In the City of Lights, a group of children stood beneath the temple, wearing rough cloth garnts marked with the symbolic sigils of various Alchemists. They gazed upward at the magnificent building, so different from what had stood there decades ago, their voices rising in wonder.
“Wow!” the children exclaid in unison. The sheer size and beauty of the structure overwheld them.
“When I grow up, I’ll definitely beco a servant of God Iva and a great Alchemist. Then I can enter this place too!” These children had been selected from various villages and towns to study as apprentices in the City of Lights’ alchemy workshops. This marked their first glimpse of the miraculous temple.
“Just like Lord Xin Ji!” Each child brimd with grand aspirations and hope, though most would never beco Alchemists or servants of God Iva. They would remain as workshop assistants, growing up to beco skilled craftsn.
“I’m different though. I want to go adventuring around the world and find where the spirits live,” one child declared, harboring different dreams.
“Spirits don’t live in the mortal realm. They dwell in the divine realm of sacred beings,” another child quickly countered.
“But I heard from so Suinhor people who ca the other day. They said there’s a spirit in the Sunrise Mountains with miraculous powers called ryl.” In this era, people’s understanding of the world ca primarily from others, as most never left their holand in their entire lives.
Stories brought by traveling rchant caravans and wandering musicians spread quickly, for these tales provided their only window into the outside world.
The temple had transford completely from its initial construction. Though still crowned with a do, it now glead with golden leaf that caught the sunlight in brilliant display.
Intricate patterns adorned the outer walls, predominantly featuring Cups of Desire, Sun Cups, boats, and alchemical creations. Each symbol connected intimately to God Iva’s origins and power.
Over these decades, nurous additional buildings had risen alongside the main temple. So stored sacrificial offerings to the divine, while others housed the priests.
These priests could only pray in the main hall outside the central temple. Only Xin Ji could truly et with God Iva.
People knew only that deep within the temple lay a garden, and within that garden stood a great sacred white divine tree.
It was said that God Iva dwelled there among its branches.
Pure white stone with intricate patterns paved the road before the temple, lined with tall, lush trees. The children circled this sacred path once before hurrying back as they noticed the setting sun.
“Oh no!”
“The Alchemist said we must return before dark. We’ll be punished if we’re late!”
“Run!”
The children sprinted away as the main road of the City of Lights gradually appeared before them.
The entire city had transford beyond recognition. A rich atmosphere of technology and artistry now perated every corner.
From the stone-paved streets to the various buildings, wooden houses, lighthouses, and workshops, all traces of primitive wilderness had vanished.
Many walking the streets wore cloth garnts or even elegant gowns, testant to the city’s prosperity and refinent of manners.
Most residents now worked as craftsn and artisans, alongside rchants who traveled from the pastoral plains and Suinhor.
All these changes stemd from the servants of God Iva: the Alchemists of the City of Lights and their art of Alchemy.
Over the years, more people had beco priests of God Iva, joining those who guarded the temple and served the divine.
So transford their anger into fla that easily lted various tals.
Others turned their jealousy into fire that burned away all impurities from various materials.
Still others converted their love into flas that could rge different tals together.
Countless unexpected desires and emotions could manifest as various unique fires.
The Alchemists’ desires and emotions rged with physical creation. By offering their all to the divine, they received their foundational power through divine covenant: their personal Alchemical Artifacts, the Lamps of Covenant.
In the past decade, Alchemists had discovered that by drawing out emotional power and sacrificing a portion of their strength, they could create universal Alchemical Artifacts entirely different from the Lamps of Covenant. These could be used by other Ability bearers or even ordinary people.
So could release lightning, others summon fierce winds, and still others bewitch minds.
Each of these Alchemical Artifacts proved invaluable. Alchemists rarely spent their power crafting them, usually reserving such items as trump cards.
In the City of Lights, Alchemists’ power levels ranged from first to third rank, designated as Servant Alchemists, Lower Alchemists, and Upper Alchemists.
A Servant Alchemist’s Lamp of Covenant contained only their desire and could affect only themselves.
A Lower Alchemist’s Lamp incorporated their spirit and could influence reality. This marked true attainnt of the alchemist’s art. According to their power, they could establish alchemy workshops and use their flas to create various tal items, dicines, and even other Alchemical Artifacts.
Though Alchemists called their items Alchemical Artifacts, inscriptions on the Divine Cup still classified them as Divine Artifacts alongside Miracle Tools and Life Artifacts.
An Upper Alchemist’s Lamp of Covenant contained their consciousness and could manifest Lamp Spirits.
Currently, only Xin Ji had reached this level.
Alchemists’ power differed from miraculous power. Miracle power earned its na by transcending mortal understanding, capable of creating almost anything imaginable.
Alchemical power could only forge Divine Artifacts. Alchemists then used their knowledge and skill with these artifacts to achieve their goals.
Over these decades, Alchemists had quietly divided into two schools.
The mainstream focused on crafting various tal items, using their flas to slt tals and create exquisite gold and silver works.
However, with Alchemists still rare, these refined tal works only supplied the city and traded with rchants from Suinhor.
The second school, including their strongest mber Xin Ji, specialized in creating powders to heal wounds and cure illness.
The foundations of alchemy and dicine were gradually taking shape in this city, destined to bloom beautifully in ti.
In the elders’ council hall of the City of Lights, ornate golden lamps illuminated the chamber.
The hall’s four walls depicted the legendary Sun Cup Flower Sea. The dod ceiling portrayed clouds and a star sea, where a golden-haired divine woman like a wind goddess drifted through the clouds.
Beneath the star sea, a man in silver robes rowed a famous boat, following closely in the goddess’s footsteps.
The council mbers sat in a circle, led by Grand Elder Xin Ji.
Decades had passed, yet Grand Elder Xin Ji showed no signs of aging. If anything, he appeared younger than before.
This stemd partly from his previous aged appearance being due to primitive living conditions. Now empowered by the Golden Lamp, he had naturally changed.
“Today,” he began, “King Srkel of the Suinhor city-state has written to us. He hopes to establish direct trade and even invites our Alchemists to the City of Fire Protection.”
“What are your thoughts on this?”
As Xin Ji sought everyone’s opinion, the council mbers debated vigorously.
“I agree. Suinhor has a vast population and territory. If we can sell our goods there, we’ll gain trendous wealth,” one supporter declared. His alchemy workshop used fla and unique thods to slt and refine tals, creating exquisite gold and silver works through skilled craftsn. Sales to Suinhor would bring significant profit.
“I disagree. These past years, Suinhor has sold us cloth, clothing, oil, and food. Those Suinhor rchants are greedy and crude, stealing so much of our wealth,” a conservative mber imdiately objected, strongly disliking these outsiders.
“King Srkel once t God Iva. I believe he can be trusted,” another recalled the poem “Divine Blessing,” expressing goodwill toward King Srkel.
As debate continued throughout the hall, Grand Elder Xin Ji finally proposed:
“Let us send soone to et with King Srkel before deciding.”
Everyone voted, and the matter was settled.
The City of Lights had no city lord. While the Grand Elder handled daily affairs, all important decisions required the council’s determination.
Most council mbers served as temple priests, Alchemists who had inherited Iva’s power.
After concluding the council eting, Xin Ji entered the temple.
He passed through the great hall and corridors, proceeding deep into a garden filled with Cups of Desire.
At the garden’s center stood a snow-white tree over ten ters tall, known as the Divine Tree. God Iva sat among its branches, gazing beyond the temple walls.
Though hidden by leaves and difficult to see from below, Xin Ji knew the divine being resided there. He prostrated himself beneath the tree.
Xin Ji related the council’s discussion and King Srkel’s letter.
Though he didn’t directly ask for divine guidance, his intent was clear. He sought divine revelation on how to proceed.
From the white tree above, Iva’s gaze fell upon Xin Ji.
“Why do you co to ask ?”
Xin Ji answered: “Because King Srkel is blessed by you.”
Iva replied: “My blessings are my own affair.”
“If I favor him, I can give him what I wish directly.”
“How can your nation’s fate change rely because of my preferences?”
But Xin Ji disagreed: “Everything we have cos from you.”
Iva countered: “All you have cos from , which makes you my servant.”
“But this city was created by countless people. Their effort and wisdom did not co from .”
“I cannot and will not sacrifice their efforts simply because I favor soone.”
“I gave you prosperous lives, and you offer prayers to the great Dream Sovereign. This is a fair exchange.”
“Beyond this, I need nothing more from you.”
Xin Ji viewed Iva as a deity, while Iva saw everything as rely an exchange.
He lacked true awareness of his divine status.
While he grasped what faith ant, its power to drive people to such passionate devotion remained a mystery to him.
Whenever he sat in his tree watching thousands below prostrate themselves and cry out in passionate worship, bewildernt filled his gaze.
He could not understand the source of their frenzy or what he had done to stir such intense emotions.
Prostrated beneath the tree, Xin Ji sensed that the divine being only required them to complete a certain task.
He vaguely understood that God Iva’s ti in the mortal realm might not last long.
Once his mission was complete, this deity who had descended to the mortal realm would return to his true ho beyond this world.
He always sat in the tree gazing toward the Sunrise Mountains and the sky above.
Perhaps he yearned for that star sea, rembering his days ferrying the dreams of the departed in God’s realm.
Finally, Xin Ji could not contain himself.
“Divine One!”
“You have given us so much, yet we have done nothing for you.”
Iva shook his head: “Have you not all been doing things already?”
Xin Ji replied: “Those are rely trivial matters, my master, Lord Iva who governs desire!”
“What more can we do for you?”
Iva pondered this, suddenly rembering sothing.
He recalled that night by the forest campfire when Prince Srkel, still a prince then, played his harp and sang praise to King Alpens.
And Iva himself had told a story about himself.
A tale of Henir and his brother Wisdom.
He smiled and said: “Then write a book for !”
Xin Ji heard the word “book” for the first ti, as paper did not yet exist in this world.
Most snake people recorded writing on clay or wooden tablets.
A few used special parchnt or cloth scrolls as writing materials, but at great expense.
“Book?”
“What is a book?”
Iva explained: “Sothing that records words.”
Xin Ji thought God Iva wanted verses of praise and quickly agreed.
“Divine One.”
“I shall invite the world’s finest poets and musicians to compose the most beautiful lodies and magnificent verses.”
But Iva shook his head: “No, no, no. We need neither poets nor musicians.”
Xin Ji felt confused. How could they compose poetry without them?
Iva told Xin Ji: “Because I do not want poetry, but a story.”
“And I shall be the one to tell it,” Iva declared.
Xin Ji’s spirit stirred with excitent.
Indeed, what could be more beautiful than verses spoken by a deity?
What could be more sacred and grand than a deity’s own tale?
Xin Ji bowed respectfully: “To hear the divine story and record your sacred words is the highest honor for your servant.”
Iva said: “The story shall be called ‘Tales of the Spirits,'” Iva announced.
Xin Ji imdiately understood this would be a story about spirits, those sacred beings, surely connected to the great Dream Sovereign.
Iva first told the tale of the spirit Polo.
“The spirit yearned for the outside world. Though he lived in God’s garden with divine favor, he still longed for the freedom of open skies.”
“One day, he said to God.”
“God, let
taste the finest foods and sll the sweetest flowers in your stead.”
“Let
feel the mountain winds and ocean waves, hear travelers tell of their life journeys and interesting tales.”
“I shall beco your eyes and ssenger, bringing back news and tidings from afar.”
God saw through the spirit’s clever plan: “You simply want to go out and play!”
But in the end, God allowed the spirit to leave.
The story never nad the spirits, and referred to the Trilobite Man simply as a mortal.
Xin Ji quickly recorded the divine story on clay tablets with a wooden stylus. One tablet after another filled the ground beside him.
Then Iva began the second story.
This retold the tale from “Divine Blessing” but from a spirit’s perspective, describing how she blessed all mortals.
It also portrayed the saint’s salvation and the birth of the dream star sea.
The third story spoke of spirits and wishes, told in a much lighter tone.
It brimd with childlike innocence.
“The spirit rode a hot air balloon from God’s realm, seeking the world’s most beautiful wishes.”
“…”
The stories continued from night until dawn.
The final tale spoke of the spirit Simila and her performance troupe.
When the stories finished, Xin Ji finally understood what manner of beings spirits truly were.
The phrases he had heard before—the Creator’s beloved children, sacred spirits, most beautiful divine beings—suddenly took on vivid aning.
Xin Ji lifted his gaze to the lush leaves above and the half-glimpsed divine shadow in their heights.
His thoughts flew to that distant divine realm.
“If one day I could reach the Creator’s garden.”
“I would surely speak with these beautiful sacred spirits.”
Then he laughed at himself.
How could a re mortal hope to reach the Creator’s Sun Cup Flower Sea?
As Iva finished telling the spirit tales, dawn began to break.
He looked down at the many clay tablets and shook his head.
“Recording words on clay tablets proves most inconvenient.”
But Xin Ji said: “Divine One, this remains the easiest and most practical thod available.”
Iva told Xin Ji: “Very well.”
“As paynt for helping spread these stories, I shall give you sothing.”
Iva descended from the tall white tree.
As the sun slowly rose on the horizon, the white tree stood as a symbol of divinity and purity.
The great deity touched his servant Xin Ji’s forehead, granting guidance and blessing.
Information transferred directly through the power of Ability into the depths of Xin Ji’s consciousness.
Xin Ji instantly understood what God Iva had bestowed and the true aning of books.
“The art of papermaking.”
thods for creating paper appeared in Xin Ji’s mind, simple craft steps that ordinary people could easily follow, appearing one after another before his eyes.
In his mind’s eye, he saw sheets of white paper bound together into a complete book.
Xin Ji awakened from the vision.
He marveled at the divine gift, understanding what such an invention would an.
This convenient thod of recording words was sothing he had never imagined before.
This was a divine creation.
It represented God’s guidance for mortals, God Iva’s blessing upon them.
Yet to Iva, such things held no particular wonder, as the spirits’ realm contained many such creations.
Iva had simply made another exchange with his followers, trading what he considered the unremarkable art of papermaking to Xin Ji and the City of Lights in exchange for them writing a book to spread spirit stories throughout the world.
Yet for mortals, this gift would revolutionize not only their present lives but the destiny of their entire race.
The mont Xin Ji awoke, his eyes searched for the divine figure.
But the deity had departed.
Yet the divine voice still echoed in Xin Ji’s ears: “Oh, and do not write my na.”
“These are spirit tales.”
“I am rely their ssenger.”
Overwheld with gratitude, he could only prostrate himself before the divine presence.
“rciful God Iva!”
“We shall forever rember your greatness, your gifts, and the future you have granted us.”
—————
In an alchemy workshop of the City of Lights, Xin Ji and several Alchemists worked through the night, guiding craftsn and even joining the work themselves.
“Hurry!”
“Is it ready?”
“Take it out… take it out.”
In the courtyard, everyone watched with anticipation.
The first paper erged from the wooden fra. A craftsman carefully lifted it, presenting it to Xin Ji.
Though rough, it was undoubtedly the world’s first paper.
Everyone erupted in celebration. The entire workshop filled with cheers as people shouted and embraced in excitent.
Even Grand Elder Xin Ji could not contain his joy.
“Paper.”
“This is the paper God spoke of.”
Xin Ji carefully laid the paper flat and wrote snake people’s script upon it.
Both writing and storage proved remarkably simple and convenient.
Moreover, the papermaking thod proved uncomplicated, with easily obtained materials.
No longer did writing each character feel like burning money.
On the paper he wrote: “City of Lights.”
Xin Ji held these characters high, telling everyone:
“We are all God’s flas.”
“God lit our fires and guides our path forward.”
“Through this paper we shall eternally preserve the divine tales, our stories with God.”
Sheet after sheet of paper erged from the alchemy workshop, spreading throughout the City of Lights.
Eventually they would reach the entire world.
Clay tablets filled Xin Ji’s room as he carefully transcribed their words onto paper with a reed pen.
He ticulously bound each sheet together, covering them with a leather case.
With reverent care, he embossed the title God had chosen onto the leather cover.
“Tales of the Spirits.”
This beca the world’s first paper-bound story, longer than re verses.
It was also the first fairy tale.
Yet every tale within was true, recording events that had actually occurred.
It stood as both fairy tale and divine myth, history made legend.
The advent of papermaking began slowly transforming the era at its roots.
It made sharing knowledge and techniques no longer difficult. Civilization would no longer depend on oral tradition or weather-worn stone inscriptions.
Instead, writing would beco accessible to most people, knowledge all could know.
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