144: The Power of Faith (4,000 words)

Chapter 143: The Power of Faith (4,000 words)

In the slums, in those corners where even words struggled to survive,

people who had lost everything huddled in the mud of their suffering.

Battered refugees crouched in the reeking shadows,

surrounded by rotting leftovers and puddles of foul water.

For them, death seemed no worse than their current lives.

“Come,” Arthur said to Flora, “we need to gather more people.”

The two of them, leading the rest of the Mountain People, walked silently as always, through the muddy streets and into the heart of the slum.

Flora didn't like making eye contact with the people here.

They looked almost like the dead.

Their tattered clothes hung loosely on their emaciated bodies, their cheeks were deeply sunken, their skin was covered in sores, and their hair was dry and yellow.

Their gazes were filled with hostility and scrutiny.

In Flora's eyes, they were scum, the refuse of this world, long since having learned to bow to fear.

As Arthur strode through the wretched kingdom of these people,

he called out to them: “Come to me, my sons and daughters!

“Forget your pain, forget your despair!

“New strength lies within you! Come to me!”

Surprisingly, some of them actually followed.

At first, only a few cautiously crept out of their dark hovels, seemingly unwilling to believe that anything could change their predetermined fate.

However, when the first person limped into the open space, a few more followed, staring at Arthur with suspicious eyes.

Then, more joined, some stepping with calloused feet, others leaning heavily on the shoulders of those beside them.

“Why are we doing this?” Flora whispered to Arthur.

She had to jog to keep up with his pace.

“These people can barely stand; they're not only sick but also completely lacking in fighting spirit.”

Arthur smiled.

“Look at them, Flora,” he said, “don't be quick to judge.”

Even with Arthur's words, Flora did not change her opinion.

Since knowing Arthur, she had continuously witnessed his righteous deeds and kindness.

He always seemed to be benevolent towards people, just like the Mother Earth beneath their feet; anyone could walk over him. This was completely different from the doctrines she believed in.

Forest Mother taught them that survival of the fittest was the natural order of the world.

In the face of cruel nature, those who could not adapt were bound to be eliminated, and it was only right.

And these people before her were precisely those who should be eliminated.

They created no value; apart from wasting food and medicine, their existence was meaningless.

If Arthur insisted on recruiting these people, it would only drag down the entire Pioneer Group.

However, she said nothing.

Because she had never seen Arthur look so resolute.

Since stepping into this quagmire, he seemed to have transformed, and Flora could see the sorrow on his face.

So, she understood it was best not to argue with him.

The other Mountain People probably realized this too, and obediently followed behind Arthur.

They arrived at a narrow passage between two rows of shacks.

The open ground was covered in dirt and straw, along with discarded vegetable peels and animal feces.

When Arthur turned to face the crowd following him,

a pig, so thin its ribs were clearly visible, walked past him, grunting angrily.

He began to climb a mountain of garbage.

He didn't care that his boots sank deep into the filth.

When he reached the top, he bent down and picked up a foul-smelling object.

He held it high, displaying it to the gathered crowd.

Flora cautiously looked around.

Flora cautiously looked around; hundreds of sick, pitiful people had already gathered beside her.

Under her gaze, more people emerged from their nests of despair and disease, their gaunt faces filled with curiosity.

“This is how others see you!

Arthur shouted, showing the rotting trash in his fist to the surrounding people, “They think you are filth, garbage, the festering sores and plagues that this city tries to forget.

“You are hotbeds and incubators of sin.”

Flora carefully observed the crowd.

What they were, Arthur didn't need to remind them.

These words would only anger them.

She saw her companion, Eileen Moonbrook, gazing intently at Arthur, with an expression that could only be described as infatuation.

In fact, as early as Arthur's first visit to the mountain village, Moonbrook had proposed to the elders that she wished to follow Arthur.

Among all the Mountain People, she was undoubtedly the most fervent towards Arthur.

Some refugees stood very close to her; their smell was almost as bad as the garbage heap.

There were many of them, and they looked easily provoked even if they did nothing.

“Are you just going to give up like this?” Arthur roared, crushing the clump of slime in his hand and letting it fall to the ground, “Have you never had a higher aspiration than waiting to die?

“Or have your souls and dreams already withered like your bodies?

“Look at yourselves, alive yet merely wasting food.”

A low murmur of discontent rose from the crowd.

A pitiful man with a rat-like face, long fangs, a long scar over his eye, and a messy stubble on his chin, began to mutter angrily.

“Who made you this way?

“You yourselves, and this unjust world.” Arthur, completely unaffected, continued to shout, “And tragically, you let them succeed.

“You let them drive you into this stinking abyss, never once resisting them.

“The rest of this world tells you that this is what you deserve, that your status will never be better than it is now.

”

These words caught people's attention.

More and more people came to the back of the crowd, supporting their weak bodies and desperate spirits,

looking up at the magnificently robed priest who had come among them.

Flora swallowed nervously, for there was no turning back now.

All exits from this gloomy space were blocked.

She stared straight ahead, only hoping her lord knew what he was doing.

She pushed through the crowd and came to Moonbrook's side.

As the most fragile member among them, Moonbrook was very likely to be the first target of attack.

“He is awakening them,” the young girl said when Flora approached, “just as Forest Mother awakens dormant seeds.”

“I'm not sure,” Flora whispered back, “the lord is infuriating these people, and he's doing a pretty good job of it.”

“Anger can bring destruction, but it can also become nourishment.”

“You are the wisest among us, even Derek can't compare to you.

“But now, can we speak more plainly?”

Moonbrook's gaze never left Arthur. “Do you not have faith in the Saint, sister?”

Flora smiled faintly and said, “I have faith, but I am more concerned about the Saint's safety.

“You know, I chose to follow him to protect him better.”

“You are wrong,” Arthur said, “and they are wrong.

“You can do better, you can live like a true human being!

“If you wish, you can even be like me, wear this robe, and become a follower of Shanteya!

“You can become the goddess's most excellent servants, her purest servants, her most destructive and powerful servants.”

As he spoke, Arthur stamped his foot on the garbage heap beneath him and said, “Because even garbage can nourish the Mother Earth,

and eventually become a part of Mother Earth.”

He shouted this sentence with a magical art, and everyone heard it clearly.

The anger in their hearts gradually subsided, and driven by curiosity, they watched every move of the young priest with tired eyes.

“Do you not believe me?” Arthur stared at them, questioning each one, “Do you think I have come to deceive you, as many have done before?

“Do you think I will demand money from you, yet give nothing in return?”

Arthur laughed. Flora frowned; she had never seen such a fervent side of Arthur before.

He was undoubtedly inciting these people, and it was already showing results.

“What I demand is more than that!

“I want your souls; I ask you to give your souls to the goddess, to lift them up, to let the goddess reshape them.

“I ask you to offer yourselves, to surrender what little will you have left, and entrust it to the coming trials.”

He took out the holy scripture from his person.

As the holy scripture was held high, its light cut through the damp air, bringing a moment of freshness.

Is it glowing? Am I mad, or is it truly emitting golden light?

People began to murmur.

Flora felt her spirit invigorated; the goddess's great power was unlike the cold sunlight, it carried warmth, bringing hope.

Arthur looked incredibly sacred at this moment.

He stood knee-deep in feces and slime, but this did not diminish his grandeur in the slightest.

“You can break free from all of this,” Arthur roared, his deafening voice echoing in the yard, “You can fight with a passion for life.

“You can fight for a better you, you can fight for the merciful goddess, become her chosen, become the extension of her will.

“Bleeding for you, weeping for you, grieving for you.

“You will be her sharp instrument to purify this place, you will be the inheritors of her will.”

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder.

They were no longer angry, but excited.

Flora saw the man with the gapped teeth clench his fist, looking up at Arthur, his eyes filled with ecstasy.

“Mother Earth blesses those who fight for themselves.” Arthur roared, pointing the glowing staff at each person in turn; under the influence of the light spell, the leaves on the staff indeed seemed to shimmer with golden light.

“Stand up, forget your despair! Stand up, forget your sickness! Stand up, become great!”

The crowd surged forward excitedly.

“Will you follow me?” Arthur demanded, staring at them.

“Yes!”

The answer was faint, scattered among the crowd, appearing fragmented.

“Will you follow me?” Arthur asked again, his voice growing stronger.

“Yes!”

This time the sound was louder.

The men straightened their bodies, arched their hunched backs, and pulled their shoulders back.

The women shed their haggard expressions and smiled again.

“Will you follow me?” Arthur asked, his voice challenging, echoing in the confined space like roaring cannons.

“Yes!”

The crowd erupted in enthusiastic cheers, surging towards Arthur like a breaking tide, desperately reaching out their hands to him.

Flora wanted to step forward to protect him, but in the face of the surging crowd, she was powerless.

“Look, sister,” Moonbrook said with an ecstatic expression, “the seeds will eventually sprout and break through the soil; no one can resist the power of faith.”

Flora watched everything before her.

Among all the followers of Forest Mother, she was considered a rational one.

She followed the Mother Goddess's pragmatism, eliminating the weak parts of the tribe and preserving the strong.

She had never imagined that those weak ones she had once eliminated, when gathered together, could unleash such powerful strength.

And the being guiding all of this was now gazing kindly at these weak ones, the light of the holy scripture enveloping him.

“Stand up, for this land!” he shouted.

“For this land!” the crowd responded loudly.

“Stand up, for the goddess!”

“For the goddess!”

It was then that Flora realized she was shouting along with everyone, unknowingly caught up in this sudden fervor.

“Stand up, for yourselves!”

“For ourselves!”

She shouted with all her might, extending her hands like the others.

A desire to fight suddenly surged within her, a desire to prove herself, to become one of the chosen.

The holy scripture rose again, outlining the silhouette of resistance in the faint sunlight.

The roar of the crowd was deafening; they punched, kicked, and shouted loudly.

They were no longer a disorganized rabble, but an army.

Flora felt incredible, turning to look at the people, who were captivated by the rapid transformation Arthur had brought about.

Beside her was a woman who had lost an arm, a woman who barely had a decent piece of clothing, and whom Flora had been certain had had her hope and life destroyed by the world's malice long, long ago.

And now, tears sparkled in her eyes as she stretched out her arms towards Arthur, as if the priest was the embodiment of a god.

Her thin chest was held high, as brave and fearless as a noble knight.

“For myself, for myself, I want to live, to live like a human being—”

She cried, trembling with excitement, her eyes brimming with tears of rekindled hope.

Arthur allowed people to touch his body, grab his face, and touch the holy scripture.

Before coming, he had prepared a speech, but after witnessing the plight of these people, he abandoned those empty words.

After coming to this world, he had been to the slums, but had never walked among these pitiful people.

For a moment, he felt as if he had returned to those days of walking on rugged mountain paths.

He, like all those with unwavering faith, was fulfilling his original promise through his actions.

“I am a follower of Mother Earth,” he thought, “but he is also a follower who understands and fights for his homeland's tragic past.”

Since gods exist in this world, then make good use of this power.

Any power is good, as long as it can help these poor people escape their suffering.

He spoke again, shouting to those people: “Follow me, let this world see your determination, go and reclaim what belongs to you.

“Follow me, and I will make you live like human beings.”

He walked down the garbage heap, and the crowd automatically made way for him.

“Follow me!” he said, “Fight for yourselves!”

And so, this mighty throng, once not even called human, followed the young priest at the forefront, walking out of this quagmire.

“You don't have to worry about his safety, sister,” Moonbrook said to Flora, “he is protecting us.”