
The streets were completely empty.
Muxuan extended a finger and tentatively touched the nearest black pillar.
His fingertip passed through without any obstruction, as if it were just an illusory projection.
However, the next moment—
Hiss—Aoo—
The thick Black Mist around the pillar seemed to be pulled by an invisible vortex, and countless Strange hidden within let out shrill wails.
Their twisted forms were uncontrollably dragged toward the pillar, and upon contact, they instantly dissolved, then turned into wisps of pure black smoke absorbed by the pillar.
The pillar itself then took on a darker luster, as if it had received “nourishment.”
‘Devouring the Strange, yet offering no obstruction to him?’
Muxuan’s brows deeply furrowed.
‘The essence of these black pillars… carries a sense of familiarity.’
His golden eyes swept over the black cage that devoured the Strange, then looked toward the direction from which the Watkan tribe’s migration was coming.
After thinking for a brief moment, Muxuan directly walked through it.
As always, there was no obstruction.
Muxuan gazed at the black pillar devouring the Strange, light swirling in his golden pupils.
This strange structure could absorb the Filth in the darkness to strengthen itself, yet it offered no obstruction to him.
He attempted to gather the condensed power of Light at his fingertip, turning it into a concentrated golden beam, and thrust it fiercely at the thick black pillar.
Hum—
The beam passed through the black pillar without any obstruction, as if striking a void projection.
Not even a ripple appeared on the pillar’s surface.
Instead, the nearby Black Mist was stirred by the beam, triggering more wails and devouring of the Strange in a small area.
Muxuan’s brows were tightly knit.
Pure Light, even carrying a trace of Authority, had no effect on the structure of the black pillar itself.
It was like a “trap” existing only under specific Rules, designed specifically to bind and devour beings of Darkness, yet completely ignoring Light itself.
He tried again, covering the pillar’s surface with his palm, attempting to use his vast power of Light to break down its structure from within.
However, it was still useless—the Light dispersed outward.
‘Destruction—ineffective.’
“Lutherch…”
This name instantly surfaced in Muxuan’s mind.
Lutherch was in this stronghold.
If something had happened, he would not have failed to stop it.
Even if he no longer had magical circuits, he still possessed the physical combat power of the Moho Layer.
Muxuan no longer hesitated and immediately rushed toward the Mage Tower.
He didn’t know what had happened here, but Lutherch surely would.