Unlike the devastated Qinghui Territory, the forest before them, protected by an ovular, azure Barrier, had not suffered a single trace of war. Any Chaos Creatures that dared to cross the Barrier would be scoured by the purest Power of Order from the Holy Spirit, disintegrating on the spot.
After all, a Holy Spirit itself was the purest of Order Creatures, a natural enemy to Chaos.
Even if the Pure Holy Spirit’s personality was disappointingly flawed, she still possessed the power she was supposed to have; it hadn’t been short-changed in the slightest.
That was why the Devourer had laid siege with its Chaos Army for over two years, intending to slowly corrode the Barrier with its Chaos Domain, only launching a desperate, all-out assault in the final stages.
"Let’s go. We’re going in."
Westheid glanced at the Demon corpses left outside the Barrier, then strode into the Holy Land.
The mont he passed through the Barrier, Westheid realized just how insanely the Pure Holy Spirit had built up the Holy Land.
If the outside was a scorched-earth Hell too cruel to look at, then just on the other side of the Barrier, within the Holy Land Garden, was a scene like the Garden of Eden.
The air was filled with the songs of birds and the scent of flowers under a bright sky.
Pure moonlight cascaded down from above the Holy Land, filtering through the dense leaves to cast warm patches of light.
It was clearly moonlight, yet it seed even brighter and more radiant than the sun.
A gentle, comfortable breeze brushed against his skin, dispersing the lingering, cold, murderous aura from the successive battles. It felt so good that Duke Qinghui couldn’t help but shiver.
In the verdant woods, small, snow-white beasts and birds played and sang on the branches. Below, a riot of colorful flowers vied for attention, nearly blanketing every inch of the ground.
Even in the Holy Tree Palace, Westheid had never seen so many varieties of rare flowers and exotic plants.
Yet amid such a dense and beautiful expanse of flora, there were no insects or predators—only unbelievably adorable fluffy creatures making soft COOING sounds as they affectionately nuzzled against Westheid’s and Yolanda’s feet.
It was as if in this dreamlike world, nothing ugly or aggressive existed.
However, Westheid felt no comfort. Instead, his brow twitched violently.
His fists clenched tight.
A single glance was enough for him to see that everything before him—the trees, the flowers, the moonlight, the small beasts—was all sustained by a jaw-droppingly extravagant amount of Magic Power.
Only the Holy Spirit, drawing unstintingly from the Magic Pool, could create such a fairytale garden.
’The Pure Holy Spirit certainly knows how to live! I just wonder how much thought she actually put into the Barrier’s defenses.’
His companion, however, failed to notice Westheid’s fists clenching so hard they audibly creaked. Yolanda was completely imrsed in the joy of entering the Holy Land.
"So this is the heart of Purity Forest, the Holy Land of the Qinghui Race?"
The platinum-blonde girl moved forward as if on a pilgrimage, treading lightly for fear of damaging a single plant.
Her dark violet eyes carefully took in everything around her. But rather than being captivated by the beautiful scenery, Yolanda was overjoyed by the very fact of "entering the Holy Land."
Because in the Qinghui Territory, the Holy Land was the most sacred of places. Even within the Qinghui Clan, only the reigning Duke Qinghui would go to the Holy Land once to receive the Pure Holy Spirit’s blessing.
Other than that, this blessed land, where legend said the Holy Spirit had chosen the first people of Qinghui, accepted no other visitors.
Yolanda had never even dread that she would be granted such an honor.
"Brother, am I really allowed to enter? To have an audience with the Ancestor together? Did the Ancestor agree?"
Westheid nodded.
"Of course she agreed. But I need to correct you on one thing. From now on, you don’t ask whether the Pure Holy Spirit agrees. You ask for my opinion."
"Brother...?"
Yolanda’s beautiful eyes widened in shock at his sowhat blasphemous words, but in the end, she simply bowed her head.
"Yes, I understand."
The siblings continued through the Holy Land. The scenery in the garden was so beautiful it felt like walking into a dream, but Westheid was in no mood to stop and admire it.
He quickened his pace, following the increasingly strong call in his blood, and arrived at the very heart of Purity Forest.
Beyond the trees, the view suddenly opened up, revealing a shallow lake.
Calling it a lake wasn’t quite right; it was clearly a wide pond, looking to be only ankle-deep.
On the clear, erald water floated green lotus leaves and blossoms of cherry pink and white. The water’s surface glittered, filled with moonlight.
Around the shallow lake, smooth marble statues spouted hot spring water, adding a swirling mist to the air above it.
Such a beautiful sight was truly worthy of the na Holy Land.
Yet all of this paled in comparison to the beautiful figure at the center of the lake.
Floating on the shallow lake, her body curled up slightly, was a white-haired girl so beautiful it was breathtaking.
Her soft, smooth white hair was adorned with laurel leaves and cherry blossoms, winding around her shoulders and arms.
Jewels hung from her pointed, Elf-like ears.
A translucent, light-gauze dress, white with hints of jade green, did little to hide the girl’s perfect figure.
Vast expanses of her snow-white, supple skin looked like a masterpiece sculpted by a Celestial God himself. From her smooth back to her impossibly slender waist, every part of her was bathed in a pure radiance.
Her tranquil sleeping face was the very definition of "beauty."
To describe her with words like "exquisite" or "stunning" would be too shallow and inadequate. To be precise, it wasn’t that she appeared "beautiful"; it was that the very word "beauty" itself seed to have been tailor-made for her.
With the exception of the creatures of Chaos Undivided, any Order Creature—regardless of race, nation, faith, or custom—
—any mortal with a concept of aesthetics would unanimously agree: she was the personification of pure beauty.
The white-haired girl rely lay quietly on the water’s surface, yet it was as if the entire world was made to sync with her elegant breaths.
Oh, not "as if." In this Holy Land, the Pure Holy Spirit was indeed the one and only center. The rise and fall of the girl’s full chest brought forth the white mist that gathered and dispersed over the lake.
"Is... is she the Holy Spirit Ancestor?"
Yolanda asked in a hushed whisper, barely breathing, after a long, stunned silence.
"It’s obvious."
Westheid said flatly.
He, too, was sowhat surprised. At the ti of his ascension, Westheid had only heard her voice; he had not seen the Pure Holy Spirit’s physical form. In fact, it was likely that no one before had ever seen the Pure Holy Spirit in this state.
It had to be said that being good-looking truly was a privilege. Westheid’s nacing aura imdiately softened, and he found himself subconsciously studying the white-haired girl for a few extra monts.
’My original mindset was, "Alright, old hag, ti to drop so Gold Coins." Suddenly, it changed to, "Ancestor, I see you’ve still got it."’
’Guess I have to show so filial piety now. It’s just that this "piety" might... turn into sothing else.’
As Westheid waded into the lake, the soundly sleeping Pure Holy Spirit slowly opened her eyes and looked toward him.
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