When the plot-skips players into the game world

It wasn't until after Avalon and the group entered the city gates that Avalon put down the book "Parthia" in his hand and looked at Old Ibn with some hesitation: "Does this really work?"

This was something Old Ibn had slipped to him just as they were approaching the oasis.

Old Ibn had instructed Avalon to recite the lines from the first chapter — Avalon felt it was somewhat embarrassing, so he tweaked the lines a bit to make themselves sound more natural.

Of course, he knew what this was. It was like a religious classic, but in the desert, there was no religion that believed in the savior from "Parthia"...

Though that's quite normal, Avalon thought. After all, gods truly exist in this world, and compared to the vague future savior, it is still the real, power-bestowing gods that are worth believing in.

"I think it seems to be working well."

Hayna complained, "They've all turned into a writhing mass on the ground, desperately wanting to kowtow."

When Hayna discovered that the "Exquisitely Sensitive Baker," who had greatly provoked her, was actually a ritualist kept by the Benevolent Lords of Clear Spring City, she felt intense disgust towards his colleagues.

Although she couldn't manage hatred due to unfamiliarity, her heart fully understood these were twisted scumbags. There wouldn't be an ounce of sympathy or leniency.

"You don't know how much we value 'Parthia.'

Old Ibn chuckled, both nostalgic and longing, as he said: "For families that can teach their children to read, their learning must come from 'Parthia'; for all families including slaves, aside from 'Papa,' 'Mama,' and 'Master,' the first sentence learned is basically 'The sky splits, the King of Indigo spews fire, descending from the sandstorm.'

"Every true Parthian harbors complex feelings towards this desert. It nurtures us, imprisons us, and tortures us. Even though everyone more or less believes in the afterlife, no one doesn't yearn for the arrival of the savior who will lead us out of the desert. Precisely because those twelve almost impossible predictions have come true, many firmly believe the first and the thirteenth predictions will eventually unfold.

"Probably only those who imitate the Horus People, pursuing Mithra's hidden teachings, would disbelieve in the savior's coming."

The old man gently sighed, expelling a deeply weary breath.

His somewhat cloudy, somewhat yellowed pupils watched the kneeling people outside.

Like wind bending a field of wheat, the people fell before them, kowtowing.

This is a place Old Ibn had once walked.

He had worked here before, had studied in the library.

He almost became a member of the "Water Crow Guard" had it not been for a senior fellow secretly advising him, prompting him to swear an oath to the Pure Sect... he would have ended up making thirst stones.

Hayna looked on with some reluctance, quietly saying, "Won't this be a bit bad..."

"You don't know, that's exactly how we Parthians are, Lord Daine."

Old Ibn liked to address Hayna by surname.

Although of common birth, Hayna was already a member of the Arbitration Hall. Though the Avalon Kingdom no longer existed, Old Ibn still treated Avalon and Hayna according to the attitude he held while serving the Old Queen — towards the beloved of the Little Princess and the Knight of the Arbitrator.

The old man's mouth lightly lifted, resembling a bitter smile, a cold sneer, or a mocking grin: "The better we are treated, the greedier we become, increasingly dissatisfied; the harsher the discipline we receive, the more loyal and compliant we are."

"This..."

Hayna frowned, speechless.

Old Ibn gazed out the window, his pupils reflecting scenes of past betrayals.

His words grew increasingly indifferent, as if detached, as though the world was meant to be so, but merely hearing his words made Avalon feel pain deep within:

"Slaves are just like that. How could masters possibly feel secure if they aren't trained into dogs?

"If a person can think, then they become human. But the Benevolent Lords don't need that many people. Most are chickens, cattle, sheep, livestock, ants. They are the hot soup in the pot, the filth on the streets, the blood stones on the altar, the cinders burning at the pit bottom..."

Old Ibn, aged and nearing the end of his days, lightly squinted, as if asleep, or as if fallen into a dream.

After a long time, he awoke startled, muttering two meaningless sentences, his voice slightly louder again: "Only when one learns to bite can they feel secure. Only when they are not that clever do masters feel inclined to reward them with two bones.

"Wise folks do exist. In Parthia, there's the world's finest craftsmen, capable of inscribing 5,800 words on a single finger bone — that's the word count of 'Parthia'; but if they fail, or ruin that finger bone, the entire family would accompany the burial.

"Among Parthians exists unrivaled musicians — forgive me, even the great singers of the Iris Flower can't sing in such a magnificent and sacred voice alone. And if the Benevolent Lords desire, they can whimsically cut out her tongue as memorabilia. Or dissect her chest and abdomen, to see if her lungs are indeed larger than usual.

"No one considers this wrong. Or maybe some do, but they are dead.

"You said, the Benevolent Lords were originally tasked with guarding the remains of the Ancient People. They bear a sacred mission, like the Night Watchers holding torches."

The old man gently spoke: "But do the Night Watchers truly wish for the sun to rise again? Without the sun, they are the sole light. As the sun rises, their flames are but childish jokes.

"I don't know about sacred missions, nor what calms the Parthian Lords. I solely understand... unless all of this is shattered to pieces, the heaven in this world won't brighten.

"You don't know, how many foolish folks hope the sky won't brighten again. Just because they have grown accustomed to this life, just because they've claimed that laughable bit of light and fire. Just because they have what others lack... they begrudge a brighter world.

"If one wishes to shatter all this, it can't be gentle. But the most vehement scolding, the most venomous whipping, won't make people stand.

'And the prophecy of 'Parthia' is the finest whip. Awakening them, lifting their heads in a daze... to see if the sky is truly bright.

"...to see if this sky is truly bright.

Old Ibn repeated the last sentence.

His gaze flickered, as if seeing an illusion, as if tears were glimmering.

He looked at the kneeling folks, as though seeing himself and his companions in the past.

— The senior fellow he admired, was betrayed by his junior... Ibn's nephew.

"...Aziz Ben Abdul."

Ibn slowly declared: "That person was able to enter the grand library to study ritual magic due to my recommendation. He was a slave, exiled from a city that was obliterated after a Benevolent Lord was assassinated, who came here in exile. My sister took pity on the child and adopted him."

In order to rise further, Aziz Ben Abdul betrayed Old Ibn and his senior fellow by exposing them—because they secretly aided the slaves in escaping, it was deemed as "theft of Benevolent Lords' property."

"Back then, I never knew, the informant was my nephew, my sister's adopted son..."

Old Ibn mocked as he said: "After we were expelled by the Society, we brought companions to live in my sister's house, plotting on how to clandestinely save the innocents and righteous chosen for thirst stone material, substituting them with criminals.

"Back then, we weren't even planning to rebel against the Benevolent Lords."

For they all knew what would happen should Clear Spring City lose its Benevolent Lords.

"Perhaps it was to rise further, or perhaps jealous of my senior fellow's and my talents... Aziz Ben Abdul, still a student, secretly collected evidence and led the Water Crow Guard to arrest us on the spot.

"They fought with all their might just to get me out.

"And they were hanged on this road. Because they would rather die than reveal my whereabouts.

My sister, Aziz's adoptive mother... was tortured to death by the Benevolent Lords for sheltering us."

Upon hearing these words, Zhu Tang also expressed a silent response similar to Mu.

His eyebrows lightly furrowed, and only his pursed lips and clenched fists indicated his roiling emotions.

Then Avalon slowly opened his eyes.

"If that's the case," Avalon said, "then let the prophecy come true."