Chapter 38: The Uncertain Road Ahead
Page 1 of 3
Inside the training hall.
The agile boy turned his face aside, angling his ear toward the man before him.
The arm gripping his dagger was drawn behind his waist. Hunched over, he edged forward inch by inch, testing the ground with his toes.
Fernandes stood opposite him, eyes closed, clutching an identical weapon.
Without realizing it, both men quieted their breathing and crept toward their respective targets. The application of “Secrecy” was displayed to perfection in both of them—they probed and tested one another, seeking to locate the other’s position…
And then—
They erupted.
The boy moved like a fallen leaf tumbling through a hurricane, shifting in ways that were erratic and impossible to predict. Each time, he slipped away barely a second before the blade could graze his eye or throat. The advantage of dancing upon the knife’s edge was that it made his attacks appear even more terrifying and lethal than a viper’s.
Fernandes’s dagger skimmed Roland’s throat, perhaps no more than two or three hairs’ breadth away.
The instant the dagger passed beyond his neck, Roland’s attack came sweeping back.
Fernandes’s forward-leaning body had no time to retreat. He hurriedly raised his arm, but the dark-green rubber dagger slipped deftly around it and struck his throat with pinpoint accuracy.
A direct hit.
The rubber blade bent sharply.
“Well done, Roland.”
Fernandes opened his eyes, wiped away his sweat, and rubbed his neck as he approached. He patted Roland on the shoulder.
At last, it was having an effect.
…
Physical conditioning. Combat.
The days flew by.
Several weeks of training had not only cast a layer of severity over that beautiful face; they had also visibly strengthened Roland. He was no longer flat-chested and narrow-framed. His chest, arms, and thighs had filled out slightly, and Fernandes said he had grown taller.
Bang.
A pebble struck the metal plate.
The next second, flame burst from the muzzle. The bullet followed close behind and struck the bull’s-eye, producing a long, ringing chime—
Roland tilted his ear, then lowered the gun.
Whether it was because of the training or because Roland slept so well every night, the indistinct, soft tendril had somehow “grown” a second strand.
Like an invisible ribbon drifting through water, it floated beside the boy.
Fernandes stood nearby, clapping with a smile. The table was scattered with numerous small stones.
The bullet was unloaded, and the gun was returned to the holster at his waist.
A safety check.
Fernandes walked over and asked with concern, “How have things been lately?”
He meant whether Roland had sensed or entered the Eden of the Father of All Things anywhere beyond that dense forest…
Or anywhere else.
Two weeks earlier, Enid had obtained an amber and a small section of finger bone for him through her “friends”—objects of Principle.
And yet…
Roland had found nothing.
He shook his head in silence.
Fernandes gazed at the boy.
Page 1 of 3
Page 2 of 3
More than two months had passed, and he did indeed look somewhat taller than before.
His slightly long black hair was tied into a simple braid at the back of his head, with only a few loose strands falling beside his face.
His somewhat aloof golden eyes resembled mirrors of deep gold. His nose was straight, and his lips curved faintly upward. He was beautiful enough to be mistaken for a girl.
The silk shirt and waistcoat he wore outlined his lean waist, cinched by a dark leather belt.
Below them were straight-cut trousers and spotless black pointed boots.
He needed only to stand there quietly to draw the eye.
Recently, Fernandes had often stood at a not-too-distant spot, eyeing him with an oddly appraising look while making a continuous series of appreciative clicks with his tongue.
“I don’t mean anything by it, Roland.”
“But you really are beautiful…”
“Beautiful enough to take one’s breath away.”
Fernandes remembered the first time he had seen the child.
Long hair had covered his eyes. He had been curled up and trembling incessantly, barely able to walk—like a sparrow drenched by a storm and on the verge of starving to death.
Now, he was truly different…
Roland Collins.
“You ought to go to the theater,” Fernandes said admiringly. He stepped forward to pat Roland’s shoulder, then squeezed his arm. “It would be wonderful if you could come along with us…”
Who didn’t like beautiful people?
Still, Fernandes could not help feeling somewhat regretful.
To this day, Roland had still failed to find the “correct” path.
Or perhaps Enid had been right.
“Paths choose people; people do not choose paths.”
Roland had entered the dream world several times, yet had never reached anywhere other than that dense forest—yes, anywhere at all.
Whether it was the amber, the section of finger bone, or the dagger, the result was undoubtedly the same: none of them had been of any use.
Fernandes understood that this could mean only two things.
Either Roland was extraordinarily suited to the path of that “forest,” or he was extraordinarily repelled by the paths represented by those three objects of Principle.
It was a great pity.
After all, the path of the “Holy Flame” was clear and well defined. If Roland set foot upon it, Fernandes could answer any question he had, at least before he reached the Fifth Ring.
What a shame…
“Have you decided?”
Fernandes handed him a towel and pulled over a chair before sitting down.
“I don’t know.”
Roland gently wiped his fingers, which were stained with gun oil.
“It’s been nearly three months. I can’t remain an apprentice forever. Even if I can handle blades and firearms, I’m still far from being a true ritualist. I doubt the Judgment Court needs a blind man who knows nothing but how to wield a dagger, does it?”
“I do collect my wages on time every week.”
Fernandes hesitated, words caught in his throat.
In his view, the correct and safest step for little Roland would be to set foot within the domain of one of the Ten Crowned Gods.
Page 2 of 3
Page 3 of 3
The Grand Ritual…
It was far too important.
What use was a path without a deity, even if one reached the higher Rings?
The farther upward he climbed, the wider the gap between him and the ritualists of the other Crowned Gods would become.
At that thought, Fernandes’s expression shifted. He clenched his teeth in secret and said, “Perhaps I can ask around through some other people…”
Roland shook his head and declined with a smile.
He knew the chances were slim.
After spending so much time together, Roland was virtually certain that Aurora would not let him go anywhere else.
Even if he waited for several years.
Whenever he dreamed, that fairy slept sprawled across his head.
And snored.
To be honest, he had never been particularly obsessed with so-called “mysteries”—reaching the Tenth Ring and becoming an immortal, for instance…
No.
Now he had an uncle, he had Enid, and he could gently lift the veil over another world. That was enough to make him happy.
His life was peaceful and stable. He had enough to eat and drink. What more could he want?
“There are quite a few ways to create wealth among the memories Su Yue left you. They may not be simple, but Roland, I am at least confident that I can make you a tycoon.”
“Is that meant to comfort me?”
“I’m not actually all that disappointed.”
“Besides, Aurora is very cute.”
“I now believe that perhaps paths really do choose people.”
“Look, the three objects of Principle accompany me to sleep every day, and they are completely useless.”
“You know the Judgment Court’s attitude toward other species, don’t you?”
“Equal to their attitude toward heretics?”
“But it seems I have no other choice, Wrench.”
“My eyes, my organs—some part of them came from Aurora, didn’t they?”
“If I do not choose this glorious path, I even suspect that the great door of mystery will remain closed to me forever.”
“I am not trying to interfere with your choice, Roland.”
“I am only telling you what kind of future you are walking toward.”
“What kind of future?”
The flames in his eyes suddenly flared brightly.
“A truly fantastic future!”
Roland: …
“You’re cuter than Aurora.”