Chapter Seventy-Six: The Person of Light and Shadow

Mulan’s recent dream was identical to Taylor’s—even the perspective seemed almost the same. The moment he awoke, Mulan realized the fifth priest was still alive, though he had no idea of the person’s appearance or name. Yet Mulan had his own ways of discovering the information he needed. For now, it was deep night, and he would have to wait.

Not long after dawn, Mulan arrived at the Grand Cathedral of Digao. Already, the first wave of worshippers had gathered outside, ready to step through the great doors bathed in the morning light—a gesture rich in auspicious meaning, though few nobles chose to do so, at least on ordinary days.

As the doors of the cathedral slowly opened, the two priests on duty immediately noticed Mulan, whose bearing set him apart from the crowd. The impression he had left from that day was unforgettable.

“Lord Jonst!” “Is there something you need at the cathedral?”

Mulan regarded the two priests with calm composure. “As a devout believer, I have come to pray to the Holy Light.”

“You truly are a pious knight!”

Delighted, the two priests fully opened the doors and led Mulan and the other worshippers inside.

The morning prayer was simple, yet everyone in the grand hall was solemn and reverent—including Mulan, seated at the very front. Because of his presence, the priest officiating the prayer that morning had been replaced by a bishop.

Mulan listened quietly as the bishop recited the Gospel of the Holy Light, letting the tranquility sink into his heart. He now understood that the serenity he felt within the cathedral was in fact the influence of an eldritch god suppressing part of his restless mind, blocking out the chaotic sensations from other dark entities, allowing him to gather his thoughts and thus feel at peace.

In essence, it meant the god presiding over the cathedral was, in a way, closer to him than the others.

As the bishop finished the last syllable of the gospel, silence lingered in the vast hall. He looked about, then met Mulan’s gaze and nodded with satisfaction.

“That concludes the morning prayer.”

The congregation rose, offering thanks and saluting the bishop before dispersing in small groups. Some lingered in their seats to pray in quiet contemplation.

Mulan, meanwhile, stood and approached the bishop.

“Lord Jonst, is there something else you need?”

Mulan nodded, casting a glance up at the statue of the Holy Light before looking back at the bishop.

“Your Excellency, you must have heard of the tragedy on the Sacred Mountain.”

The bishop sighed at these words. “I have heard about Irwin as well. My condolences, Lord Jonst. His soul has surely returned to God, becoming an angel who will watch over the world, bathed in holy light.”

“I fear that may not be the case,” Mulan murmured, and then swiftly continued, “Irwin was ambushed by the forces of darkness. Those cultists and depraved servants of evil may not let go of the souls of our priests. I must find them and destroy them! I need to know my enemies. That is why I have come to seek the cathedral’s aid.”

The bishop frowned. “But as of now, there is no definite news from the Sacred Mountain. I cannot point to Irwin’s killer with certainty.”

“No, Your Excellency,” Mulan said, his gaze unwavering, fixed on the bishop and, perhaps, also on the statue behind him. “I mean—all the dark entities known to the cathedral. All of them! I trust that the cathedral keeps a record of such threats. I want to see those lists.”

The cathedral indeed had its old adversaries, though it had not always kept formal lists. Yet as the world changed and mysterious powers slowly rose, it had become a consensus to do so. The cathedral had only recently begun to catalogue those people and factions posing the greatest threat—starting after the war ended last year. Since Mulan had asked, the bishop considered it reasonable to share such knowledge with a devout knight.

“Lord Jonst, please wait here. I’ll return shortly.”

With that, the bishop hurried through a side door. In less than five minutes, he returned to the hall and handed Mulan a list.

“Lord Jonst, this is a blacklist—a register of wanted dark entities. You may look through it. Consider it also a warning: with your current strength, you should avoid some of the beings on the blacklist. As for the latter half of the register, the targets are less formidable.”

These details were not communicated by letter or messenger, but rather through an ancient alchemical creation called the Stone of Revelation. These tablets possessed a limited spatial resonance, allowing for the sharing of information. Due to the complexities and uncertainties of alchemy, the Stone of Revelation was a rare, living artifact—each use consumed energy, making it a precious form of telegraphy. Although some regions of the world were already researching electricity, even if the telegraph were one day invented, the Stone of Revelation would remain the safest, fastest, and most convenient means.

“Thank you, Your Excellency. Please give my regards to the other priests. I shall take my leave!”

Mulan gave the lists a cursory glance, bowed with solemnity, and strode away.

Not far from the cathedral, a carriage was waiting—Mulan had arranged for it before his prayers, instructing the coachman to stand by. Once aboard and on the road, Mulan unrolled the two lists.

The first was on black paper, tough and resilient, with the top entry being the Temple of Dusk. From what Mulan knew, this was not an utterly evil group in the strictest sense—it was a religion, with many followers on the eastern continent across the sea and some influence in certain countries on Mulan’s own continent. Compared to the cathedral, the Temple of Dusk’s theocracy was harsher, its Inquisition often reaching far. The cathedral, by contrast, was brighter. Incidentally, both sides regarded each other as worshippers of false gods.

The remainder of the list featured other dark forces, including the Pope and certain archbishops of the Temple of Dusk, powerful vampires, and more—over sixty entries in total. Even the Storm Lord, King of Pirates, appeared at nineteenth, a respectable rank given the formidable individuals and factions ahead of him.

The second list, on gray paper, was nearly all names—hundreds, densely packed. Mulan skipped the earlier sections and began reading from the second half, all the while attempting to activate his peculiar resonance ability, blending it with his prophetic gifts. Left hand holding the paper, right hand tracing each name, he paused at the third from the end.

A sudden chaos flashed through his mind—a swirl of confusion and anger. Mulan lifted his finger and read the name. It was clearly that of a cathedral priest, for only those who had entirely dedicated themselves to God bore only a first name, no surname.

“Taylor…”

Beside the name was a brief note: “Blasphemous Heretic.” This was a grave accusation, denoting someone who, if encountered, should be eliminated immediately—a person guilty of heinous crimes against the cathedral and of profaning the divine.

“Where are you, Mr. Taylor?”

Mulan narrowed his eyes, recalling his earlier dream and the sensation he had just experienced, as well as certain similar knowledge from his prophetic and alchemical tomes.

All along, Mulan had been passive in his nightmares. Now, he realized that nightmares might be one of his most crucial abilities.

The carriage took Mulan back to the Black Castle. This day, he neither taught nor prepared lessons, nor did he visit the York District Police Station. Instead, he went straight to bed upon arriving home.

Mulan did not know when Taylor might sleep, but he was willing to wait as long as it took.

...

The mountaineers’ caravan reached a flat, relatively dry area—a rare find after days of rain. They were setting up camp, intending to spend the night there.

Taylor, still unable to move freely, remained seated in a wagon, utterly exhausted. Though he had slept before, nightmares had robbed him of rest. Now, with the jostling stopped, weariness pressed down on his eyelids.

At last, Taylor could no longer resist. He lay back, praying for a sound sleep.

In the haze of half-sleep, everything seemed shrouded in mist. In the distance, a murky light began to glow. A colossal figure slowly emerged from the fog, radiating both darkness and brilliance—a paradox of light and shadow, black and white. A resonant voice thundered through Taylor’s soul:

“I have been waiting for you a long time… Mr. Taylor…”