Chapter Thirteen: The Sudden Assault

"Father Dubai, here is the debt, plus interest, totaling 2,200 Solas. Please take it." Link handed a small box filled with money to Dubai, his face adorned with a satisfied smile.

Dubai's expression was exceedingly grim, as though he were the one paying, not Link. He could never have imagined that Link would manage to gather the money in just a few days. Dubai had come today prepared to take possession of the church, only to find Link had paid off his debt. How could he possibly feel happy about that?

"What on earth happened? Did he really manage to raise the money from those paupers and beggars? Impossible. Getting those people to donate is harder than asking them for their lives—how could he have amassed such a large sum in so short a time?" Dubai could not believe the lower and middle classes had helped Link pay off his debt, though in truth, his guess was not far from reality. Link's money did indeed come from those people.

Qinke Town was impoverished; not only were the lower and middle classes poor, even the elite were not particularly wealthy. Many among them were followers of various religions, but aside from the upper class, few lower and middle class believers ever donated. That was precisely why most religions ignored these groups.

But Link knew better. People did not donate because they saw no benefit. Aside from offering free prayers, when did these religions ever provide free services? Medical treatment required payment, blessings cost money, guidance came at a price. Money, money, money—who had enough to afford all of this? As time went on, donations dwindled.

Link was different. From the very beginning, he never mentioned money. Healing was completely free; as long as you queued, as long as you came, Link would treat you. Moreover, any difficult ailment was cured in his hands, even fatal illnesses improved bit by bit.

Later, Link displayed a noble disregard for privilege, refusing invitations from the elite and declaring he would stay to continue treating the people for free. His reputation soared.

In such circumstances, Link employed a little cleverness, instructing Jack to quietly spread rumors that Link and the Church of the Father were so poor they could barely afford food, yet Link, guided by his faith, insisted on refusing payment, preferring to go hungry than to charge for his services.

When this news spread, it caused a stir among the people. Moved and anxious, they realized that if such a great and compassionate priest were to collapse from exhaustion, they would lose not only a beloved leader, but a free doctor as well.

When their own interests were at stake, even the poorest would make an effort. As a result, everyone who had benefitted from Link contributed what they could; those without money offered their labor. Help poured in spontaneously. Visitors from other towns often brought some payment for treatment, and even though Link declared his services were free, local influence compelled them to donate nonetheless.

In a short time, Link received 2,500 Solas in donations—not a fortune to the wealthy, but enough for him to reclaim his IOU from Dubai.

Although Dubai would have liked to raise the interest as loan sharks do, the IOU was explicit: repayment of 2,200 after six months. He had written it with confidence that Link could never pay, but as it turned out, though Link himself couldn't, his son could.

Watching Dubai depart with an expression as if he'd swallowed dung, Link's smile faded. Though he had solved the immediate problem, new troubles were looming. Link knew his smooth path of preaching was at an end; the Church of the War God and other sects would surely come to make trouble.

The reason was simple—self-interest. Seeing that a group of supposedly unprofitable lower and middle class folk could provide such generous donations in a short time, those profit-seeking wolves would surely descend like wild dogs catching the scent of meat to fight for believers.

"But now, my momentum is established. Even if you want to compete, you must have the ability." He murmured softly, and confidence returned to his smile.

Just yesterday, Link's number of followers surpassed five hundred, and the system, silent for a time, responded with an unexpected message.

He had no comment on the so-called achievement function; after all, the system was acquired through a bootleg game, and achievements were hardly surprising. What truly excited him was the skill reward.

This particular skill was the "One Yang Finger," the unique technique of the Duan family from Jin Yong's novels, capable of harming enemies at a distance. Power channeled through the finger, it was sudden and difficult to defend against—a perfect tool for ambush.

However, One Yang Finger consumed great energy, exhausting the spirit. Excessive use could cost one's strength or even life. Link possessed the Nine Yang Divine Skill as his foundation, but only three levels—his strength was not even equal to the fourth-rate experts of the novels. He could not use the One Yang Finger excessively: at close range, perhaps eleven or twelve times in succession; at a meter's distance, not at all; within a meter, at most three or four times.

Yet, for support rather than combat, One Yang Finger was even more effective. In the novels, it was renowned for healing, and the Southern Emperor often used it to save lives.

Upon mastering the technique, Link discovered its remarkable auxiliary effects: it could enhance his Healing Spell, tripling its effectiveness for the same energy cost and adding the ability to heal injuries.

Although its healing was not as potent as some restorative spells, this overall enhancement delighted Link, and it was why he did not fear interference from other religions.

As long as Link maintained his powerful healing abilities, the people's trust and faith would remain with him. Even if others tried to compete for followers, it would be up to the populace to decide whom they trusted.

With that thought, Link relaxed; his drive to preach was not as urgent.

Just as Link thought his troubles were resolved and considered taking a moment's rest, the church doors were suddenly pushed open.

Link immediately turned to look, seeing a middle-aged man in plain clothes enter.

"A believer?" Link wondered. To avoid being associated with the Star God Church, he never mentioned his connection with them; he made a point of going out every day rather than waiting in the church. His followers understood this, so few ever came to the church.

While Link was still puzzled, the man stepped forward and stared at him, asking, "Are you Neil Night, the priest who's been making such a stir lately?"

Link responded with a professional cleric's smile: "God the Father be praised. Whether I'm making a stir, I can't say, but I am Neil Night. May I ask who you are...?"

"Hmph, that's right. The name's Toronto, sworn brother of Bal Black." With those words, the man suddenly threw a punch at Link.

Link was startled and immediately gathered his inner strength to counter with a palm strike. He could have blocked Bal's strongest attack, yet after clashing with Toronto, he was forced back seven or eight steps before he could stop, while Toronto retreated only two.

Both men were shocked. Link narrowed his eyes and said quietly, "Such strength... You're a first-tier peak martial artist?"

Toronto snorted, "That's right. I'm a first-tier peak martial artist. No wonder my brother died at your hands—you have some skill. But even so, today you must die. I don't care who's behind you. My brother is dead, and you must pay!"

With that, Toronto reached behind him, drew the steel blade from his waist, and charged at Link again.

Link dared not meet force with force; he gathered his energy and hurled a nearby bench at Toronto.

Toronto bellowed, summoned his fighting spirit, and cleaved the bench in two. As the bench split, Link followed swiftly, closing in and pointing at Toronto from a distance.

In an instant, the force of One Yang Finger shot forth, aiming for Toronto's throat. Though invisible, the energy produced visible ripples in the air, which Toronto noticed immediately. Instinctively, he retreated and raised his hand to block. The force struck his wrist, opening a bloody hole.

The wound was not serious; ordinary healing spells could cure it. But the shock was immense, especially for Toronto, who retreated rapidly, terror etched on his face. "Is that the Divine Finger of Tianyi? What's your relationship with the Tianyi Church?"

"Tianyi Church? What kind of sect is that? Never heard of it." Link wondered internally, but outwardly remained calm. "That hardly concerns you, does it? You're Bal's sworn brother—are you also one of the Wild God's Temple?"

Toronto snorted. "Hmph, I have nothing to do with those clerics. They always claim they'll look after their own, but after my brother died, they didn't even dare utter a word. They say you have people behind you. Well, I want to see just who you have behind you..." As he spoke, comprehension seemed to dawn on him, and his expression grew darker. "I see now. You have ties to the Tianyi Church. No wonder you're so arrogant. The Wild God's Temple—such a useless bunch. Such a big sect, yet they're afraid of those sneaky, cowardly Tianyi Church clerics. Even if you belong to the Tianyi Church, I won't let you go. Just wait—next time I come, it'll be your head hitting the ground!"

With those vicious words, Toronto clutched his wounded hand and fled. Link did not pursue; the One Yang Finger was already exposed, and any further attack would be pointless. The exertion had depleted him greatly, making pursuit unwise.

After Toronto left, Link's calm demeanor gave way to gloom. He had thought his new skill would bring security, but now he realized he was too naïve. The world of Sola Sky was full of experts. Even with powerful ancient martial arts, he was not necessarily stronger than the local warriors. The idea that mastering a few martial arts would make him a powerhouse in another world existed only in fantasy novels. He couldn't even defeat a mere Toronto; the road ahead was long indeed.