Early the next morning.
The sun of Caeous rose from the east, its white light piercing the pale purple canopy and dyeing the hills a grayish-white.
The air still carried that pungent scent, but it was fainter than yesterday. Perhaps the wind had shifted, or perhaps his nose had simply grown accustomed to it.
Jiang Lin stood up from beside the withered tree and stretched his limbs.
In the clearing, the natives had already woken up.
Some were packing away tents, some were counting the dry rations distributed by Dorian, and others were using stream water to wash the grime from their faces.
The woman holding the child was crouching by the stream, cupping the murky water in her hands and carefully feeding it to the child in her arms.
The child coughed twice but swallowed it nonetheless.
Jiang Lin frowned slightly.
“Cyrus.”
The gray-haired youth was fiddling with his rune stones nearby. Hearing his name, he looked up.
“Is the concentration of pollutants in this stream high?”
Cyrus walked over, knelt by the stream, and dipped a crystal shard into the water.
After a moment, he withdrew the shard and checked the reading.
“Not high, but not low either. Long-term consumption will slowly erode the body, though it’s not a major issue in the short term.”
“Can it be purified?”
“It can with Holy Light,” Cyrus said, adjusting his glasses. “But you can’t come here every day to shine light on this stream.”
Jiang Lin thought for a moment and pulled a fist-sized, pale gold crystal from his spatial ring.
It was a light-attribute magic crystal he had bought from a magic materials shop in the Royal Capital. Its quality was decent, more than enough to serve as the core for a small purification device.
“Help me carve a purification rune array using this as the core. Once placed in the stream, it should be able to continuously purify the water for a while.”
Cyrus took the crystal, turned it over in his hands to inspect it, and nodded.
“This pollution is strange; I need to study it first. It should take about twenty to thirty minutes to carve.”
He turned and walked to the bank, pulling several rune stones and a carving knife from his robe pocket to begin outlining the rune array on the ground.
Jiang Lin did not disturb him and walked back to the clearing.
Dorian was distributing breakfast.
The dry rations were military-issue compressed biscuits, hard enough to kill a man if thrown, yet the natives ate them with great reverence, picking up even the crumbs that fell to the ground and putting them in their mouths.
Victor was still nowhere to be seen, but Jiang Lin’s space perception captured his location.
He was perched on a withered tree on the outskirts of the village, facing north like a silent sentinel.
Selene was tending to the wounded. Today, she had changed into light blue casual clothes, her pale gold braid hanging behind her. She held a small crystal bottle and was applying ointment to the young man with the injured arm.
Her movements were light and slow, treating every wound with care as if she were performing an incredibly important task.
The young man gritted his teeth without making a sound, though his eyes were slightly red.
“There,” Selene said, putting away the crystal bottle and smiling at him. “You can remove the bandages in two or three days. Don’t use your right hand to lift heavy objects until then.”
“Thank you... thank you, milady,” the young man’s voice choked up slightly.
Selene shook her head, not correcting his form of address, and turned to check on the next wounded person.
After breakfast, Jiang Lin gathered Lothar, Mavis, and Selene.
The other groups had also made progress; they stayed in contact through the remote communication function of their Apostle Brands.
Lothar and Good were scouting to the north and had discovered a ruin where the polluted ones gathered, numbering about two hundred.
Those polluted ones had lost all reason, wandering aimlessly through the ruins and occasionally biting each other, but they never left the area.
“They’re like a pack of penned-up beasts,” Lothar’s voice came through the brand, low and calm. “I suspect something there is controlling them.”
Mavis and Selene had found a larger native settlement to the south—a town built against a mountain with about three thousand people.
The town’s defenses were weak, consisting of only a few dozen militia members with crude weapons; they had almost no resistance against the polluted ones.
“We’ve already made contact with the mayor,” Mavis’s voice carried a hint of excitement. “The old man is quite easy to talk to. When he heard we could purify the pollution, he nearly knelt before us. I’ve had them clear a space to prepare for the statue.”
“Don’t rush,” Lothar’s voice cut in. “Confirm first that there are no signs of Demon God Apostles. You’re far from the north, but if the Demon God Apostles are also fighting for faith anchors, they won’t pass up a town of three thousand people.”
“I know, I know.”
Mavis’s tone was somewhat impatient, but she agreed nonetheless.
Jiang Lin briefly explained the situation on his end.
Forty-three survivors, a village mostly slaughtered by polluted ones, and a rift to the north where pollution continued to spread.
“I plan to build the first statue of the God of Holy Light at the village entrance,” he said. “We’ll establish this anchor first before pushing further south.”
“Need help?” Lothar asked.
“Not for now. Cyrus is carving a purification rune array, and I’ll handle the statue. You guys stay steady on your end; don’t be reckless.”
“Understood.”
The communication cut off.
Jiang Lin focused his mind and took a man-sized block of white stone from his spatial ring.
He had bought this in the Royal Capital, originally intending to use it for a decorative sculpture for his mansion, but he had never found a suitable craftsman, so it had been sitting in storage.
It was perfect for this purpose.
He walked to the clearing by the withered tree at the village entrance, stood the stone upright, and took out a carving knife.
The knife was a gift from Alicia, an elven-made tool with a blade sharp enough to cut through iron nails and a handle etched with fine anti-slip patterns.
He gripped the knife and closed his eyes.
The design of the statue surfaced in his mind—not the true appearance of the God of Holy Light, as no one had seen the deity’s true form.
Instead, it was the standard model found in temples:
A figure dressed in long robes, holding a scepter, with a face that was both compassionate and majestic.
This was the image he was most familiar with.
He opened his eyes and began to carve.
The knife glided across the stone, making a faint rustling sound. Stone chips drifted down like snow, landing on his sleeves, the backs of his hands, and the ground at his feet.
His movements weren't fast, but every stroke was steady, made without any hesitation.
His space perception allowed him to “see” the internal structure of the stone, knowing where it was hard, where it was fragile, where to cut deep, and where to graze lightly.
The sensation was wonderful, as if the stone itself were guiding his hand, telling him what it wanted to become.
Time passed minute by minute.
The natives huddled in the distance, not daring to approach, merely watching in silence.
They didn't understand what Jiang Lin was doing, but his focused posture made them afraid to disturb him.
Eri stood at the front of the crowd, staring unblinkingly at the stone being shaped.
He saw a blurred outline, a human shape, one much taller than a real person.
The outline grew clearer, and the details became richer.
The folds of the robes, the patterns on the scepter, the contours of the face—it was a face they had never seen before, belonging to no race on this planet, yet it made them feel inexplicably at ease.
When the final stroke was made, Jiang Lin stepped back and put the carving knife into his spatial ring.
The statue stood about two meters tall, slightly taller than a human, and was pure white, appearing exceptionally striking under the dim sky of Caeous.
Its face was turned toward the south, toward the surviving natives.
“It is done,” Jiang Lin said softly.
As soon as the words left his lips, a very faint golden light shimmered on the surface of the statue.
The light was weak, like the first ray of dawn piercing through a mist—barely there, yet truly present.
The glow started from the head of the statue and spread downward, passing through the robes, the scepter, and the base, before finally sinking into the ground.
The entire process lasted less than three breaths before everything returned to tranquility.
But Jiang Lin could feel that something had changed.
His space perception captured an extremely faint, never-before-seen energy fluctuation.
The fluctuation rippled outward from the center of the statue like waves, covering the entire village before continuing to extend southward.
“What is this?” Cyrus had walked up to him at some point, holding his crystal shard with wide eyes. “My shard is detecting an energy that’s never been recorded... it’s faint, but very stable. It’s like... like a heartbeat.”
“Faith power,” Jiang Lin replied. “The statue has established a connection with the God of Holy Light. This anchor is set.”
Cyrus stared at the reading on the crystal shard, his lips twitching a few times before he finally just shook his head in silence.
Jiang Lin walked to the statue and pressed his right hand against the base.
Golden Holy Light surged from his palm, merging with the light on the statue’s surface.
In that moment, he “saw” something.
It wasn't an image or a sound, but an abstract, essential piece of information.
【Faith Anchor: First Station】
【Current Faith Points: 43/1,000】
Forty-three, exactly the number of survivors.
He withdrew his hand, understanding dawning on him.
A statue needed the faith of ten thousand believers to be considered “qualified.”
Only upon reaching that number could a deity stably project power through the anchor.
Forty-three against ten thousand—they were far from it.
But just then, he felt an extremely faint warm current surge from the statue, flowing into his body through his arm.
The current was so small it was almost negligible, but it definitely existed.
It traveled through his meridians once before merging into his holy light magic essence, causing his total magic essence to... increase by a tiny fraction.
A fraction.
Truly just a sliver.
It was like pouring a spoonful of water into the ocean; almost no change could be seen.
But Jiang Lin was stunned.
Because this wasn't a reward bestowed by a deity.
This was a commission of faith power.
Approximately... one-thousandth of the total faith?
He quickly calculated in his head.
If one statue had ten thousand believers, he would receive faith power equivalent to ten believers.
While it didn't look like much, it would become a substantial gain when accumulated.
And most importantly, he didn't have to do anything.
The deity was responsible for granting power to believers, responding to prayers, and fighting Chaos.
He just built a statue and sat back to collect the profit?
No, he sat back to collect faith.
This was an incredibly lucrative deal.
He looked down at his hand, a sharp light flashing in his golden eyes.
What if he built ten statues?
A hundred?
This planet had two hundred million people. Even if only one-tenth of them believed in the God of Holy Light, that would be twenty million believers.
What was one-thousandth of twenty million?
Twenty thousand.
The faith power equivalent to twenty thousand believers would all belong to him alone.
It could continuously strengthen his power.
The God of Holy Light had made a brilliant move.
This undoubtedly greatly increased his motivation to build statues.
He might even proactively exceed the mission requirements.
If he could prove that this faith power would continue to flow even after he returned home...
Then as long as he kept establishing statues in other similar missions, he could grow stronger just by sitting at home.
Although the God of Holy Light took the vast majority and he only took one-thousandth, for him as an individual, this was already a terrifyingly large income.
And as he built more and more statues, this number would continue to accumulate.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the waves in his heart, and turned to the natives who were still standing in the distance, lost and uncertain.
“This is the statue of the God of Holy Light.” His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached the ears of everyone present. “If you are willing, you may come before the statue to pray. No offerings are needed, no kneeling is required. You only need to close your eyes and say in your heart what you wish to say.”
The crowd was silent for a moment.
Then, the old man with the cane was the first to step forward.
He walked to the statue, looked up at that strange yet compassionate face, and remained silent for a long time.
Then he closed his eyes, his lips twitching slightly as he spoke soundless words.
Others followed suit, one after another.
Some closed their eyes like the old man, some simply stood before the statue with lowered heads, and some knelt on the ground with their hands clasped, tears streaming down their faces.
Mira stood at the very edge of the crowd, not stepping forward.
She merely watched the white statue, the faint golden light reflected in her deep brown eyes.
Her younger brother stood beside her, his thin shoulders trembling slightly.
“Sister, do we have to go too?”
Mira was silent for a moment before shaking her head gently.
“Wait. Let’s watch a bit longer.”
Jiang Lin did not disturb those who were praying.
He retreated to the edge of the clearing, sat cross-legged in the shadow of the withered tree, closed his eyes, and inspected the changes within his body.
That faint faith power was still there. Though small, it was indeed slowly and continuously flowing into his body.
Like a faucet that hadn't been closed tight, dripping water drop by drop—silent and never-ending.
It wasn't much, but its stability was its strength.
And as the number of believers increased, this number would gradually grow.
He opened his eyes, the white statue reflected in his golden gaze.
Ten thousand believers.
He calculated silently in his heart.
This village originally had five hundred people, but now only forty-three remained.
The town to the south had three thousand. If he could turn all of them into believers, he would have completed nearly a third of the quota.
There were more villages, more towns, more natives.
This planet had two hundred million people.
He stood up, brushed the dust off his clothes, and walked toward Cyrus.
The gray-haired youth was still crouching by the stream, continuing to etch the purification rune array.
The patterns were mostly finished, shimmering with a pale blue glow in the morning light.
“Almost done,” Cyrus said without looking up. “Give me a few more minutes.”
...
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