Mansra lifted the cup emblazoned with the Floating City emblem, slowly placing it down. He gently drew the curtains, and the elderly butler entered, speaking softly into his ear.
Mansra's expression shifted, and as he gripped the cup, the emblem on the back of his hand involuntarily revealed itself.
He glanced at the cup in his hand before setting it aside, then briskly made his way to the mansion's basement.
In the dim light of the oil lamp, a figure with brown, curly hair lay on the bed, bandages wrapped around his body.
Upon seeing Mansra enter, the man turned his head toward him, and Mansra's steps came to an abrupt halt.
"The nobility of the Holy Tonian Kingdom is rotten to the core," Puld muttered with a deep sense of resignation.
The words hit Mansra like a hammer, and for a moment, it felt as though he were standing in a tribunal, surrounded by a crowd of accusing eyes. An overwhelming sense of shame washed over him, so intense that he nearly considered taking his own life.
"You don't understand! Everything I've done... it's for the glory of the family!" Mansra screamed hysterically, raising his hand. The emblem on the back of his hand flared brightly.
The half-circle and triangle emblem, when combined, seemed to channel some unseen force.
In an instant, Mansra's fury subsided as he regained control of the power coursing through him. He glared with growing resentment at the bedridden Puld.
"Defeated by Xaya… Are you that eager to throw your life away?" Mansra asked, his anger now tempered but his voice still sharp as he slightly raised his chin.
"You still lack the strength," Puld replied, extending his hand and staring at his pale, delicate palm, a hint of melancholy in his words. "In the end, I was no match for Xaya."
When Xaya released his grip, Puld had been overwhelmed by an unstoppable surge of holy power. It had destroyed most of him, and had it not been for a last-minute rescue and the implantation of a fragment of an ancient sea demon's spine, he would have perished.
"They gave you two choices: continue pursuing Xaya as your target and forge the sword to slay the gods, or leave," Mansra remarked.
"I chose to continue," Puld chuckled bitterly. He had once been overly arrogant, believing that Xaya could never awaken the divine and that with his newfound youth, he could defeat him.
Once the sword of the gods was forged, he would have used it to reverse his transformation, becoming a heteromorph and advancing to the 'Ascension' stage.
It was a difficult task, however—holding the spine of the ancient sea demon while planning to kill a near-divine cultivator, all while maintaining his faith, seemed nearly impossible.
But now, with the spine grafted into him, Puld had broken through another barrier. And with Xaya's reappearance, there was no doubt that it would affect him.
Unfortunately, the opportunity for a meteoric rise was gone.
"Then stay here," Mansra said, his tone cold. "If you make any noise and draw attention, you'll never get another chance."
He turned and left without another word.
"My lord, there are cultivators arriving," the butler reported, approaching Mansra.
"I know," Mansra replied, an involuntary grimace crossing his face at the mention of cultivators.
He had previously used the emblem to channel the power of achievements, and the Church would have a record of it. Nearby cultivators would inevitably be alerted to investigate.
This situation filled Mansra with great discomfort. The Church had effectively curbed the power of the nobility in every possible way, and despite securing most of the resources, his family was still helplessly slipping into decline.
"It is the tragedy of the nobility," he muttered bitterly. "The achievements my ancestors fought for, now subject to the scrutiny of others."
He dismissed the inquisitive cultivators under the guise of conducting an experiment and watched them leave with seething hatred in his eyes.
"A bunch of traitors and scum," Mansra muttered, quickly suppressing his anger as he returned to his study to make arrangements.
Roya had been anything but peaceful lately. Ever since the witch doctor's death, the occasional martial law had made his smuggling operations increasingly difficult.
While nobles could ignore curfews and martial law to go out at night, being spotted in certain areas could still lead to significant problems.
There were two boundaries between the Church and the nobility. The first boundary was the openly illegal acts. Everyone knew about these, and many cultivators turned a blind eye.
The second boundary was when one crossed the first boundary—they could not let ordinary people know about it, especially not shout it from the rooftops. In other words, the Church and the stationed soldiers' dignity were the second boundary.
Smuggling violated the first boundary, but this could only be done at night, as the outer walls were closed during the day, and no one was allowed to enter or exit.
If a convoy carrying goods was seen entering or exiting, it would be a direct slap in the face to the Church and the soldiers. So, as long as the operation took place quietly at night, they would turn a blind eye.
But if it became widely known and undermined the credibility of the Church and the military's regulations, then the second boundary would be crossed.
And now, with the city under martial law, trying to smuggle goods out would cross the second boundary.
If they couldn't smuggle out, then they'd have to smuggle in.
Mansra had already received a letter. The caravan he had dispatched was on its way back with a batch of goods.
He couldn't afford to lose these goods, no matter what.
Gripping his teeth, Mansra ordered, "Have Jin come here at once. This must not fail."
In the basement, Puld chuckled and shook his head. These nobles were too arrogant.
They enjoyed their privileges without question, yet resented the constraints imposed by the Church. They believed themselves to be above others, doing despicable deeds while holding onto a sense of superiority. They were consumed by ugliness.
"Human nature is truly greedy—forever insatiable. God can save no one," Puld said, his face filled with sorrow.
"Faith is but a means of self-deception. The gods are nothing more than an unseen face, and the so-called incarnation of the divine is but an illusion observed by those who lull themselves into delusion."
"Faith will never save humanity."
"Has the time been confirmed?" Adam sat up, looking toward Jin, who stood not far from him, relaying the arrival time of Mansra's smuggling fleet, along with the area he was responsible for.
"They'll enter the city the night after tomorrow. Be careful. I'm only handling the section through the forest. You'd better keep your people out of my path, or I won't hold back."
"I understand," Adam nodded, his urgency growing. His position had already been exposed.
If he was right, the individual who had gone to Xitu Kingdom because of the ancient sea demon would still send people over. The fact that Fura had been called away was an early warning.
"But I don't know who it is yet." Adam glanced at the small birds perched by the bed and the cat sleeping on the cabinet.
He began to plan again. If it was someone else, his identity might still be concealed, but if it was the other individual, based on Adam's understanding of him, that person would care little for subtlety and would come searching in the fastest manner possible.
"If they know that 'Adam' exists in Roya, they will inevitably realize that Adam is Neisser."
"Adam's identity is too easily dismantled—there are definite risks to eliminate."
Adam looked at Jin, who was now measuring the distance between his head and the doorframe, appearing puzzled, as if wondering whether the door had gotten taller or he had become shorter.
"Master Jin."
"Ahem." Jin immediately lowered his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. "What is it, Neisser?"
"I need your help with something," Adam said with a narrowed smile.
Seeing that smile, Jin suddenly felt as though he had been caught in a scheme.