Chapter 1426: Chapter 13: Pacifying the Furious Spirit (13)
Father Kaman had so new questions that needed answers from the Hurd elder.
Watching Kaman’s figure disappear behind the tent flap, Winters exhaled a long sigh and wearily collapsed onto the camp bed. However, he accidentally agitated his eye injury, causing tears to uncontrollably stream from his left eye again.
The sun was setting, and the light from the skylight no longer reached the ground.
The side tent seed to transform into a cave where ancient humans once dwelled—narrow, dim, isolated from the world—instinctively evoking a sense of security.
Winters lay in the small felt tent, gazing at the changing clouds through the skylight, pondering silently.
As a frequent visitor to the injured, Winters didn’t need a doctor and could estimate the recovery ti for his eye injury:
Pain, about a week to alleviate;
Bruising, about two weeks to fade;
Self-esteem… was almost fully restored.
Overall, achieving a confession from a priest in exchange for pain, bruising, and self-esteem was a minor victory.
If this opportunity could also bring the Reformist Sect to light, it would undoubtedly be a major triumph.
The ruthless ans of the Reformist Sect in silencing an entire monastery to hide one person still kept Winters wary, like a thorn in the flesh.
Winters had always disliked secret societies; ever since he left the Ivory Tower, boarded the Bandit Gull, and stepped into the vast world, every underground group he encountered had never done any good, nor left a good impression on him.
Not to ntion, as a guardian and beneficiary of orthodox social order, he naturally resented groups and associations that eroded public authority.
So rather than letting the Reformist Sect remain in hiding—like a thorn in his side—Winters was determined to drag the Reformist Sect out of the shadows.
Therefore, taking a punch was truly nothing.
He might even humorously offer his right cheek to Kaman for symtry if Kaman sought the beauty of balance.
But when it involved the Wasteland, the tribes, and the Hurd people, the situation beca complicated.
If everything was as Kaman speculated—the Arianism had been spreading in the Great Wilderness for hundreds or even thousands of years, with a “church” surviving until now.
Then there must be so elents of the “Church of Oneness” mixed into today’s Hurd people’s beliefs.
The proof was the Wendouer people in the palace tent, who not only didn’t exhibit the usual hostility towards foreign missionaries and “distant relatives” who converted to the Public Church but even showed considerable respect.
This ant that they didn’t just fail to see the elder as an “other,” they didn’t even entertain the thought that “he might be an other,” naturally viewing the elder’s faith as the sa as the one they were born with.
Of course, there might be… so… slight differences…
But it’s still the sa thing—after all, no difference could surpass those among the tribes.
Winters pondered, “Although the current Hurd people undoubtedly would be viewed as ‘heretics,’ if a Hurd person had unknowingly already accepted part of the teachings, does it an he’s naturally more likely to accept other teachings? Or even formally convert?
“Or would the similarity that isn’t quite similar lead to greater mutual hatred?
“If things continue to develop, will the Herd Wasteland beco the next Northern Territory?”
Thinking of the possibility of the Herd Wasteland becoming the next Northern Territory and the possibility of the Hurd people wholly converting, a complex and peculiar emotion surged within Winters.
Disgust, curiosity, confusion, indifference, surprise, apathy… various hues vied for dominance.
Because the implications of this matter were too profound.
So profound that his entanglent with the Reformist Sect paled in comparison to the event that could affect millions.
But he also understood that his ability to influence this was very limited—at least for now.
Though lying on a simple camp bed in a small felt tent, he felt as though he were in a vast river.
Behind him, rushing from the past, was the millennium-long evangelism of Arianism.
Ahead, streaming towards the future, were the souls of the Hurd people, uncertain of their destination.
People always instinctively believed they lived at the end of ti, assuming the things they saw would persist into the future.
Like the Ancient Empire people, sipping wine in their grand and luxurious bathhouses, believed the Empire, like their baths built on a solid granite block, would last forever.
But today we know, the wine of the Ancient Empire was laced with lead poison, the ruins of the baths remain, yet the Empire has vanished. And soday, even the granite beneath their baths will erode and crumble into dust.
Through repeated trials, Winters had slowly learned to view the world with a dynamic perspective.
Today’s enemy might beco tomorrow’s ally;
Today’s partner might beco tomorrow’s adversary;
A thriving tropolis today might one day turn into a sea of fire;
Today the Hurd people are “barbarians,” “heretics,” not considered “people” by so. Perhaps one day, they might beco part of the Alliance, but they might also never accept it or be accepted.
Just as they might retain their current beliefs, or convert like the nations in the Northern Territory.
However, when all these happen, the people of today might no longer be around.
But conversely, just because today’s people won’t see it doesn’t an it won’t happen in the future.
Winters shook his head, rising from the river of ti.
He chose not to think of matters after death or the future path of the Hurd people for now.
He refocused his attention on the present, the imdiate mont, and pondered the question: “What impact might the presence of the Arianism have on the Newly Reclaid Outlands?”
He realized he needed more information.
For now, he felt like a commander utterly ignorant of enemy intel.
How much influence does Arianism have among the Hed Tribes and in the Newly Reclaid Outlands?
Had the Reformist Sect ever interfered with the Arianism sect?
If so, what was their purpose?
If not, how would the Public Church react if Kaman reported the situation to the Cardinals?
The soldier’s instinct reminded him that he must gather more intelligence, the more the better.
There might be a battle, and there might not be, but only by detecting as much enemy information as possible could he stand a chance of victory when the battle cos.
Moreover, he needed more help.
At that mont, Winters profoundly missed Brother Reed. If the old man were still here, he’d surely laugh and scold him a few tis before analyzing the situation and offering strategies.
However, Brother Reed was gone, and at this thought, Winters felt a pang of sadness.
In contrast to Kaman…
Kaman!
The very thought of Kaman made Winters seethe with rage.
“That guy Kaman!” Winters thought angrily, “Always keeping things hidden, never willing to say anything!”
Winters leaped up from the camp bed, preparing to find Kaman.
Yet after a brief consideration, he lay back down.
“It’s not dark yet; it’s inconvenient to et anyone,” Winters thought, gently rubbing his swollen eye socket, “Better wait until Kaman returns.”
Just as Winters was ntally preparing to “appreciate the beauty of symtry,” Pierre’s voice ca from outside the tent.
“Sir.” Pierre’s voice was polite yet cold, “Lord Yasin wishes to see you.”
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