"Your Highness, the entire Soron Mountain Range and the surrounding area of twenty thousand ters are now fully under martial law."
"I’m aware."
Gazing at the dark entrance embedded in the mountainside, Ivyst spoke lightly.
After a mont of silence, she suddenly turned to look at her subordinates behind her.
Aphia, Morris, and others were all present, not only that, even Rhein, Glaya, and many from Augusta Manor had also arrived at the scene.
Even Duke Tierus was there with a large number of troops, waiting at the entrance to the underground relics.
The purpose of everyone today was to complete the temporary mission assigned by Saint Laurent VI.
Furthermore, even the churches in Orn City sent out plenty of Transcendents.
For so unknown reason, the previously chaotic Heavenly Principle Church had also regained order and gathered over a hundred Transcendents who were similarly standing by.
This might have sothing to do with Second Prince Felit.
Of course, as the main force of this mission, only people like Ivyst had actually approached the target—the underground relics.
The clergy and Transcendents from those churches were rely there to contain any potential Transcendent contamination from leaking out, waiting far away outside the Soron Mountain Range.
"Wait outside," Ivyst said calmly, "I alone am sufficient for this mission."
If it hadn’t been for the substantial rewards promised by Saint Laurent VI, she wouldn’t have brought her subordinates here.
If she alone could complete the mission and yet allow everyone to receive dals and accolades, it would certainly be a very profitable deal.
"Your Highness, do you really not need our assistance?"
Aphia asked, stepping forward with a look of concern.
Ivyst gently touched her head, "No need, what help could a Third Rank offer?"
Although she said this, the real reason was simply not wanting her subordinates to be hard.
Hearing this, Aphia pouted and then retreated into the crowd.
"Then, I wish Your Highness a successful mission."
Duke Tierus said.
Ivyst nodded, turned, and walked into the underground relics.
Seeing this, Glaya finally relaxed.
As he wiped the sweat from his forehead, he quietly said to his elder brother Rhein beside him, "Brother, why are those church people also participating in this mission? And why are they so guarded against us?"
Rhein gave him a cold glance and said nothing.
Seeing this, Glaya was not annoyed, "According to what that guy Lynn said, there’s sothing odd when things are abnormal."
"Could it be that the true rank of that Sealed Object is not just Level 2, but higher than we imagined?"
"Shut up."
...
In the cellar, Milani was doing her usual checks on the status of various Sealed Objects.
As a Third Rank Transcendent believer in "Saint’s Wisdom," she, like Lynn at the mont, didn’t possess much combat ability but had devoted her talent perfectly to research and the handling of Sealed Objects.
Humming a tune, she hovered around.
Suddenly, Milani seed to rember sothing, touching her chest.
Then a look of surprise appeared on her face: "I forgot to ask for the necklace back."
She shook her head, Lynn’s grinning face subconsciously surfacing in her mind, montarily unsure of what to say.
At that mont, an unusual sound suddenly ca from one of the containnt chambers nearby.
Milani frowned, listening for a while.
She then faintly perceived a sound like mud and water mixed together and stirred, a "gurgle gurgle" noise.
Milani glanced at the number of the containnt chamber and her expression turned somber.
3-0098, the room containing the Torture Chair.
The object itself wasn’t a major issue; the conditions required to contain it were very simple.
The key was the person sitting on the chair.
After the Imperial Princess destroyed the Creation Sect, killing most of its mbers, she had captured a group of high-ranking mbers for interrogation.
Since no valuable information had been gleaned, the matter had been put on hold.
And now, the person in the Torture Chair was the Great Priest of the Creation Sect, Askin Proctor.
As the leader of the sect, he naturally received the most attention.
Milani hesitated for a mont before taking out a key and opening the door.
Upon seeing the situation inside, she froze in place.
The Great Priest, who should have been sitting on the chair and enduring the baptism of the Torture Chair, had sohow turned into a wriggling mass of black mud.
While still maintaining a semblance of human form, it had clearly lost all consciousness and sanity.
No, this wasn’t him!
It was a replica!
Looking at the pool of black mud, a sense of horror suddenly surged in Milani’s heart.
If this was not Askin Proctor, then where was he at this very mont?
Could it be...
...
Following her mory from the last visit, Ivyst quickly navigated through the many obstacles and traps to arrive at the central palace of the underground relics.
It resembled a vast natural cavern, rely refurbished in a hasty fashion, with many stalactites ford by the accumulation of years hanging down.
Ivyst’s attention was drawn to the object on the high platform in the center of the hall.
Looking up, she saw an old ceramic jar, currently placed right in the center of the high platform.
The jar appeared ancient and even crude.
Only a female face, eyes closed with a gentle smile, was vividly sculpted in the center of the jar.
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