Shadow of the Evil God

"Okay, let's just assume they're different," he said. "Then tell me, how did Corini teach you all that different knowledge?"

"We mages have a way of passing on true knowledge," she said with a strange sense of pride. "True knowledge is never written down, so ordinary people will never know it."

Cesar, the worldly man, blinked and said, "You promised to teach me the truth and guide me to the path."

"Uh...did I promise?" Phils' eyes were vague.

"Yes, you did. I don't think you'll tell me that when you made the promise, you didn't think of this at all, and you just made a promise to me casually?"

Seeing Phils's discomfort, Cesar remained calm and simply got out of bed. Shortly after, he brought a wooden basin of warm water from the hallway and placed it beside the bed. Phils looked at him in confusion, "What does this mean?"

"Since you agreed to teach me, I should be considered your student," Cesar shrugged, wringing out a wet towel and handing it to her. "Students help disabled teachers pack their bags and take care of their daily needs. You've done this before, haven't you? When accepting students, do you mages have any complicated rules? For example, the student can't be too old, and the teacher can't be too young, and so on?"

For some reason, this joking statement surprised Phils.

"No." After a long pause, she finally said, "We mages who no longer have a school don't have many rules. Maybe there were some in the past, but they no longer exist in this era. So you don't need to call me, uh, teacher."

"You don't like this name?"

"Not really... Don't you think it's weird? You're older than me."

"It's normal for people with little knowledge to call those with more knowledgeable people teachers. It's much more normal than relying on age and qualifications. I think there are few people in Neuen who can surpass the young Phils in demonology, right?" Cesar said to her half-jokingly.

"That's because no one learns it," she muttered. "People think it's heresy, and even the mages lie to protect themselves."

"That's why I'm asking you for your advice."

"I need to make some preparations... We need to cast a spell to impart true knowledge."

......

Perhaps because her spell to impart true knowledge was complex, Cesar waited from dawn until noon. As a purchased slave, he couldn't leave Libio's residence for the time being and could only wait patiently.

The bedroom's brown curtains were thick, completely shut out when drawn, as if it were midnight. In the dim glow of the kerosene lamp, he saw a large circle of human blood gradually forming on the floor. Since there were no freshly dead animals, he had used a small cup of blood he had donated in the early morning.

Looking more closely, the so-called circle is actually a lot of complicated and bloated hieroglyphs, which look like densely packed spider corpses.

Feeling depressed, Cesar got out of bed, took a few steps, parted the curtains a little, and peered outside through the crack in the shutters. It was a rainy day, pouring down like a bucket. Through the hazy veil of rain, he heard shouting and yelling from the street below. As expected, it was another gang of local slum dwellers who had kidnapped someone, haggling with a human trafficking ring.

He heard Firth's soft voice calling him over, so he lowered the curtain and stepped into the circle carved in blood. He sat down with her, facing each other. The young mage, with a habitual gesture, revealed a look of weariness and fatigue. She stretched, crossing her delicate, nimble fingers above her head, as if she were still a little confused.

In order not to block her sight, she pulled her hair up and fixed it on top of her head when she was carving the magic circle, revealing her snow-white forehead. However, there were still a few strands of flaxen hair hanging down, hanging on her long eyelashes, which often made her

Shake your head and toss your hair to the side.

Firth muttered something inaudible under her breath as she leaned forward to fill in the last few missing hieroglyphs. Her clothes were pulled tight, revealing the outline of her slightly raised shoulder blades, thin and narrow. The gray robe clung to her still-growing figure.

The contours of the curved back are very soft, much like a piece of ivory, gradually becoming thinner downwards, revealing an exceptionally soft waist.

She hadn't meant to, but her movements had a certain alluring charm, gloomy and psychedelic, and her unique identity gave her an air of mystery. She might have been quite attractive to some nobles with a penchant for the occult, such as the one with ties to the grassland people.

After completing the circle, Fils began chanting. It was the same eerie whispering he'd heard when he'd escaped the castle, a sound not human. Cesar felt the syllables spread like a spiderweb around the circle, swirling with dust as they descended from mid-air toward him. The air grew stagnant, making it difficult to breathe, but it also grew warm, and his head felt dizzy, as if he'd been drinking.

She held out her hand to him, fingers spread wide. A phantom amethyst gradually emerged in her palm, its various colored arcs interweaving and crisscrossing, as if in a dream. Cesar felt his skin tingle, and everything in his vision seemed to dissolve, as if the world were an oil painting that someone had poured water on, sending muddy paint dripping down.

True knowledge... What exactly is true knowledge? If it's not conveyed through words, then what is it, fragments of memory?

Chapter 13: Lost Demon

She continued to chant the spell, and Cesar felt the dissolving room become more and more distorted, and as the spell continued, they gradually outlined another shape.

He tasted the cold, damp air, felt the wet sand under his feet, and saw the endless dark sea and the starless night sky... Was this the memory of the ancients being injected into his mind?

Cesar didn't know much about the way they passed on knowledge, so he didn't dare to make any judgment. Just based on this method, they completely avoided book printing and school education, and completely confined themselves to the ancient apprenticeship system.

Of course, considering it from another perspective, since their true knowledge will not be spread in written form, many things have become their unique secrets.

"This is a fragment of true knowledge passed down by my ancestors," Firth said to him. "Hier is over there."

Cesar suppressed his thoughts and only then noticed the black tide hovering in the night sky. A few water droplets condensed before his eyes. Everything was still. He looked up into the depths of the sea and immediately saw the thing... It was indeed a demon.

It appeared as tall as a towering ancient tree, possessing a body roughly humanoid. However, upon closer inspection, he discovered that this seemingly humanoid form was actually a hollow shell formed by countless black vines, with a faint blue glow visible through the gaps between the vines. Its head was strange, with a soft and slender jaw, but hollow from the jaw upwards, shaped like a wine glass, the outer ring of which was filled with a deep blue mist like stardust.

Although the world here was motionless, behind its back lay an indefinite number of arms, shaped like curved branches. The number of arms changed every moment, sometimes two, sometimes six, sometimes more than ten. The number of joints in each arm also changed, sometimes two, sometimes four, and then seven.

It seemed that every moment Cesar tried to gaze at it, the number of its arms and joints would increase or decrease, making it impossible to obtain accurate observation results.

From its hips down, the roots spread out like a snake, the ends of which were somehow invisible, even in a still world.

Phils sat on the gravel with her knees together, smoothing her hair up and pretending to be nonchalant, as if she was used to such scenes.

"We call it the Lost Demon Xiel," she said, a hint of boasting in her voice. "Do you know how far this is from the secular image of Xiel?"

"I don't know," Cesar shrugged. "So why do you call her a demon?"

"Well..." Firth was immediately stumped by the question. She paused for a long moment, her eyes unfocused, as if she hadn't even considered the question. "Because the demons summoned by our ancestors said that all gods are demons," she finally struggled to form an answer, seeming unsure of herself.

Cesar followed his train of thought and continued asking questions. "Then why do you call those strange beings you summon... demons? Do they call themselves demons? I remember Baiyan also calling the Faceless Demons, but I've never heard Gouzi call himself that."

"I don't know!" Phils was pressed by the continuous questions. She even waved her arms. "You tell me this, how can I answer you?"

Cesar raised his hands in surrender. "Please be patient. We're just discussing this. You know, scholars exchange knowledge and confirm each other's views in this way, don't you?" When she calmed down a little, he continued, "I heard from that exiled noble from the Kasar Empire that the various churches call them demons, and that those demons corrupt the soul with obscene words. What do you think this statement means?"

The idea of ​​exchanging knowledge effectively soothed her. "Because they say they and the gods are essentially the same, essentially the same."

"That is to say, because they only need

When summoned, they slander the gods, so the various sects call them demons?"

"Uh... you've confused me a little." Phils said. No one would ever ask such a question. "But, maybe that's it. Maybe. I didn't

I've summoned demons before, but I don't know too many details myself."

"So the sequence of events is that the strange creatures you summoned claimed that the gods were of the same essence as themselves. After that, various sects accused them of being demons, spreading fallacies that would corrupt the soul. The result is that both sides are accusing each other of being demons, and neither side thinks they are the devil?"

Firth was becoming increasingly troubled, her brow furrowed. "Perhaps. But that's what Corini taught me before: God is a demon. Those who respond to the summons of demonology are demons. Those invisible and intangible beings are all demons."

"Then, is it possible that Corini is just a country wizard who asserts everything based on a fragmented knowledge heritage. Although she claims to have a school of thought, she actually cannot represent the school's past glory at all?"

"Eh?" Her eyes widened. Cesar knew that this had touched upon something in her heart that was beyond doubt, and if he pointed it out casually, it would probably make her mentally unstable.

Before Firth could react and realize that she was also a country wizard, Cesar added something to cushion her emotions: "Think of it this way. If we reach Itris and contact the Origin Society there, and if things go well, you will no longer be someone Corini can compare to."

"Um......."

That being said, the difficulty and impracticality of seeking knowledge from the Origin Society were both unimaginable. Before she could dwell on this matter, Cesar decided to change the subject: "Do you know how the secular world describes Xiel? People think of her as a woman of extraordinary grace."

Phils didn't react. She hugged her knees and stared at her bare feet, pressed together, her big toes twisted together. The feet were slender, the toes long and thin, and looked fair and nimble, completely different from Cesar's impression of her. She opened her mouth slightly, wanting to say something, but no words came out.

This was clearly something she knew, and she wanted to teach him like a mentor, but he dominated the direction of the conversation, which made her feel a little frustrated.

"Not really," Fils said finally. "It's just how secular people see it. Theologians of all religions certainly know that God's appearance is very different from that of humans."

"So, they don't actually want to be called demons, but you treat them all as demons. This demonology is probably some forbidden heresy, right?"

Phils looked even more depressed. "That's right," she said, as if trying to find a way to defend herself. "There are many reasons, not just political and religious ones."

"What else?"

"Using spells from the realm of true knowledge can easily damage reality, and drawing in demons can cause even greater damage. My ancestors said that summoning a demon is like pressing a stone onto the thin fabric of the material world. The older and more terrifying the demon, the heavier the stone. The heavier the stone, the more exaggerated the indentation, causing even ordinary people to feel extreme discomfort."

Cesar pondered the meaning of this. "Then why do you call Xiel the Lost Demon? What does this "lost" even mean?"

"Have you heard that passage?" Fils paused, her eyes unfocused, as if she were trying to recall some unfamiliar phrases:

"The Lost Demon lurks in the sea of ​​void, shrouded in terror. Around it, countless lost souls, their minds obliterated, spin and laugh wildly, like black rotten leaves in the plague season, without beginning or end."

To make her argument more convincing, she whispered a few words, and the still world took a few steps forward. A moment later, Cesar saw countless amorphous masses floating around it, as black as coal, like the meteorite belts orbiting a planet. Some were as massive as rocks, others as tiny as wheat awns. Sometimes they crawled like maggots, sometimes streaked by like comets, sometimes mingled together in hundreds, sometimes thousands, and then dispersed into a cloud of dust.

"What's the specific explanation?" Cesar asked her. "You don't want me to interpret the scriptures, do you?"

Just how authentic was the so-called true knowledge of the mages? Were these video recordings truly authentic? He himself had lived through a time when false images were fabricated in large numbers. Who could guarantee the moral standards of the world's mages, and assert that they wouldn't develop techniques to tamper with true knowledge?

"What specific explanation? Isn't that enough?" Firth's eyes widened, her annoyance expressing the fact that she only understood this one scripture description. "This is the result of my ancestors collecting evidence from multiple demons and various sources."

This was indeed standard paganism. "It's a miracle the world's religions haven't united to exterminate you," Cesar said. "I hope you don't spread these rumors."

"Actually, demonology isn't just a tradition of our school..." Firth muttered, subconsciously biting her fingernails. "Not every school knows the secrets of demonology, and even if one does, they'll keep it secret. I heard that. And I won't pass it on casually. I'm telling you this because you drifted from the outside world."

"Then what do you know about the priests of Xiel?" Cesar said, looking at the fake Libio. The answers provided by the dog were all from a secular perspective.

Fragments of information, various descriptions contradict each other, and people from different classes hold different opinions. Of course, she can't be blamed. After all, the memories she absorbed were from ordinary people, far away from Xiyeer.

"I heard that the priests are a little...

They're crazy, like they're always drunk. People only see them when they're presiding over sacrificial ceremonies; the rest of the time, it's their deputies who are doing the work. Maybe the priests are truly crazy, or maybe they're just pretending to be crazy or drunk. I don't know. Why are you asking this?"

Cesar told her about Libio's plot and his suspicions about the house of joy. "Soon, this place may have a new group of secular agents, and then the local priest of the god of joy will definitely make a statement," he said.

"Do you think we can leave the city through the passage to the Great Temple of Xiel?" Firth asked. Her eyes widened. "How can you guarantee that this passage is reliable? They are followers of the Lost Demon!"

Cesar thought this man's religious prejudice was a bit extreme. "I can't believe anything is more dangerous than staying in Count Thane's castle, especially one lurking among the steppe spies. When the siege comes, you never know who will start the massacre. With the steppe people as an excuse, why doesn't old Thane take advantage of the chaos to create more disasters to deceive people?"

"Those priests usually pretend to be crazy, but once they discover something is amiss, they simply make the disobedient agents disappear." She continued to emphasize her point, completely ignoring Cesar's explanation. "Do you really think we can negotiate with them?"

"I am now the little Borgia," was all he could say.

"Young Borgia?"

"People of status and standing think I am the illegitimate son of Earl Thane."

"This is fake, a rumor! You have no relatives or friends in this world!"

"Think of it this way—as long as it serves the interests of some people, whether something is true or false doesn't matter. Once a rumor spreads widely, even the person involved will find it difficult to clarify."

"Then tell me, what interests do the priests of Hier have in the young Borgia? Wouldn't it be enough for them to just get rid of this gang? This has already happened once many years ago, and no one knew about it. If you follow these mercenaries and lose everything, no one will know either."

"Isn't the noble status of being the descendant of a powerful local lord enough? This fictitious identity is what I need. It's not even an imposter, because there is no such thing as a Little Borgia."

"I don't understand that," Fils said, "but I don't think so."

Cesar detected a subtle hint of contempt in her words. "You have no respect for secular rulers?"

"Of course, it's the same for everyone," she said.

"Including the widely praised founding monarch?"

"What's the difference?" Firth asked rhetorically. "Aren't there many dynasties in history that had no impact on the world from their founding to their destruction? Thousands of years ago, they were riding horses and fighting each other to the death wearing scrap metal. Now, they're still riding horses and fighting each other to the death wearing scrap metal."

Cesare knew that the girl was decisive and quick to judge, but she was always driven by her own emotions and feelings. She had thought that the rumor about the young Borgia was not feasible, not because she had made careful considerations, but because she was prejudiced against the rulers of various territories and believed that anything related to them was unfeasible.

"It's not completely insignificant..." he said, "Do you know where Noyen's feces flow now?"

"Uh, poop? Why poop?"

"Have you ever observed the living conditions of the locals in Lower Noyen?"

"Well...I'm just looking for a way out of the city."

"I saw some locals set up guilds to collect dung from residents and livestock. They even formed gangs to collect dung, just like the port porters, and used special ox carts to transport it. Most of this dung flowed to the saltpeter pits outside the city, and was eventually made into gunpowder, which was in short supply."

"Making saltpeter..."

Firth seemed to understand something. It seemed she had studied this subject, but only in theory, with no understanding of the actual operation. Her yearning for the civilized world was more of an emotional expression, without any real observation or understanding of the way people in a certain region survived.

One thing that hasn't been mentioned is that the local excrement collection gang in Noien is a well-known criminal gang. One of their most notorious tactics is to transport several trucks of excrement filled with maggots and pile them in front of someone's door.

"I think," Cesar said, "that with the population of this city, the manure they produce can provide a considerable amount of gunpowder. Have you noticed where the local coal and iron mines are going? In fact, many things are changing quietly. You may not notice it, but as the lord of the city, old Sean is definitely not just obsessed with rituals."

What Cesar didn't mention was that, to raise funds, the old count likely didn't use most of the gunpowder for military purposes. Instead, he sold it to areas where the Cathar Empire was already at war, using the supplies that should have been used to defend the borders to fill his own financial holes. Even if Sean didn't do this, he would probably have used it elsewhere.

Because, if it weren't for Sean's own problems and his reputation for excessive wealth, the king would not have levied heavy taxes on such a border city. The most likely reason for the king to do this is

He couldn't stand Sean, and at the instigation of Sean's brothers, he wanted to deal with this old man.

When Sean steps down, the only legitimate heir will take the throne as the city lord with the promise made to the king.

Thinking about it this way, Sean's blood relatives are related to the grassland people who are their enemies for generations. It is very likely that they are against

The steppe people might have made a promise. If this attack could undermine Sean's prestige, would his own brothers take the opportunity to revolt and drive him out of power?

His speculation might have been a bit excessive. Perhaps the presence of grassland people in the Earl's castle meant nothing, perhaps there had been no internal or external siege, and even the idea that the temple priests had murdered these retired mercenaries was just a figment of his imagination. However, he was still in a precarious situation, feeling terrified and uneasy, and it was inevitable that he would have these thoughts...

Conjecture?

Phils seemed about to retort, but he seemed serious. He opened his mouth, said nothing, then closed it again, mumbling a few words. Cesar realized that this girl's character was to disobey discipline, disobey elders, disobey authority, and even disobey social customs. Fortunately, she would obey knowledge and experience.

She believed in her ancestors so much probably because her ancestors seemed to be the most knowledgeable people.

Cesar exchanged glances with the man for a moment, then said, "If you think this isn't enough, we can first delay the actions of these retired mercenaries, and then find a way to create some obstacles for the priests of Xiel."

"What are you going to do?" Phils said, her eyes wide. Cesar knew that she had been subjected to so many shocks from him recently that everything he wanted to do took on a sense of absurdity.

"I should get the mercenary groups these guys left," Cesar said, "even a few detachments will do. Murdering a few veteran mercenaries who've been retired for years isn't difficult, but if we replace them with active mercenaries who've recently been on the battlefield, things will become more complicated."

"What's the point?"

"If the direction of things is too clear and there are no variables, then create uncertainty. The more chaotic things are, the more opportunities we can find."