Chapter 31: Saichi and Bai Li

At this moment, Feng Zhe was clad in papal vestments, and as he removed his robe, Manigot cried out, “Altar Cloth?!” Indeed, beneath his garments, Feng Zhe was wearing the sacred attire of the Altar Seat. Two identical sacred armors appearing simultaneously in a single era—such a thing had never happened before.

Bai Li, who had known all along, burst into laughter. “I knew it! The Altar Seat could never have fallen during the Holy War. It will always reappear in the next Holy War!” Pope Seki clutched his head, muttering, “But now there are two Altar Seats at the same time—how are we to explain this?” Manigot, however, seemed unconcerned. “Just tell everyone there’s a spare Altar Cloth, ha!” Feng Zhe was speechless. He looked down at his own sacred armor and realized that this was not a mirrored node; beads of sweat instantly broke out on his face.

Bai Li apparently recognized Feng Zhe’s unease and laughed heartily. “Stop looking! This is the real world, not some illusory dream!” “You know of the Altar Realm?” Feng Zhe looked at Bai Li, who chuckled again. “Those dream realms offer no real improvement. Rather than wasting time there, it’s better to fight fiercely and decisively!” Bai Li had naturally visited the Altar Realm, but owing to his disposition, he had little regard for those dreamlike mirrored nodes and paid scant attention to their secrets.

Feng Zhe gazed at Bai Li, then suddenly stood and spoke solemnly, “I am Alex of the Altar Seat. In my era, I served as acting Pope and was a disciple of Gemini Saga.” “Acting Pope? What of the Pope of your time?” Seki, who had already noticed Feng Zhe’s papal attire, couldn’t help but ask after the whereabouts of the Pope.

“I am from 243 years after your Holy War. The Pope is Aries Shion. Yet, because of the Saga crisis, I became acting Pope.” Feng Zhe spoke simply, mentioning the survivors of the previous Holy War, Shion and Dohko, and explained that Dohko now guards the 108 Demon Stars atop the Five Elders’ Peak.

“What? Shion and Dohko?” At this point, Shion was still a young apprentice training under Bai Li, and Dohko was a bronze Saint of the Dragon constellation—neither could compare to Manigot. “You mean Shion becomes Pope?” Bai Li and Seki exchanged glances, and upon hearing he would become the Golden Saint of Aries, anticipation shone in their eyes.

At this point in the timeline, the Aries Cloth was still trapped in the spatial fissures of Mu Continent. Although Shion had resonated with the previous Aries Saint, Afner, Bai Li had always refused him. “Pope Shion is regarded as the strongest in Sanctuary. It was his efforts that restored Sanctuary’s vitality; the last Holy War was far too brutal.” As he said this, Feng Zhe glanced quietly at Bai Li and Seki.

Bai Li laughed heartily. “I knew it—Shion is the most outstanding!” Pope Seki, however, remarked, “Alex’s timeline is merely a possibility, filled with uncertainties. No one can be sure that our era will inevitably develop into Alex’s era.”

Bai Li, fully aware, laughed again. “Of course I know. It only proves the remarkable excellence of my disciple, and I’m very happy about it.” Manigot curled his lip. “These two old men.” “You pulled me from the future into your era. May I ask what business you have?” Feng Zhe’s question left both Bai Li and Seki awkwardly silent.

Manigot, however, spoke directly. “These two old men had nothing better to do. They glimpsed your image in the sacred flame and used divine power to forcibly pull you here.” “Divine power?” Bai Li, embarrassed, produced a slip of paper covered in symbols. Feng Zhe recognized it at once. “Athena’s Blood!”

Now Feng Zhe understood: the two elders’ main task was to infuse the power of the Cosmo into the sacred flame. With enough time, the Altar Seat could become key to sealing the gods of death and sleep. During this process, they had suddenly seen Feng Zhe’s image. Being adept in the ways of the soul, they had joined forces, using the power of divine blood to forcibly pull him through.

In truth, neither expected they would actually succeed in bringing a living person across, which explained their embarrassment. Feng Zhe was now furious—being dragged here out of nowhere was enough to sour anyone’s mood.

“Oh well, Alex, you must be tired. Let me take you to rest.” Though Manigot was irreverent, he sensed Feng Zhe’s exhaustion and took him away, ignoring the two elders completely.

Bai Li called out, “Manigot, just tell everyone Alex is my disciple.” “Oh, all right!” Manigot waved a hand, and Feng Zhe was led away.

“Brother, what do you make of what Alex just said?” “According to him, our Holy War is in 1743, ten years from now...” “We have no time left...” “We must prepare with all our strength. Also, the search for the Goddess must be accelerated...” “Yes, we’re already trying our best.” “Let’s hope the Goddess grows up healthy...”

The next day

A beam of morning sunlight warmed Feng Zhe’s face, causing him to stretch lazily.

After a night of rest, he finally felt recovered. “Lord Alex, your breakfast is ready.” A servant brought in bread and clear water. The training grounds of the Saints were harsh, especially in the Sanctuary, reminiscent of the Middle Ages.

“Thank you!” Feng Zhe grabbed the bread and ate, though it was hard and tasteless, he devoured it completely. Since arriving in the Saint’s world, Feng Zhe’s appetite had faded. Most of the time, he lived like an ascetic.

After breakfast, he opened the door to see a dense crowd of Saints. This was the most well-prepared Holy War; news had it that seventy-nine Saints were present, the greatest number of Sacred Cloths to ever appear. The soldiers and reserve Saints formed ranks like an army. The morning drills sounded just like a military camp.

“So this is what the true Sanctuary is like!” In his era, despite Pope Shion’s tireless efforts, the decline in Sanctuary was still obvious. The grandeur of the Greek city-states and the towering architecture everywhere could never be matched in Feng Zhe’s time.

“You’re Alex of the Altar Seat?” came the voice of a fourteen-year-old boy. Feng Zhe looked up, surprised. “Shion!” Standing before him was the Pope of his own era, now only a youth.

“My teacher told me about you. Shall we spar?” Shion’s challenge brought a smile to Feng Zhe’s face. “Gladly, I was just hoping for a match!”

Two youths, crossing the bounds of time and space, prepared for their first important contest...