Inside the palace.
Phil asked nervously, “Prince William, that Ning Busan... can he really summon an angel?”
“I have no idea what Father is thinking, actually appointing him as the High Priest,” William said, his brows furrowed. “If he really does summon an angel, he'll be even harder to deal with in the future.”
Ning Busan was Novalia's man. The higher his reputation among the commoners grew, the worse it would be for William.
Therefore, no matter what, the Holy Spirit Festival must not succeed.
“Your Highness, what should we do then?” Phil asked.
A ruthless gleam flashed in William's eyes as a brilliant idea formed in his mind.
He leaned in and whispered a few words into Phil's ear.
Phil's face turned stark white upon hearing them. He had not expected William to be so bold as to try and sabotage the Holy Spirit Festival.
“P-Prince... I'm afraid this won't do. If His Majesty finds out, he will execute me.”
William raised an eyebrow and sneered, “You're afraid Father will kill you, but you're not afraid I will?”
A struggle played out in Phil's eyes, but in the end, he submitted. “I will do as you command, Your Highness.”
He had been loyal to Prince William for many years and held quite a few secrets over him.
If things really went south, he doubted Prince William would dare to abandon him.
Worst-case scenario, they would drag each other down, and no one would have a good time.
...
In Roman Lane.
Ning Busan had not expected a sudden visit from Isabella. His brow twitched. “What are you doing here?”
Isabella huffed. “If Sister Novalia hadn't asked me to help you, I wouldn't have bothered coming.”
“Not just anyone can receive a response from the God of Light. Over the past thousand years, the Holy Spirit Altar has been opened a total of five times, and not once has it succeeded.”
“Uh...” Ning Busan asked tentatively. “So?”
Isabella said, “So I came specifically to tell you what you need to prepare before the Holy Spirit Festival.”
Ning Busan asked in confusion, “Wait... why are you the one telling me this?”
“I am from the Holy Light Territory. Everyone there is a believer of the God of Light, and we hold a grand festival in His honor every year.”
Isabella said with immense pride, “I have served as a priest for over a decade, so I am very familiar with the procedures of these festivals.”
Ning Busan asked, “Then why didn't they choose you to be the High Priest for the Holy Spirit Festival?”
“Aaaaah! Are you doing this on purpose to annoy me?” Isabella's temper flared. “If it weren't for you, I might have been the High Priest!”
No one could change a decision made by the Mage Association. Since they had chosen Ning Busan, it meant he was deemed the most suitable candidate.
Thus, while Isabella was a bit jealous, she harbored no actual resentment.
Ning Busan looked entirely innocent.
Truth be told, he had absolutely no desire to be the High Priest.
“In any case, since you are the High Priest, you must make proper preparations. First of all—” Isabella pointed at Baphomet in the corner of the room.
“Keep this demon away from you and get rid of that scent of Hell on your body.”
Baphomet looked at Ning Busan, his voice filled with deep resentment. “How could you pray to the God of Light? Do you think this is appropriate?”
Wasn't this human Lord Lucifer's vassal?
Ning Busan pondered for a moment before suggesting, “Baphomet, how about you head back to Hell first?”
Baphomet's voice grew cold. “I will report this matter truthfully to that lord.”
Lord Lucifer valued Ning Busan so highly. How could he betray Lord Lucifer and side with the Light faction?
Baphomet stormed off, leaving Ning Busan with an even bigger headache.
Please, no. The Holy Spirit Festival was already giving him enough of a headache. If Lucifer got involved as well, it would only become far more complicated.
Isabella narrowed her eyes. “Who is 'that lord' he mentioned?”
Ning Busan smiled. “I don't believe... that is any of your business.”
Isabella was nearly fuming. “If it weren't for the fact that you don't have a demonic brand on you, I would seriously suspect you belong to the Hell faction.”
Ning Busan shrugged.
Well, you never know.
“And one more thing. I wrote a prayer for you,” Isabella said. “You must recite it with absolute devotion every day to maintain a connection with the deity, so He can see your sincerity.”
“While I appreciate the gesture...” Ning Busan said tactfully, “I don't think I'll be needing that.”
Isabella snapped, “Huh? You don't actually think you're some chosen one who can just stand on the Holy Spirit Altar without doing or preparing anything and expect the God of Light to answer your prayers, do you?”
Ning Busan fell silent. “...”
One of his alternate accounts, Phoenix, was the most beloved youngest son of the God of Light.
“Whatever! I'm not wasting my breath on you!” Isabella slammed the written prayer onto the table with a sharp slap and stormed out.
Ning Busan glanced at the contents of the prayer:
O Great God of Light, Creator of all things, source of life and hope,
You are the eternal radiance, the embodiment of justice and truth.
May Your light shine upon the earth, dispelling all darkness and gloom;
May Your wisdom guide my steps, keeping me far from confusion and doubt;
May...
Ning Busan crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the trash can.
Recite this stuff?
No way!
He was worried about being recognized by the God of Light during the festival, but if he didn't go, it would put his teacher in a difficult position.
But on second thought, even if the God of Light recognized him as Phoenix, there probably wouldn't be any severe consequences.
After all...
...he had maxed out the God of Light's favorability back then.
...
The most honorable deity of Heaven looked forward to reuniting with his youngest son.
In Hell, the Demon King of Pride plotted to brand Satan—who had lost his power—with the mark of Hell.
The empire's despicable prince intended to sabotage the upcoming Holy Spirit Festival.
Yet Ning Busan, situated at the very eye of the storm, remained utterly oblivious to it all.
And so, the Holy Spirit Festival, fraught with undercurrents, arrived as scheduled.
Ning Busan changed into a white robe embroidered with golden patterns.
On his head, he wore a towering silver crown. At its center was a golden solar badge, surrounded by seven light-attribute gems corresponding to the seven virtues: humility, generosity, chastity, forgiveness, temperance, patience, and diligence.
Around the altar, crowds surged like a tide. Countless citizens gathered, some dressed in magnificent robes and others in simple plain clothes, but without exception, their faces bore expressions of piety and anticipation.
Ning Busan took a deep breath, silently praying that nothing would go wrong.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Ning Busan ascended the altar, his steps slow and solemn along the winding stone stairs.
In the center of the altar, which was carved with golden runes, stood a massive statue.
The statue was sculpted from translucent crystal, its entire form shimmering with a soft radiance. It was as if every ray of light danced and refracted across its surface, turning into countless tiny specks of light that showered every corner of the altar.
However, what was truly striking was that the statue was faceless—its head was as smooth as a mirror, without any trace of facial features.
No one had ever witnessed the true form of the God of Light. Thus, the sculptors dared not depict the deity's face in mortal form, fearing they might desecrate that supreme holiness.
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