Chapter 6 Discussion

Sirian had always believed White Cliff Town was a fortress standing on the edge of the Dark World.

The evidence wasn’t just the towering walls, the absurdly large underground storage, and the well-developed vertical farms; it was also the Town Hall right before Sirian’s eyes.

Worn down by time, most of the Town Hall’s architecture had collapsed and fallen into disrepair, later to be rebuilt by the townspeople into new residences. Yet, from the remaining sections, one could still glimpse the building’s former glory.

Sturdy bricks, complex passages, and even skeletons and rusty swords dug from the ruins… White Cliff Town must have another unknown history, but that history was too distant, so distant that it had long been forgotten by the townspeople, leaving only the name ‘Town Hall’ out of habit.

“Teacher must know something.”

As the guardian of White Cliff Town and the Torchbearer of unknown age, Nun must know the past of White Cliff Town. Perhaps it was a certain past event that led Nun to remain in this small town, living such an ascetic life.

Otherwise, with Nun’s strength, he could have easily traversed the wilderness alone to those prosperous City-states, enjoying fine wine and delicacies, and the privileges of a transcendent.

“The mystery will be revealed tonight.”

Sirian thought to himself, tidying his attire.

“Sirian, over here!”

Under the Town Hall’s archway, Ava, dressed in a familiar white dress, waved to Sirian.

“I’m not late, am I?”

Sirian walked over quickly, a smile on his face.

“Just in time,” Ava scrutinized Sirian’s attire, “Not bad, did you bring out everything you had hidden away?”

“One has to be a bit formal, right?”

Looking into the dimness deep within the archway, Ava didn’t know the purpose of tonight’s dinner, but Sirian had already guessed most of it.

Becoming a transcendent was an extremely risky endeavor. Even with Sirian’s so-called chaos resistance, he might still die during the ritual, just like the The Sofrova Brothers before him.

Sirian was not only a stubborn person; he also had some strange convictions.

People should not merely strive for survival and basic sustenance; they should have higher pursuits, and even if demons besieged the city and chaos invaded, they should persist to the end.

In this savage and insane world, Sirian still maintained his dignity, wearing a tie on his worn collar.

“Let’s go.”

Sirian took a deep breath and walked inside. Ava did not accompany him, merely standing in place, watching Sirian depart.

“Aren’t you coming?” Sirian asked.

“Father only invited you and Teacher Nun,” Ava spread her hands helplessly, “No choice.”

“Alright.”

Sirian was certain that tonight’s discussion would be related to transcendents.

“Even though I can’t go, I can bless you,” Ava smiled, “You said I’m like a saint, right?”

“Of course,” Sirian affirmed.

Ava stepped forward, gently embraced Sirian, and whispered.

“May everything go smoothly.”

Stepping into the depths of the Town Hall, Sirian ran his hand over the greyish-white bricks, past numerous sword marks of varying depths.

Sirian could imagine the scene: at some point in the past, a fierce battle had erupted within the Town Hall. Two forces fought to the death in the narrow passages, bodies piled up like mountains, and blood overflowed the stairs.

The roars of people echoed through the dome, the wails of death and the shouts of anger interwoven layer upon layer, reverberating endlessly like a requiem.

Pushing open one heavy door after another, Sirian finally found Town Chief Bo’er in the innermost chamber.

Bo’er was a refined-looking man, with thick glasses perched on his nose and a perpetually amiable smile on his face. His voice was gentle, always giving people a feeling of warmth like a spring breeze.

He sat at the dining table, which was laden with various delicacies.

Something seemed to be in the darkness nearby; Sirian gazed intently for a moment before noticing Nun sitting there, silent, like an invisible shadow, blending into the deep darkness.

“Teacher, Town Chief.”

Sirian nodded to them, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

“Sirian…”

Nun uttered Sirian’s name, wanting to say something, but then fell into deep hesitation, closing his mouth.

Sirian naturally understood his teacher’s intention and stated frankly.

“You invited me tonight to discuss matters concerning transcendents, didn’t you?”

Bo’er’s smile stiffened, and he couldn’t help but glance at Nun.

A deep breathing sound came from the dimness.

“That’s right, Sirian. We want to discuss with you the question of whether you can be promoted to a transcendent.”

Sirian was a clever student, but sometimes too clever, tearing apart all disguises and catching the adults off guard.

“You should also understand that White Cliff Town’s current situation is very critical. As of now, it has been cut off from the outside world for over twenty years. The reserves of soul marrow are gradually depleting, and my blood alone cannot sustain the entire town’s consumption.”

Nun’s tone was stiff, as if he had recited these words many times in his mind.

Sirian understood Nun’s dilemma; making himself a transcendent was not much different from urging him to commit suicide.

“Furthermore, even if White Cliff Town’s soul marrow reserves are alleviated, it won’t be enough. We need to cross the wilderness and re-establish contact with other City-states. Only then can we thoroughly resolve White Cliff Town’s crisis…”

Sirian interrupted Nun’s speech, his tone firm.

“I am willing to become a transcendent.”

Nun was stunned for a moment; Sirian had never dared to interrupt him before.

He didn’t feel angry; instead, a deeper sense of worry arose.

“Sirian, I need you to think carefully. Becoming a transcendent is not something to celebrate. On the contrary, in this barren White Cliff Town, such an act is practically suicide.”

“It’s alright, Teacher,” Sirian remained unwavering, “I want to become a transcendent, and only by becoming a transcendent will I have the ability to step into the world beyond White Cliff Town.”

Nun lowered his head, pressing hard on his temples.

Shadows obscured most of his face, and Sirian vaguely glimpsed his pained expression.

“Teacher, are you afraid I will fail?”

Nun was silent for a long time, then slowly said, “I don’t want to cut off my student’s head again.”

“But if we don’t do this, White Cliff Town will eventually perish,” Sirian emphasized again, “I am willing to take responsibility for my choice.”

After a moment of calm, Sirian added, “Teacher, you didn’t just suddenly decide to talk to me about this, did you?”

Nun slowly raised his head, his deep gaze fixed on Sirian.

Under the table, Sirian gently pressed his left palm, recalling the molten gold ouroboros seal.

“Because I returned alive from the wilderness, having been infected by the grey fog, and survived… chaos resistance?”

“Yes.”

Nun looked directly at Sirian. He was always a man of few words, clumsily forming his sentences.

“With chaos resistance, you might be able to endure the ritual and become a transcendent… but this is not absolute. You still have a high probability of being corrupted and turning into a demon.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Sirian said optimistically, “In White Cliff Town, there aren’t many favored ones like me.”

Nun understood his determination and turned to look at Bo’er.

Bo’er had nothing more to say and stated straightforwardly, “There are still many ritual materials in the warehouse. If you need to use them, you can mobilize them at any time.”

He added, “Those things are useless to ordinary people; you can dispose of them as you wish.”

Sirian was slightly surprised.

Ritual materials related to transcendents must be very precious, but listening to Bo’er, it seemed there was still a considerable amount of them in this remote and impoverished White Cliff Town.

These things didn’t look like something White Cliff Town should possess.

“Alright, then I’ll get ready.”

Nun’s gaze lingered on Sirian for a moment, then he left without a word.

Bo’er watched Nun disappear into the dimness and said sadly, “This is not only a trial for you, Sirian, but also a test for your teacher.”

“For a teacher, the cruelest punishment is to kill his own student.”

Sirian did not respond. The discussion was over; it was time to get to the main event of the night.

Picking up his knife and fork, Sirian popped a potato chunk into his mouth.

Seeing him devouring his food, Bo’er teased.

“You’re really optimistic.”

“I’m just very confident,” Sirian wiped his mouth, “I believe I will succeed.”

“What if you don’t succeed?”

“There is no ‘if’,” Sirian said seriously, “When you think ‘if’, you’ve already lost confidence.”

“Hmm…”

Bo’er cut a small piece of beef and sighed, “Your recent statement reminds me of someone.”

“Who?”

“Your teacher’s first student.”

Sirian put down his knife and fork, quietly listening to the stories of the past.

“That was decades ago. I wasn’t many years old then, short, and would disappear in a crowd.”

Bo’er reminisced, “That child was about the same age as you are now. He was also here, in the discussions of the townspeople, firmly believing he could become a transcendent…”

The story didn’t continue, and Sirian already knew the ending.

“For Nun, that was a considerable blow. After that, he would still adopt children and train them to be his students, but the townspeople could see that Nun gradually became cold and unfeeling, completely different from his former self.”

“Sirian, you must succeed,” Bo’er encouraged, “Not just for the survival of White Cliff Town, but also for my daughter.”

“Ava likes you very much. If you die, she will be very sad.”

Sirian nodded silently.