466 New Blood

In the darkness, a faint beam of light fell down. Pure light illuminated the iron altar and the old stone cauldron on it. It seemed to have been weathered by thousands of years and was extremely old. Covered with cracks, one could not tell its original appearance. Subtle crimson sloshed inside. The cauldron was filled with blood, filled with a beautiful bloody color.

It was the Holy Cauldron. This was the heart of the human world, the only natural catastrophe at the same level as Hyakume, but it did not seem as powerful or majestic as one would imagine. It was just a simple stone cauldron.

And in the blood color inside the cauldron, there were ten mysterious badges. Six glowed gently. The other four were dark and did not feel tangible.

The old keeper studied the badges and sighed with his head lowered.

Footsteps sounded in the distance, breaking the silence. Someone crossed through the broken pieces of the aether world to here.

The keeper looked back and saw a red crown and robe. It was the King of Red.

"It's you, Holy See." The keeper smiled. "You haven't come in a long time." The keeper's face under the messy hair was revealed in the refracted glow of the formless blood. His face was so old and withered but it looked…identical to the King of Red!

Illuminated by the glow, the pope walked onto the altar. The two extremely similar faces passed each other.

The pope lowered his head, studying the beautiful glow in the cauldron. "Is this new blood?"

"Yes." The keeper's smile became gloating. "Sad, right? The pope is the carrier of sacred blood and the keeper of the Holy Cauldron. Now, the old blood has not died yet but the new blood has already been born… It seems that even the Cauldron thinks you can't hold on for much longer."

The pope remained silent. He looked down at his hands as if he could see the fine cracks on his bones through the ghastly pale flesh.

"Dragged on all these years, I finally can't endure much longer," he said. "Almost to the limit."

"You are a human, after all," the keeper said casually as if it didn't matter to him. "I've said thousands upon thousands of times that humans all die. Hole See, it seems that you still haven't gotten accustomed to it."

"You're not worry?" the pope asked.

"No, of course I am not worried." The keeper scratched at the lice on his scalp and said nonchalantly, "Something like you doesn't need my worry. Instead, let me worry about other things."

He paused. Looking at the cauldron, he pointed at the four extinguished badges. "You should at least speed up the saintly inheritance."

"Haydn is already old and he's prepared," the pope said. "After he dies, his disciple will accept his inheritance."

"This can only ensure the total number." The keeper shook his head in dissatisfaction. "Of the six still living, there are two kings and four saints… Of the three kings, the King of Yellow has escaped, you must stay in the Sacred City, and all pressure is shouldered by the current Bach. He is already exhausted from protecting the completeness of the human world.

"Someone must fill in the other four positions. Before you die, can you at least clean up the mess you created?"

The pope said, "I'll try my best."

"You see the outside world clearer than me." The keeper asked, "In the next decade, is there anyone who can fill in a saint's position? That kid named Wolf Flute…Bach's disciple seems okay. Hasn't he become a Scepter recently?"

"Wolf Flute? He is incapable." The pope shook his head. "He is unwilling to take great responsibilities and fused with the simplest low-level element. His potential is not enough.

"If he waited three more years for the Sacred City to lay down the foundation of his legend, he could at fuse with at least three upper-level elements with his talent and inherit Bach's crown."

"The youth want simple freedom. Not everyone wants to jump into the mire." The keeper took some nuts from his pocket and chomped on them. "He is still too young. Let him come in ten years. He should be more mature then. Starting over again is just ten years. Twenty years later, he will be forty-three. For a saint, that is very young."

"I will keep that in mind," the pope said. "You should have more candidates, right?"

"What about the third prince of Asgard?" the keeper suggested. "He is a rare talent within generations. Even I know how powerful he is without going outside. He is only seventeen but already at the Distortion level. Sixteen families support his inheritance of the crown. He has a bright future."

"But he doesn't want to be a saint," the pope said. "He wants to kill his two elder brothers and become the second emperor, after his great-grandfather, to rule all of Asgard with utmost power. He is not a suitable candidate."

The keeper shook his head. "It is not a rule that emperors cannot be saints."

"Those that can be emperors are definitely not saints," the pope said. "No matter from which aspect."

"What about Rommel?" the keeper continued. "The 'quick knife' and 'rabid dog' of the Silent Authority. Thankfully Handel has trained him. He is only twenty-four years old but already full of accomplishments. Apparently, the demons all call him the 'executioner.' At such a young age, he already has so much blood on his hands. I'm sure you'll like him."

"Fifteen years," the pope replied after a moment of thought. "Fifteen years later, he will be a qualified saint. However, there is not much hope in the short-term."

"Alfonso from the Southern Illusion Islands is the strongest genius in the history of the Voodoo Crypt."

"He had no more breakthroughs after entering the Distortion level. The Voodoo Crypt ruined him. He is material that can be developed and shouldn't have followed the old paths. It may be possible for him to become a scepter but not a saint."

"There are many talents recently from the School of Choir. What about that crazy woman who studied cloning of cells to the extreme?"

"Angelina?" The pope thought for a while and shook his head. "She is too young and doesn't have enough experience. With her proposition, she needs at least twenty more years."

"Casper Hauser? Calculating the time, the beastly nature should be on him already."

"There is hope of him becoming a Scepter but it is more possible for his brother to become a saint. However, it will take at least seven years to see if he can make the breakthrough."

"What about Samuel from the School of Destruction? Isn't he the one with most potential in the new generation?"

"He's dead."

"Dead?" The keeper was stunned and shook his head. "What a pity… What about Colt from the Rock Institute?"

"Also dead."

"Is the kid from Burgundy, known as the eagle of the empire, dead too?"

"Yeah, dead too."

"What about the Karamov brothers from Caucus?"

"All dead."

"F*ck, is it the trend for the young ones to die now?" the keeper swore. After a long while, he looked at the pope. "Then what about that legendary Eastern kid?"

He studied the pope. "Our duke, the inheritor of the amazing Deva's blood, the sword bearer of Anglo, and the son of the biggest traitor—Ye Qingxuan. How is he? A freak like him appears in every era. If he continues his path, I think he only needs at most five years—"

"No, he is the least possible," the pope interrupted and shook his head resolutely. "Ye Qingxuan will never be able to become a saint, no matter how accomplished he becomes."

"Why?" The keeper was infuriated.

The pope looked at him and said calmly, "Unless you want a second Revolutionary army to appear."

"To someone like you, humans are all unsightly, aren't they?"

"Perhaps."

"Is there anything on this world that is perfect to you?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps? It is rare for you to say something so ambiguous." The keeper shook his head in dissatisfaction and stopped talking.

After a long while, the pope moved from the Holy Cauldron to the keeper's body. The two identical faces were very eerie.

"The duration," he said. "How much longer?"

"Soon," the keeper replied. He turned. Walking down the altar with the pope, he waved a hand.

Something rumbled in the silence. The sound did not come from above or below them but from all directions. It was as if the entire Dark World had roared in anger. Under the loud boom, countless gears began turning, creating sparks of fire. The chains and wheels crashed with piercing and grating noises. The most important was a boom like a heartbeat.

The ten thousand ton hammer pounded at iron, creating a heart-stoppingly majestic sound. The ground opened up under the operation of the complex machinery. Layer by layer, it opened up. The blazing light of lava rose from the crack. Below the two, inside the vast abyss, was a boundless lake of lava. The indescribably large machine could only operate by absorbing the immense heat. Inside the burning lava, gears hundreds of meters tall interlocked with each other and rotated endlessly. Under their guidance, countless steel collided with each other. It was like an unmanned iron factory.

The pope's eyes were not attracted by this strange sight. Instead, he looked deep into the factory to the core enveloped by the gears and machinery. The keeper stood beside him. Looking down at the scenery as well, he smiled.

"Soon…"

-

At dusk, Charles finally got off work at a normal time after days of overtime. The four members of the history department were finally together again. It seemed to be the first time since they came to the Sacred City.

After receiving permission to go out, Abraham asked the embassy to help them book a restaurant. He decided to use his own money on a celebration. In actuality, he had become the deputy director of the Royal Academy of Music's School of Revelations and had some power.

The principal spent his budget like it wasn't money and gave money out happily as well. Now, Abraham's salary and bonuses were all crazy numbers. However, other than his meals, there was not much he spent money on.

He did not like smoking or drinking. He just liked staying in his room and reading. His monthly experiment supplies and consumables were supplied by the academy. After becoming the deputy director, he had the authority to enter the Library too. He had no need to buy books anymore.

Therefore, his salary became a long number in his bank account. From the current trend, it was clear that it would keep accumulating. Used to hard times, Charles became so jealous after seeing Abraham's bank account and keeps asking him for some research funds every month.

However, Charles has probably gotten some dirty money from the Royal Research Institute and Church. He shouldn't be poor but he was never up to anything good. If he had money, he would buy liquor. If he had a fortune, he would fulfil his imagination. He had wasted so much money trying to realize his crazy ideas.

A few days ago, he had even visited the armaments office. He had bought half a discarded Gospel armor and a lot of consumables. Of course, he said that he was helping Ye Qingxuan design a new skeleton suit but the Silent Authority didn't believe him. They had put him under surveillance again. They did not know what he wanted to do by buying such rare battle-level weapons in the Sacred City.

Ye Qingxuan could only worry over this and ask Wolf Flute to make them go easy on him.

Charles was almost close to exploding after days of being pressed down by the Sacred City rules. After this meal, he had said enough nonsense. Ye Qingxuan was forced to be polluted mentally. Abraham just smiled and watched.

In the end, Bai Xi ate everything up silently. When they realized they were hungry, they only saw a bunch of empty plates…

Listening to Charles and Bai Xi argue, Ye Qingxuan and Abraham exchanged glances and smiled. Ye Qingxuan had not experienced something so relaxing in a while. They were arguing but sitting and eating with his professor, Charles, and Bai Xi was calming. It was like a family.

He waved for a server. The server came with an uncomfortable expression.

"Sir…someone just booked the entire restaurant." The server pointed at the room that had suddenly become empty. After saying a bunch of apologetic things like making their meal free, he politely said something along the lines of 'please get out of here quickly.'

"Booked the entire place?" Ye Qingxuan frowned.

Just as he was prepared to speak, someone behind the server said, "Sorry, these are my friends. I booked the place so I could speak with them happily. You may go now."

Shocked, Ye Qingxuan looked up. It was a middle-aged man around forty years old. His hair was already graying. He seemed elegant, graceful, and very likeable. The most shocking thing was that he was an Easterner. And he seemed familiar.

Ye Qingxuan could feel that Bai Xi's expression darkened.

"Sorry to bother you all." Under their confused gazes, the Easterner smiled gently. "Nice to meet you. I am Yunlou Qingshu, an Easterner."

He paused and tossed out the bomb. "At the same time, I am also Bai Xi's father."