Chapter Forty-Seven: The Prophecy of the Prophet’s Eye

Unlike the branch church, the headquarters of the Celestial Spirit Church was situated in the bustling heart of the city, occupying an expanse of land worth its weight in gold. High walls enclosed the monastery and the main church. If such a prime location had belonged to any other faith, it would have been turned into a lucrative venture. Yet the Celestial Spirit Church, with its doctrine of seclusion and ascetic practice, rarely received outsiders and never opened its doors to the public. Thus, the world outside the walls bustled with life while inside all was cold and desolate, forming a peculiar spectacle in the midst of the city’s prosperity.

When Link and his companions arrived at the headquarters, Priestess Sunny awaited them with several nuns. She greeted them with a gentle smile, “Welcome, Archbishop Neil. You must be weary from your journey. Please, come in; the elders have been expecting you.”

Link nodded at her words, stepped down from the carriage, and Lingmeng and Elia followed. At Lingmeng’s appearance, several members of the Celestial Spirit Church respectfully saluted her as High Priestess, but Lingmeng herself appeared indifferent, not even acknowledging them, which brought an awkward pause to the atmosphere.

However, the members of the church seemed well accustomed to Lingmeng’s coldness and took no offense, immediately ushering Link and his party inside.

Like the branch church in Qinke Town, the main headquarters bore no trace of luxury—only an air of antiquity and mystery, as if countless secrets lay hidden within its walls. The devotees moved with serene detachment, exuding the essence of ascetic monks, seemingly devoid of any earthly desires. As Link and his group passed through, nearly everyone they encountered was absorbed in prayer, paying no heed to their arrival. If they did notice, they merely nodded silently—never a word spoken.

Because of this, the entire Celestial Spirit Church felt oppressively solemn. Even the zealots Saka and Aeolus found the atmosphere unbearable, convinced that prolonged exposure would drive them mad.

Glancing at the devout followers and then at Lingmeng’s emotionless face, Link finally understood why the High Priestess always wore an unapproachable mask. To grow up in such a repressive environment—how could one possibly develop a rich emotional life? If she had, that would have been the real miracle.

Soon, they were brought before a large chamber inside the monastery. Sunny explained that the three great elders were waiting within but requested to speak with Link alone; only Lingmeng was to accompany him, while the others waited outside.

Though Link was puzzled, he left Elia and the others at the door, entering the room with Lingmeng. There, three striking women dressed in white robes awaited them. Their hair was silver, yet their skin was smooth and youthful.

Upon seeing the three veiled women, Lingmeng scoffed, “You old crones are as mysterious as ever—still acting so cryptic. Honestly, it’s infuriating.”

Link found the comment excruciatingly awkward, but the three women seemed unfazed. The one in the center spoke, her voice carrying an ancient gravity that belied her youthful appearance, “Archbishop Neil, welcome to Bas City. I am Lingfeng, the Chief Elder of the Celestial Spirit Church. These are Elder Watersong and Elder Greenwood.” She paused, allowing Link a moment to absorb their identities before continuing, “I understand that you have many questions. Please, do not be anxious—every question you pose, we shall answer.”

Being ignored, Lingmeng only turned her face away in boredom. After a few seconds of silence, Link composed himself, offering a priestly smile. “In the name of the Father, greetings, honored elders. I am indeed curious—judging by your manner, it seems you anticipated my arrival.”

Lingfeng smiled enigmatically. “Yes, your coming was foretold in prophecy. We have merely followed its guidance and waited for you.”

“Another prophecy?” Link arched a brow, puzzled. “What sort of prophecy could predict my arrival so precisely?”

Prophecy could, indeed, foretell certain things, but always with severe limitations. Link himself was a traveler between worlds; that his arrival could be prophesied seemed nearly impossible. This both unsettled and worried him—his true identity must never be revealed, nor the existence of the system. Either secret, if exposed, would invite certain doom.

Lingfeng shook her head. “No, the prophecy did not mention you by name, but it did foretell the rise of the Church of the Father, and its founder is the one we have long awaited.” She closed her eyes, her voice taking on a sacred cadence: “The True God bestows favor; the Divine Emissary descends. In the name of God, his glory is spread; in the name of God, all things are summoned; in the name of God, dominion is granted over the world. In the Father’s name, faith is united.”

Link was momentarily stunned. “That… is the prophecy?”

Lingfeng nodded slowly. “Yes, that is the prophecy. It existed five hundred years ago, even before the Celestial Spirit Church was founded. It was the very reason our ancestors established this church. We have waited, all this time, for your arrival.”

“Five hundred years?” Link was taken aback, then frowned. “But Lingmeng said you only learned of a prophecy three months ago.”

“That was a different prophecy. Three months ago, our sacred relic—the Eye of the Prophet—was suddenly awakened. It revealed the coming rise of the Church of the Father, warning us that should we not pledge ourselves, our church would face destruction.” Lingfeng continued, “The Eye of the Prophet is the very relic that revealed the divine prophecy five hundred years ago. The rise of the Church of the Father fulfills the founding prophecy of our church.”

Lingfeng then fell silent, watching Link as he processed this. At last, he understood why the Celestial Spirit Church was willing to pledge itself and even hand over its High Priestess for the sake of a simple prophecy—it was all underpinned by a revelation at the very heart of their faith.

Link did not doubt that a church of such devoted ascetics would take the words of their ancestors as sacred law, willing to stake everything on a prophecy. Outsiders could never comprehend the fervor of such belief. Just as Link could command his fanatics to join other churches in the name of the Father, and they would obey, however unwillingly.

The power of faith can be indistinguishable from mind control, compelling followers to commit unfathomable acts at the leader’s word.

Yet, though Link now understood why the Celestial Spirit Church had pledged itself, the prophecy itself unsettled him. It stated that the Divine Emissary would descend—a herald whose motto was “The Father above”—the very phrase Link so often used in his own rhetoric. Most disturbing of all, the prophecy spoke of “summoning all things,” which seemed an uncanny parallel to his system’s ability to create objects from nothing. Coincidence, perhaps, but the sacred relic, the Eye of the Prophet, had foreseen the rise of the Church of the Father even before his arrival in this world. It was too much to be mere chance. Even as a skeptic, Link now felt as though some unseen eye watched his every move, sending a chill through his heart.

Taking a deep breath, Link asked in a low voice, “Is it truly possible for a prophecy to foresee every detail of a person’s fate?”

Lingfeng seemed to read his thoughts and shook her head. “No, such things are impossible. Prophecy only reveals the possibilities of countless futures in cryptic words—it does not show anything unchangeable. Even our founding prophecy may not come to pass. All that has happened is that, for now, the prophecy has been fulfilled.”

“Is that so…” Link felt somewhat relieved. Possessing a wondrous Divine System as he did, he was not easily shaken. He then cautiously probed whether Lingfeng and the elders knew anything of the Divine System or his transmigration. To his relief, the prophecy spoke only of the Church of the Father and its founder, nothing more. The elders assumed he was the prophesied one only because he had founded the church.

With that, Link’s anxieties melted away, leaving in their place a burning curiosity about the Eye of the Prophet. In this world, any relic worthy of the title “sacred artifact” was certain to be a priceless treasure, left behind by the ancient Celestial Spirits—a race said to be descendants of gods, each possessing power to rival or surpass the Saints, though they had vanished from history for reasons unknown.

Though Link did not covet the relic outright, he could not help but desire a glimpse of it after hearing so much. Yet, as it belonged to another faith, even if they had pledged themselves, it would be improper to make a direct request. Thus, after some deliberation, he made a polite inquiry to see the artifact.

To his surprise, the three elders merely smiled calmly and agreed at once, even offering to present the relic to him as a gift. Link was astonished.

When he asked why they would be so generous, Lingfeng and the others replied that it was simply the will of their ancestors, and they only followed those ancient instructions.

Ancestors, always the ancestors. No wonder their faith was centered around ancestral reverence—they took ancestral words as divine mandate, freely offering even their most sacred relic.

The three elders then led Link and Lingmeng to the relic’s resting place. Lingmeng was initially reluctant, but Lingfeng insisted that as High Priestess, she was obliged to witness this historic moment. Why it was “historic” was left unsaid—the elders merely smiled in response.

As the church’s most sacred artifact, the Eye of the Prophet was, of course, kept far from prying eyes. Guided by the three elders, Link and Lingmeng wandered through a maze of corridors, finally descending into an underground passage that seemed to go on forever—so long that Link began to suspect the elders harbored ulterior motives.

Just as his patience began to wear thin, they finally arrived at a vast underground chamber, guarded by eight veiled women. Their brows were cold, their auras concealed, but even without using his White Spirit perception, Link could tell that each one was at least as powerful as Saka or Aeolus.

“At least Second Tier or above,” Link silently evaluated these formidable and taciturn guardians.