This portion of water would not affect the Demon God's reception of the power of faith, nor would it harm the believers who had already been converted.
However, it would create an extremely faint environment around the statue that was more hospitable to the faith of the righteous gods.
The power of holy light would spread more easily in such an environment, leading to a higher conversion rate for new believers.
He picked up his stylus again and sketched a new rune line on the crystal sheet.
This line wasn't long, with only seven nodes arranged in an arc, like a section of a rainbow.
It wasn't a complete, independent array, but rather needed to attach itself to the energy circulation system of the Demon God statue, like a parasitic vine drawing nutrients from the cracks of the main trunk.
The moment he finished drawing the line, an extremely faint golden light rippled across the surface of the crystal sheet before quickly dimming.
He continued to bury himself in his work, adjusting the position node by node, repeatedly refining every direction of energy flow.
Before he knew it, a sliver of grayish-white light appeared on the eastern horizon.
“Jiang Lin,” Lothar's voice came from the entrance of the valley. “Dorian and the others are back.”
Jiang Lin looked up, put away his crystal sheet and stylus, and stood up to stretch his stiff fingers.
Dorian and Victor walked in from the entrance of the valley. Their steps were light, but their auras were visibly heavier than when they had left.
Dorian walked over to Lothar, squatted down, and drew the general layout of the city in the dirt with his finger.
“The City Lord's Mansion is located slightly east of the city center. It's a three-story stone building with about forty guards. They're all ordinary people with no signs of conversion.” He drew a circle on the southern side of the city. “The southern district is inhabited by artisans and merchants. It has the lowest conversion rate, only about thirty percent. The northern district is home to farmers and laborers, and has the highest conversion rate, exceeding eighty percent.”
“What about the Demon God Apostles?” Lothar asked.
“No sign of any Demon God Apostles,” Victor said, stepping out from the shadows. “They should have already left. They might have gone to other cities in the north, or perhaps returned to their outpost.”
“And their defenses?”
“Very weak,” Dorian shook his head. “Out of the forty guards, most aren't even 1st-rank. Their weapons are also very crude. The city's combat capability is practically zero, entirely sustained by those who have been converted. If necessary, we could take control of the entire city in a single night.”
“Control is not our goal,” Jiang Lin said, squatting down to look at the map Dorian had drawn. “What we want is the people's hearts. Forceful control will only make them more resistant to the faith of the righteous gods. They will think we're no different from the Demon God Apostles—just another group of outsiders coming to conquer their home.”
“Then what do you propose we do?” Mavis asked.
“We start with the southern district,” Jiang Lin said, his finger resting on the southern side of the map. “Merchants and artisans travel far and wide, have seen the world, and are more receptive to new things. Furthermore, they have broad social networks. Once one person believes, they can influence a whole group.”
He tapped a few locations on the map. “First, we'll build three small statues here, here, and here. They don't need to be large—about half a person tall is enough—and we'll place them in front of shops and next to workshops. Let those who haven't been converted come into contact with the power of the righteous gods first, and feel the warmth of the holy light.”
“And then?” Selene asked softly.
“Then we let the facts speak for themselves,” Jiang Lin said, standing up. “The reason those converted people accepted the Demon God's power is because they are afraid. Afraid of pollution, afraid of death, afraid of losing their loved ones. What the Demon God gives them is a temporary relief that ultimately destroys them—exchanging slavery for safety. We need to let them see that what the righteous gods offer is not servitude, but dignity. It is the power to make them human again.”
He paused, his golden eyes exceptionally bright in the morning light. “This is not a war; it is a battle for people's hearts. Violence cannot win hearts—only hope can.”
Lothar fell silent for a moment, then nodded. “We'll do as you say. We'll enter the city today, establish a foothold first, and plan our next steps from there.”
The morning light grew brighter. The seven of them walked out of the valley, heading along the dirt road toward the city once more.
The sun of Caeous rose from the east, its white rays piercing the light purple sky, painting the grayish-brown hills in shades of pale gray.
The air was still filled with that pungent odor, but today, Jiang Lin felt that the smell seemed slightly weaker.
Perhaps it was because he had grown accustomed to it, perhaps because the north wind had stopped, or perhaps simply because he finally knew what he had to do.
The process of entering the city was even simpler than yesterday.
The four guards at the gate merely glanced up at them, stepping aside to let them pass without even collecting any copper coins.
Their faces were paler than yesterday, and the dark red lines at the corners of their eyes had deepened.
As Jiang Lin walked past them, he could smell a faint, sweet, rust-like scent.
It was the byproduct of the Demon God's power continuously eroding their bodies, seeping out from their pores.
The southern district was indeed cleaner than the northern district.
Though the houses on both sides of the street were simple, the doors were wiped relatively clean. A few shops had crude shelves set up outside, displaying clay pots, fabrics, and some rough ironware.
There were more pedestrians here than in the northern district, and their steps were lighter. Though their faces still bore signs of worry, they at least lacked that numb, hollow expression.
Jiang Lin stopped in front of a blacksmith shop.
The shop wasn't large, with only a narrow door for a storefront. From inside came the rhythmic clanging of iron being forged.
A shirtless, middle-aged man stood at the entrance. His muscles were corded, his skin tanned dark by the furnace fire, and his arms were covered in burns and scars.
Seeing Jiang Lin's group stop at his door, he put down his hammer, wiped the sweat from his face, and revealed a set of teeth yellowed by smoke. “Folks, are you here to forge weapons or repair farm tools?”
“We're not buying anything,” Jiang Lin replied in the local tongue. “We just want to talk.”
The blacksmith sized them up. His gaze lingered for a moment on Jiang Lin's exceptionally handsome face, then swept over the others behind him, whose auras were clearly out of the ordinary. His brow furrowed slightly.
“You aren't locals, are you?”
“We came from the south,” Jiang Lin said, hiding nothing. “We're passing through and wanted to rest for a few days.”
The blacksmith fell silent for a moment, set down his hammer, and dragged out a few rough wooden stools from behind the door, gesturing for them to sit. “Have a seat. It's not like there's any business today anyway.”
Jiang Lin sat down on a stool, retrieved a piece of dry rations from his spatial ring, broke it in half, and handed it to the blacksmith.
The blacksmith took it, looked at the high-quality ration, and then at Jiang Lin. He took a bite, chewing slowly.
“Things haven't been peaceful in the city lately,” he suddenly spoke up, his voice very low. “Those black-robed men from the north set up a black stone statue in the city center and forced everyone to worship it. Anyone who doesn't go gets reported by their neighbors, dragged away by those 'crazed' people, and they never return.”
“Did you go?”
“I did,” the blacksmith's voice sank. “I had to. But when I knelt before that black stone statue, I wasn't praying in my heart. I was cursing.” He looked up, a stubborn glint flashing in his cloudy eyes. “Cursing those black-robed men, cursing this city, and cursing myself for not having the ability to take my wife and kids away from this godforsaken place.”
Jiang Lin looked at the blacksmith. There were no dark red lines on his arms or chest. He had not yet been converted.
“If I told you there is another power that can protect you from the control of those black-robed men, and even allow you to protect your family, would you be willing to try?”
The blacksmith's eyes narrowed as he stared at Jiang Lin for a long time. “What power?”
Jiang Lin raised his right hand, palm up. A wisp of golden holy light bloomed from his palm, like a blossoming flower under the gloomy sky.
The light was warm and pure, devoid of any uncomfortable pressure, carrying only a softness that made one instinctively want to draw closer.
The blacksmith stared at the light, his lips trembling slightly as the piece of dry rations slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.
“This is...”
“Holy light,” Jiang Lin said, extinguishing the glow. “The power of the God of Holy Light, one of the Seven Righteous Gods. It is not meant to control you; it is for you to use to protect yourselves and your families.”
The blacksmith fell silent for a long time.
He looked down at his hands, which were rough and calloused from the furnace fire, covered in scars, with iron rust permanently embedded under his fingernails.
“What do I need to do?” he asked, looking up, his voice raspy.
“Just stand here and watch.”
Jiang Lin stood up, retrieved a half-person-tall piece of white stone from his spatial ring, and set it upright on the dirt ground in front of the blacksmith shop.
Then, he took out his carving tool and began to sculpt.
He carved exceptionally fast this time. In less than an hour, a statue of the God of Holy Light stood at the entrance of the blacksmith shop.
The statue was about half a meter tall, only the length of an adult's forearm, but its proportions were precise and its lines smooth. Its compassionate yet majestic face glowed with a faint golden light under the gloomy sky.
This was the natural luster emitted by the statue after establishing a connection with the God of Holy Light.
The blacksmith stood before the statue, looking up at the unfamiliar face, the faint golden glow reflecting in his cloudy eyes.
“Is it... finished?”
“It's finished,” Jiang Lin said, putting away his carving tool. “You can pray, or you don't have to. The statue stands here, and it will work on its own. It will purify the surrounding environment, keeping the pollution at bay, and it will make those controlled by the black-robed men hesitant to approach this area.”
He paused, looking into the blacksmith's eyes. “But its core purpose is to remind you that there is another choice in this world. You do not have to kneel as a slave—you can stand tall as a human being.”
The blacksmith's lips trembled violently. Then, slowly and solemnly, he knelt before the statue.
It was not a worship born of trembling fear, but a weary man finally finding a refuge to turn to.
“I believe,” his voice squeezed out from the depths of his throat, choked with emotion. “I believe in this.”
Jiang Lin reached out to help him up. “There's no need to kneel. The God of Holy Light does not require his believers to bow. He only asks that you walk his path—order, protection, and hope. If you do that, it is the greatest faith you can offer.”
The blacksmith stood up, wiped his eyes with the rough back of his hand, and turned to walk back into his shop. He lifted his hammer and struck the anvil with a heavy blow.
“Clang!”
The crisp sound echoed down the street.
“Wife! Come out!”
A woman wearing an old apron poked her head out from the back door of the shop, holding a basin of dirty water.
“What is it? What are you shouting for?”
“Come out and look at this!” The blacksmith pointed at the white statue by the entrance, his voice so booming that the entire street could hear him. “This is a righteous god! Not that monstrous thing of the black-robed men! We are believing in this from now on!”
The woman froze. She walked out carrying the basin, looked at the statue, and then at Jiang Lin's group. Her lips parted, but in the end, she said nothing. She set the basin down, wiped her hands on her apron, walked up to the statue, bowed her head, and closed her eyes.
People on the street gradually began to gather around.
Some stared curiously, some whispered among themselves, and others recognized the blacksmith, shouting out, “Old Hook, have you lost your mind? Aren't you afraid the black-robed men will come back and cause trouble for you?”
The blacksmith turned to face the onlookers, placing his hands on his hips. His voice was loud enough to blow the roof off. “So what if they come back? I'm not afraid! This young brother said the power of the righteous gods can protect us! Look for yourselves. Now that this statue is standing here, doesn't the surrounding area feel different? Doesn't the air smell less awful? Smell it yourselves!”
The onlookers exchanged glances. Someone took a deep breath, then froze.
It really was different.
The sweet, sickening odor that had long hung over the city and made everyone's head throb was much fainter around this white statue.
It was like opening a window in a room filled with stagnant air, letting a fresh breeze drift in.
Jiang Lin stood beside the statue, watching the expressions of the natives shift from suspicion to curiosity, from curiosity to hesitation, and from hesitation to tentative belief.
Someone stepped forward and reached out to touch the pedestal of the statue.
The moment their fingertips brushed against the stone, the person's body trembled slightly. They looked down at their hand.
On their fingers, the tiny, grayish-white spots left behind by the erosion of pollution were fading at a rate visible to the naked eye.
“This... this actually works!”
The person's voice trembled with disbelief.
The atmosphere on the street shifted instantly.
More people surged forward. Some touched the statue, some knelt on the ground, and others began to whisper prayers.
Mavis leaned in close to Jiang Lin and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear, “You rascal, did you target this spot right from the start?”
“The blacksmith is the social hub of the southern district,” Jiang Lin replied, keeping his voice equally low. “Everyone comes to him to forge farm tools and repair weapons. Now that he believes, half of the southern district will follow suit.”
Mavis glanced at him, her lips twitching. “You're only sixteen, right? How are you shrewder than someone like me who has lived for nearly thirty years?”
“Just naturally gifted.”
Mavis rolled her eyes, turning around to find Selene to discuss building more statues in other parts of the southern district.
In less than half a day, over a hundred people had gathered in front of the blacksmith shop.
Some queued up to touch the statue, some asked the blacksmith about the righteous gods, and others had already returned to their doorsteps, mimicking the setup at the blacksmith shop by crudely piecing together a small statue out of mud and stones, kneeling before it and chanting prayers.
...
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