Pope Mystic hadn't felt such lighthearted amusement in ages. Teasing his reclusive brother was truly a rare pleasure. Suppressing his laughter, the Pope Mystic looked at the unnaturally pale A-Dunce and sighed. "I've examined him. The meridians are shattered. He should have died long ago. That he held on is partly due to the Golden Elixirs you forced into him, and partly his own formidable constitution. Faint threads connect the severed meridians, barely sustaining his life. I can't guarantee success, but I'll try. Who would have thought this young man could be this powerful, even wounding *you*? It makes Mystic Moon's claims seem more plausible by the day." He turned to Rock and the others. "Leave the Sanctuary. Wait outside."
Rock and his companions hesitated, but the Pope Mystic raised a hand. "I fear the residual waves of my Divine Art might harm you. Go. Rest assured, A-Dunce is crucial to the Holy Church. I won't let him die easily." With a wave of his sleeve and a low incantation, wisps of smoke-like white energy gently enveloped Rock and the others, carrying them out of the grand sanctuary doors. As they landed, they felt the bone-deep exhaustion of their ordeal ease slightly. Awe for this supreme leader of the Church, perhaps the most powerful man on the continent, filled them. Silently, they prayed for A-Dunce.
Alone now with A-Dunce, the Pope Mystic focused. "Saving his life is the simpler part," he murmured to Mystic Far. "Advanced Holy Magic would suffice. But restoring him to his former state, especially his inner power... That's the challenge. His Dantian's energy, slowly replenishing through natural circulation, and a much denser core of power in his chest protected his vital organs. Yet, because his meridians couldn't channel the flow, his vital energies have petrified. Reigniting them will be difficult. Your Divine Guardian Qi could potentially catalyze it. Let us combine our efforts. I mend his broken vessel. You stir his stagnant power. Agreed?" He paused, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I trust old grudges won't interfere?"
Mystic Far snorted, his voice muffled by the deep cowl he'd replaced. "You think like me? Scheming constantly? If I wanted him dead, he would be. Would I have dragged his half-corpse back? Tandor't measure others by your own devious standards." His brother's perpetual smile always struck Mystic Far as deeply manipulative. He glanced at A-Dunce's pallid face. Regardless, this prodigious boy was in this state because of his own provocation. An obligation hung in the air. "Fine," he bit out. "How do we proceed?"
"Swiftly is best. Remember this –" the Pope Mystic's tone turned serious, "– do *not* rush the activation of his inner energy. Only begin once I've sealed his physical wounds, internal and external. Understood?"
"Obviously!" Mystic Far snapped. "Just start!"
Pope Mystic closed his eyes. One hand pressed against his own heart, the other against A-Dunce's forehead. His voice rose in a powerful chant: "All things under Heaven, myriad paths converge. The Divine is the Source, the Sacred is Supreme! O Divine Power coursing through creation! Flow through *me*!" A pillar of golden light descended from the Sanctuary's apex, striking the Pope Mystic's brow. Instantly, he blazed with potent sacred energy. This radiance flowed down his arm, entering A-Dunce. A faint golden aura began to glow around the prone form.
Suddenly, the Pope Mystic raised both hands to the heavens. "O Healing Light that ascends the celestial vault! By the Merciful God's decree, deliver this soul!" His hands became beacons. In the center of the Sanctuary, high above the altar, a brilliant point of white light bloomed. It expanded rapidly, engulfing the Pope Mystic, Mystic Far, and A-Dunce in a column of pure, healing radiance.
Outside the Sanctuary, dark clouds parted under a spear of white holy light, piercing the gloom to continuously feed the ancient structure. The pulse of divine power felt like a manifest miracle, compelling reverence. Every clergyman outside spontaneously began the Prayer Chant of Supplication. Soon, the resonant chorus echoed across the Holy Mountain.
**Elsewhere - Within the Holy Mountain**
Within his chambers, Mystic Night, Blood Skeleton Monk Priest of the First Order, stirred beside his wife, Nyssa. The sudden surge of divine energy and the chorus of prayers broke their meditation.
"Mystic Night?" Nyssa asked, concern etching her features. "What's happening? Why the Prayer Chant?"
"I know not," Mystic Night frowned. "It's not a holy day."
"Could it be Mystic Moon?" Nyssa paled. "Come, we must find out!" The mere mention of their daughter sent a jolt of fear through them. Since her emergence from seclusion a year ago, Mystic Moon had become increasingly enigmatic. A sacred aura clung to her, growing so potent at times that even Nyssa felt unable to meet her daughter's unconsciously radiant gaze. Pope Mystic had spoken vaguely of her progress, stating only that it met his utmost satisfaction. Just recently, he had commanded four Blood Skeleton Monk Priests and twelve White-robed Prelates to unleash the *Sky's Entreaty* chant, directing its immense power into the Celial Cathedral. *Sky's Entreaty* was one of the Church's three Forbidden Chants, capable of gathering staggering divine might for the Pope Mystic to wield – a potential cataclysmic blessing or baneful strike. Since then, the Cathedral had been perpetually shrouded in Sacred Light, its purpose a mystery. Mystic Night and Nyssa suspected it was tied to Mystic Moon, who offered only ambiguous answers about it being necessary for her cultivation when asked the previous day.
They rushed outside. Throngs of clergy chanted as they moved towards the Sanctuary of Supplication. Both saw the celestial anomaly piercing the clouds. Others might wonder; Mystic Night understood its terrifying significance. "It's the *Art of Divine Healing*!" he gasped. "Pope Mystic is using it! That's the supreme restorative magic only he can wield, capable of snatching souls back from the edge if the body hasn't chilled. Who could be so grievously wounded?" He saw the same dread in Nyssa's eyes. Simultaneously, they voiced their fear: "Mystic Moon?" The thought of their daughter lying broken spurred Nyssa into a desperate run towards the Sanctuary, Mystic Night close behind, his own heart pounding.
**The Celial Cathedral - Heart of Power**
Within the luminous grandeur of the Celial Cathedral, bathed in the coalesced divine energy of the *Sky's Entreaty*, Mystic Moon sat deep in meditation. The Prayer Chant reached her, but her consciousness remained fiercely focused on weaving intricate threads of divine energy. This concentrated power was her crucible. Suddenly, a sharp, inexplicable pang pierced her heart, disrupting her focus.
She frowned. Since her baptismal ascension, unparalleled clarity and serenity had fueled her phenomenal progress. In a single year, her mastery approached that of a White-robed Prelate, her understanding potentially surpassing even their rank. She shook her head, an unfamiliar irritation gnawing at her. Ever since Grandfather departed the Cathedral earlier, a strange disquiet had lingered. Now, it intensified. Was something truly amiss?
Driven by an impulse she couldn't ignore, she approached the massive, ornate doors and looked out. The divine beam striking the Sanctuary was unmistakable. "Who?" she murmured, her brow furrowed. "Who would cause Grandfather to expend *that*?" A realization dawned. "This... this wounded soul... I feel it. It concerns *me*. Why?" Her thoughts raced. "Father? Mother? No... they were here yesterday. Father spoke of duties keeping them within the Church confines... It couldn't be them..." Curiosity warred with duty. She longed to seek answers, but Grandfather's stern warning echoed: *"Do NOT leave the Cathedral until the forty-nine days are complete and the gathered energy is assimilated. To leave is to squander this gift."* She could not defy the expectation and sacrifice invested in her. With a deep, steadying breath, Mystic Moon turned her back on the door and the strange pull on her heart. She returned to the space before the towering statue of the Divine Paragon, settled onto the luminous floor, and plunged back into the churning sea of sacred power.
**Inside the Sanctuary**
A-Dunce floated cocooned within a three-meter-thick column of white radiance. Pope Mystic chanted steadily, each syllable guiding the *Art of Divine Healing*. Severed meridians knit back together under the overwhelming restorative force. Life Rockforce energy poured into A-Dunce, flooding his shattered pathways, fortifying weakened tissue. His recovery accelerated.
Satisfied with the progress, the Pope Mystic gave Mystic Far a subtle nod. The Inquisitor Chief leapt upwards, seeming almost weightless. His palm, radiating contained power, struck softly against A-Dunce's lower Dantian. A surge of pure, sanctified Guardian Qi blasted into A-Dunce's abdominal meridians. It flowed through the newly restored channels, converging at the center of the Dantian, colliding with the dormant Silver Spirit Core.
Over the nine days of A-Dunce's suspended animation, the Core's formidable innate recovery abilities had managed to regenerate a significant portion of its energy. Now, stimulated by the potent infusion, it roared to life! The Core blazed, reactivated, and the pulsing flow of Vitalis Energy surged through the freshly mended meridians, hungry for release.
A-Dunce's suspended body jerked violently. Pain contorted his features. The tenderly reforged pathways screamed in protest, nearly fracturing again under the sudden flood. Pope Mystic shot his brother a sharp glare, instantly diverting the remnants of the Divine Healing magic to brace and soothe the fragile meridians, averting catastrophic rupture.
Gradually, a soft white radiance began to emanate *from* A-Dunce himself. His agonized expression smoothed. "Now," the Pope Mystic instructed urgently. "That core in his chest. Activate it – minimally. Only a spark. It seems beyond his conscious control, but this stimulation might prove beneficial later."
Mystic Far acknowledged with a grunt. He propelled himself upwards again, right index finger extended. A concentrated beam of golden light lanced out, striking precisely the center of A-Dunce's sternum. Sanctified Qi plunged deep, merging instantly with the Second Spirit Core left by the old Blademaster. The dense orb vibrated. For the first time, a thick wave of pure gold energy *willed* from its essence rather than simply leaking out during unconscious absorption. This overwhelming Vitalis Rockforce exploded through A-Dunce's entire body, adding a vibrant golden corona to the existing white radiance. The act of releasing this wave seemed to subtly alter the Second Core; while it settled back into its place, no longer merely dormant matter to be absorbed, but a potential wellspring, more accessible now that its innate Qi was momentarily stirred. Mystic Far's supremely controlled strike had been perfect – less, and the core would have slumbered on; more, and its contained power might have violently flooded, tearing A-Dunce apart.
Sensing the profound shift within A-Dunce, the Pope Mystic allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. Guiding the young man with strands of his own divine power, he lowered A-Dunce gently onto the sacred altar once more. A final, meticulous scan confirmed the transformation. "My Art proved effective. His vessel is mended. His innate energies need only flow and strengthen now. Leave him here. Disturbing him prematurely could undo our work." His gaze met Mystic Far's.
**Outside the Sanctuary**
The massive Sanctuary doors finally swung open. Pope Mystic and the shadowed figure of the Inquisitor Chief stepped out into the gathered twilight and the hushed reverence of the assembled clergy. The crowd parted as the Pope Mystic raised his hands, his voice resonant with divine authority. "People of the Faith! The Divine has manifested His mercy. Return to your contemplations! Through diligent pursuit of wisdom, illuminated by the Sacred, shall true understanding be revealed. Go now, Children of the Divine!" The congregation knelt once more, offering a final, thunderous Prayer Chant before dispersing quietly into the gathering gloom.
Zhuo-Yun and young Stellar rushed forward, eyes wide with worry. "Pope Mystic!" Stellar's voice trembled. "A-Dunce...?"
Pope Mystic regarded the young elf kindly. "Peace, child. He is out of danger. He will wake within three days." Relief washed over Stellar and Zhuo-Yun, just as Rock swayed, the last of his adrenaline spent, collapsing in exhaustion beside the already slumbering Rock on the Sanctuary steps.
Blood Skeleton Monk Priest Mystic Night stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Your Holiness."
Pope Mystic nodded. "Mystic Night. Guard the Sanctuary. A-Dunce's body recovers through the Grace bestowed. Allow no disturbances. When he stirs, summon me immediately. I must speak with him." He gestured towards Rock and his companions, slumped where they sat and slept. "His comrades wish to remain close. See they rest comfortably here. Provide sustenance."
"Yes, Your Holiness."
Pope Mystic glanced at his cowled brother. "Come. We have things to discuss." Without waiting for an acknowledgement, he glided towards his private chambers. Mystic Far, with a sound between a grunt and a sigh, followed his brother's figure, the shadow he cast long and deep in the Sanctuary's ethereal light.
**The Fortress of Shadows - Headquarters of the Thieves Guild (Within the Iron Empire)**
Darkness pooled in the high-vaulted chamber, thick as oil.
"Daughter." The voice emanating from the depths of the massive throne-like chair was devoid of warmth. "Your actions these past months betray every tenet of the Guild Code. How many times must I say it? To become Death's Whisper requires a mind cold as glacial ice, focused as a laser. Emotion is an assassin's poison. You think I didn't know? Every step, every kill... monitored. You hunt a grudge, not a mark. From this moment, you are confined for one year. You do *not* leave this stronghold. Do you understand?"
Feng (凤儿 - Mie-Feng) stood before him, face a flawless porcelain mask betraying nothing. A year locked away? Fine. Her thoughts *were* a storm... perhaps the silence would finally calm them. Let oblivion claim her, if it must.
Silence met his pronouncement. The Master leaned forward slightly, a shadowed silhouette against the perpetual gloom. "Child," the voice softened a fraction, losing none of its edge. "I know you burn to avenge your Fourth Uncle. But shadows deepen across the continent. Recall the Blood Skeleton Sun? Guild survival demands we fade deeper into the murk. We court *no* conflicts, settle *no* scores that draw unwanted eyes. We become ghosts among ghosts. It is *because* of this shadow-dancing strategy that I let you sabotage those messages meant for the Cutthroats' Guild." A cold amusement seeped into his tone. "Let the assassins boil in their own paranoia and incompetence. The old serpent always hungered to swallow us whole – he thinks me blind? Hmph." He paused, studying his daughter's impassive face. "Ah, you likely haven't heard. Our eyes report the quarry you stalked... was taken."
Feng's mask didn't crack, but her posture became infinitely still. "Taken?"
"By the Holy Church. Severely wounded, the report says. If he lives, he'll likely be a cripple." The Master leaned back. "Connections to the Church... possibly one of their own agents all along. Why else target the Empire's shadow web? Consider Fourth Uncle's ledger balanced... indirectly." He dismissed her with a flick of his hand. "Go. Forget the boy. Remember my command: *One year*. Not a step beyond."
"Understood... Master." Feng turned and moved towards the exit. Her footsteps were silent on the cold stone. But within the steel cage of her composure, a traitorous pang, sharp and inexplicable, pierced her at the news of A-Dunce's crippling fate. *Why...?*
**Three Days Later - Sanctuary of Supplication**
Awareness seeped back into A-Dunce like a slow tide. Pain radiated through his entire being – a deep, insistent ache saturating muscles and bone. Vitality sluggishly circulated within him, flowing through pathways stiff and unfamiliar after disuse. Consciousness sharpened, bringing not just sensation, but memory crashing back. He snapped his eyes open, the sanctuary's filtered light momentarily blinding. Fear, raw and primal, ripped through his chest.
"BIG BRO! STARR! RUN!" The desperate shout tore from his raw throat, echoing in the vast space. He jackknifed upright, gasping, phantom images of the Inquisitor Chief's terrifying power flooding his senses.
"A-Dunce!" Rock's voice, thick with emotion, cut through the lingering panic. "You're awake! Thank the heavens!" Relief warred with the exhaustion etched deep on his rugged features.
A-Dunce blinked, taking in the surroundings: towering arched ceilings, the sacred altar beneath him, and the group gathered close – Rock, the still-slumbering Rock, Zhuo-Yun, Stellar, Blood Skeleton Monk Priest Mystic Night (whose presence instantly chilled the relief), and a figure radiating serene authority in elaborate gold-embroidered robes and a heavy, ornate crown. *They were all here. They were safe.* The terror receded, leaving a profound wave of exhaustion. He slumped slightly. "I... I'm not dreaming?"
Rock stepped forward, clasping A-Dunce's forearm with bruising strength. His voice cracked. "Brother... you scared ten years off my life. If you'd died... I..." He couldn't finish the sentence, the depth of his feeling clear in his damp eyes.
A-Dunce managed a weak, genuine smile. "Big Brother Rock... look. I'm fine?" He looked past him to the imposing man. "Where...? Your Eminence?" He recognized Mystic Night but deferred to the highest authority present.
Pope Mystic's smile was beatific. "Welcome back to the world of the living, young A-Dunce. You reside within the heart of the Holy Church – the Sanctuary of Supplication."
Rock quickly summarized the events since the cataclysmic duel: the Inquisitor Chief's intervention, the desperate journey, the Pope Mystic's intervention. A-Dunce absorbed it slowly, the pieces clicking into place. He rubbed his smooth scalp, feeling the unfamiliar sensation. "So he was... testing me?" He felt a flash of residual frustration, quickly dampened by profound gratitude. He shifted to kneel awkwardly before the Pope Mystic. "Your Holiness... thank you. For your mercy and healing." His words were rough, heartfelt.
"You are welcome, A-Dunce," the Pope Mystic's voice resonated with kindness. "Our actions placed you in harm's way; restoration is our responsibility. Indeed, the robust foundation of your own inner strength, the 'Vitalis Path,' proved indispensable." He gestured gently for A-Dunce to rise. "How do you feel?"
A-Dunce obeyed, testing his limbs. "Weak... Your Holiness. Shaky." He frowned, trying to pinpoint the pervasive lassitude.
"That is to be expected," the Pope Mystic nodded sagely. "Your lifeforce sustained you through sheer power for many days. Sustenance was absent. Weakness is natural." His gaze swept over A-Dunce's companions, settling back on the young man. "Blood Skeleton Monk Priest Mystic Night will see you fed and rested. When you are stronger, tomorrow perhaps, we shall speak further." The implication was clear but gently delivered.
Blood Skeleton Monk Priest Mystic Night bowed slightly. "As Your Holiness commands."
A-Dunce met the Pope Mystic's calm, benevolent gaze. Warmth spread through him, a profound sense of safety and reverence he hadn't felt since his master disappeared. Pope Mystic nodded once more, acknowledging the unspoken gratitude in A-Dunce's eyes, then seemed to dissolve in a flash of radiant light.
Silence hung for a moment. Then Blood Skeleton Monk Priest Mystic Night turned. His expression, serene moments before the Pope Mystic, was now carved from ice. "Follow me. Food and rest await." His voice offered no welcome.
The Blood Skeleton Monk Priest led them from the Sanctuary's solemn grandeur to the austere, functional accommodations of the Pilgrim's Haven, assigning them three simple rooms. Rock and Rock, days of accumulated exhaustion crashing down, stumbled into their shared chamber and were unconscious within moments. Zhuo-Yun and Stellar weren't much better off; Zhuo-Yun sternly guided the reluctant but visibly drained Stellar to their room, needing rest to stabilize her fragile lineage. Stellar cast one last worried glance at A-Dunce before the door shut.
Blood Skeleton Monk Priest Mystic Night delivered A-Dunce to the door of his spartan cell. A silent attendant brought a bowl of bland, nourishing broth and simple bread. "Eat. Sleep. Tomorrow." Mystic Night's tone clipped off any potential conversation. He turned sharply to leave, the lingering resentment from A-Dunce's past defiance practically radiating off him in the sterile hallway.
"Car... Blood Skeleton Monk Priest!" A-Dunce called out, the old familiar address almost slipping out, halted by the man's palpable frost.
Mystic Night paused, his back rigid. He did not turn. "You will address me as Blood Skeleton Monk Priest or as Mystic Night, Initiate. The familiarity of 'uncle' is unearned and inappropriate. State your query quickly."
The words stung. "I... Thank you. For... your aid." A-Dunce fumbled, the Pope Mystic's compassion making the Blood Skeleton Monk Priest's hostility even more jarring. "But... Mystic Moon? Is she... here? Is she... safe?"
Mystic Night turned his head just enough for A-Dunce to see the glacial disapproval in his profile. "Pope Mystic Heir is engaged in sacred rites. Her safety is beyond reproach. Concern yourself with your *own* recovery. Tomorrow, you answer *Pope Mystic*." Without another word, he strode away, leaving A-Dunce alone in the quiet room, the scent of the broth suddenly less appealing. The shadow of the duel, the Inquisitor Chief's terrifying power, the Pope Mystic's kindness, and the Blood Skeleton Monk Priest's unforgiving coldness – they swirled within him as he faced another night of uncertainty in the heart of the Holy Mountain.