As a streak of black light drilled into the room, Snow, who had been lying corpse-like on the bed, immediately bounced up, casually sealing the window gaps tightly, then extended his hand to gently scratch the little one's chin.
As the little one let out a soft "meow~" sound, the originally exceptionally lively eyes gradually shed their otherworldly divine radiance, leaving only hints of shrewdness, proving that this little cat was far from ordinary.
Snow smiled as he rubbed the little one's head, replenishing the cat's energy, then took out a bag of cat food from his suitcase. After the little one began eating, Snow once again started spacing out.
Although the plan had been set long ago, when it came time to actually implement it, he still felt somewhat hesitant.
He had to admit, this was a risky move—more dangerous than having Tris rob the Antigonus family's notebook, more dangerous than timing the ambush on Hanass Vincent and Sirius Arapis, more dangerous than facing Dunn Smith directly in a dream.
With the slightest carelessness, what awaited him next would be the basement of the Church of the Evernight Goddess.
But...
"There's no other choice."
Snow spread his arms and fell backward, lying in a spread-eagle position on the bed. Counting from when he transmigrated, it had already been a month.
In other words, it had also been a month since he drank the Secret Suppliant potion.
One month, for most Beyonders, wasn't considered too long a time, but for a Secret Suppliant of the Aurora Order, it was quite a dangerous deadline.
And the reason lay in the acting method.
The acting method was a precious treasure for the vast majority of Beyonders. With this technique, they could relatively safely avoid the risk of losing control, but for Secret Suppliants, the acting method was a huge trap.
Because the acting principles of Secret Suppliants were simply too straightforward—
Just like their name suggested, they only needed to devoutly pray to hidden existences.
And as members of the Aurora Order, this extreme cult organization, whom to pray to was naturally self-evident.
But the problem lay precisely here.
The True Creator, as a Sequence 0 True God, belonged to the top tier among hidden existences available for prayer. Precisely because of this, the acting feedback obtained from praying to him was simply perfect. Even the most obtuse Secret Suppliant, as long as they prayed to him with sincere devotion, could completely digest their potion within two months.
But conversely, if a Secret Suppliant hadn't completed digestion after two months had passed...
That meant they weren't devout enough.
And for an extreme cult like the Aurora Order, if one was labeled as insufficiently devout, the consequences were imaginable.
During this month, Snow had tried imitating Mr. Fool by praying to himself, attempting to respond to himself through the status of "A White Horse Is Not a Horse" to gain feedback. But whether it was because his pathway didn't belong to this world, or because he was clearly aware he wasn't some high-level existence, or for some other reason, although Snow could use the power of "A White Horse Is Not a Horse" to create charms, the feedback he received was negligible.
Later, he had also considered whether he could find other acting principles, such as preaching or something similar. Though it wasn't completely useless, it was barely better than nothing. To this day, Snow's potion digestion progress hadn't even reached one-tenth.
Even the protagonist Mr. Fool, who was "three years among the Orthodox Gods, five years among the Outer Deities," had spent a month and a half on Sequence 9 acting. This month that had already passed was the final deadline Snow had set for himself.
Now, everything had yet to see a turning point, and he had finally reached the time to make a choice.
Using a coin infused with spirituality to seal the room, Snow drew out the three-hundred-year-old silver knife and stuck it on the table. Then, he actively activated "A White Horse Is Not a Horse," unleashing the ability to substitute concepts.
Feeling the spirituality in his body begin to stir, Snow began silently reciting in his heart—
"Derrick was able to directly pray to Mr. Fool because he relied on the ancient artifact in his hand. The knife in my hand is also an ancient artifact, so I can also directly pray to Mr. Fool through this knife."
After repeating this several times, this sentence began to transform into layers upon layers of whispers echoing by Snow's ears. Accompanied by the stabbing pain from his brain, a thread of connection began to intersect between the dagger and somewhere above the spirit world, and Snow also began to recite the lines he had prepared long ago—
"Great Being, I beseech Your response. I beseech Your gaze."
...
"Another prayer?" Klein, who was still helplessly dealing with the issue of "not understanding foreign languages," was just about to leave the gray fog when he discovered another deep red star beginning to contract and expand.
"This time it won't be another one using Ancient Dragonese language, will it?"
Klein grumbled inwardly but still chose to extend his spirituality and touch that deep red star. Subsequently, blurred and distorted images appeared in his vision—
It was a young man with what appeared to be short black hair, and in front of him should be a pure silver dagger.
Above his head, a white cloud that looked like a galloping horse flickered in and out of view, whether due to his sequence or some Beyonder item's influence.
This young man wore relatively casual home clothes, and his surroundings were simple and tidy. From the room's furnishings, it appeared to be a guest room in some inn.
Klein had planned to observe more, but as the young man's voice reached his ears, he immediately lost interest in watching, because he heard several words that struck heavily at his heart—"An evil god is about to descend upon Tingen."
However, when he intended to listen more carefully, he suddenly discovered that this young man had already stood up, saying in a dejected tone:
"Failed again. Is this ritual really effective? Should I report to the orthodox churches? But I've already... Or should I abandon the honor of the Panredax family and devote myself to the evil god... No, absolutely not! Under no circumstances can I pray to the True Creator..."
Watching this young man's words become increasingly hysterical, even changing from Ancient Hermes to Loen Common Tongue, Klein's brow furrowed tightly. The slightly familiar surname Panredax he couldn't recall for the moment, but he understood several words like "orthodox churches," "report," "True Creator," and combined with the earlier statement about an evil god descending upon Tingen, a strong sense of crisis immediately surfaced in his mind.
However, this young man had already left the state of prayer, and presumably the connection would break before long. Relying on covert observation to gather intelligence seemed no longer possible.
Taking a deep breath, Klein lightly tapped the edge of the bronze long table, his mind already made up—
Although it was somewhat reckless, since it concerned Tingen, he had to find out the truth.
...
"Did it fail? Indeed, it's impossible to succeed on the first try. Should I cause some big trouble tonight and then use that as an opportunity to sell to Mr. Fool tomorrow?" Having finished his act, Snow still hadn't noticed any changes and felt somewhat dejected, though failure was already within his calculations. With the attitude of completing the act thoroughly, he returned to the table and was about to pull out the dagger when he suddenly saw a burst of deep red light explode from within the blade.
This light flowed like water, instantly engulfing Snow's figure. When he regained his thinking ability, he found himself already within that magnificent palace supported by gigantic stone pillars. An ancient and mottled bronze long table extended before him, and across the table, a figure shrouded in gray fog was examining him with an indiscernible gaze.
(End of Chapter)