From Secret Clan to the Divine Dynasty

The East Coast Province was surrounded by lush oak forests, with the occasional squirrel leaping between the tree tops.

At the center of the village stood an ancient Tempest Church, its spire reaching towards the sky, its windows inlaid with colored glass through which sunlight formed a multicolored pattern on the ground.

The church bells rang out promptly in the early morning and evening, melodious and solemn, echoing in every corner of the village.

On the edge of the village lay a wide field of golden wheat swaying in the breeze, the scent of wheat wafting through the air, and at the end of the field, a winding clear stream teeming with visible fish.

This afternoon should have been just like any other, a very peaceful one, yet the village's harmony was shattered by a sudden military attack!

"Help!"

"It's the Royal Army! The Adley Royal Family!"

"Why? Why would Prince Noah attack his own people!"

The once peaceful sky was enveloped in smoke and flames, the sound of horse hooves and war drums intertwining, the army flooding out from behind the distant hills like a tide.

They were clad in uniform armor, holding sharp weapons, their eyes gleaming with coldness and resolve, like a steel-cast nightmare that swept across the entire village in an instant.

"Ah!"

"Save me!"

"Don't kill me!"

The villagers were panicked, running everywhere, their faces filled with fear and helplessness.

"I'll fight you!"

Some of the young people bravely stood up, taking up arms in an attempt to resist the soldiers' onslaught, to protect their homeland.

But the assault of the army was fierce and swift, sweeping through the villagers as easily as autumn winds blowing away fallen leaves, houses burning in flames, the air filled with the choking smell of gunpowder and scorched earth.

In the chaos, the Tempest Church became the last line of defense.

The villagers rushed into the church, praying for the protection of the vast Tempest Overlord, the church bells sounding even more solemn and heavy amidst the war.

However, the soldiers' assault did not cease; they surrounded the church, trying to force the villagers to surrender.

"Come out, and you will not die!"

"Come out!"

"Keep hiding and we'll burn you alive!"

Although the soldiers threatened continuously, they never dared to lay a hand on the Tempest Church, even though its priest was only a high-level Beginning Extraordinary Exponent.

But clearer than anything was the fact that openly assaulting a church meant provoking the powerful church!

Compared to the ancient and colossal True Gods Church, the entire Cyart Kingdom was nothing.

When the fires of conflict were finally dying down, the village was beyond recognition, the once beautiful fields turned to ruins, the sudden army attack bringing endless suffering to the village.

After failing to make much headway attacking major cities, the armies of both sides began to disperse across the land, continuously attacking each other's villages and towns.

The strategy of slow but steady progress was undoubtedly correct; as long as villages and towns were significantly occupied and destroyed, city production and the supplies needed for the army would soon become unsustainable, and even the extraordinary materials required for city-level barriers would run out.

The war had entered a complete stalemate, both sides locked in attrition, and the ordinary Cyart people entered the most painful period, their plight even worse than during the war with Rhea.

Above the ruins of the village, the afterglow of the setting sun cast a golden glow on the broken walls and remnants.

On the land ravaged by war, a devout follower of the Tempest Church knelt among the shattered stones, his eyes full of endless sorrow and longing.

His hands clasped tightly together, palms facing up as if he was lifting a heavy prayer, his lips trembling slightly, his voice low and firm.

"Great deities, vast Tempest Overlord, please hear my call," echoed the follower's voice in the empty ruins, with a subtle quiver barely perceptible.

His eyes were tightly shut, tears swirling in his eyes but never falling.

"Look upon this land ravaged by war, look upon these innocent lives taken, they are Your people, they once prayed devoutly on this land, asking for Your protection and blessing."

The follower's voice rose gradually, filled with grief and unwillingness.

"Now they need Your help, Your miracles to save them, please grant us strength to rebuild our homes, to make this land thrive again!"

The follower's hands gripped even tighter as if trying to grasp the elusive and sacred power.

The air around seemed to solidify, only the call of the devout echoing in the empty ruins, and nothing happened.

He pleaded like this for three days and three nights without any response.

Suddenly, deep in his heart, he couldn't help recalling a vile rumor.

The gods had completely departed!

No, he could not think this way!

He let out a yell, picked up a stone from the ground, and struck his own head with it, blood flowing down.

Tears streamed from the follower's eyes, and just then, a voice came from not far away.

"Only He can help you."

He sharply raised his head, seeing a young man with wolf ears, crying out loud:

"Who are you?"

The young half-orc's face was resolute and handsome, with a wild unrestraint in his brows, and his eyes were deep and bright, as if they could peer into one's soul.

"I am Alger, a faithful follower of the great Lord of the Lost."

He was the youth Lilian had saved all those years ago.

The believer was stunned for a moment before tremblingly saying, "Evil cultist! You are an evil cultist!"

"Evil cultist?"

Alger shook his head calmly and continued, "My village was also destroyed by the distortions and absurdities of this world. He bestowed a miracle then, allowing His messenger to save me."

"He saves the people, so how could He possibly be an Evil God, and naturally, I am not an evil cultist either."

"Now, I can also offer you a chance to be saved by Him."

He looked into the other's eyes and said coldly,

"Or you can stay here, continuing to plead with your storm until it's all too late."

After speaking, Alger turned and left.

Gritting his teeth, the believer hesitated for a long time before standing up and following him.

He needed a god who could save all beings!

Alger was aware of this scene but did not look back; instead, he headed straight for Nasir City.

He was searching for the person who had saved him back then, the messenger of the Lord of the Lost.

——

Nasir City.

Beneath the night sky, the splendid Fischer Manor was brightly lit, illuminating every anxious corner awaiting the event, as Christine, who was about to go into labor, lay quietly in her ornately decorated bedroom, her face slightly pale, yet her eyes shimmered with the radiance of motherly love.

Andre, Lilian, the present Madam Vanessa, and her often-absent father, Chris, were all gathered around her now.

Even the usually impassive Chris had in his eyes a barely concealed concern as he gazed at his daughter.

Lilian smiled and said, "Don't worry, nothing will go wrong with me here, my Lord will bless Christine."

Andre nodded gently, taking a deep breath.

He felt that tonight was more nerve-wracking than countless life-and-death battles.

Byrne and others had not come because there were more urgent matters on the battlefield, one after another, and even the assassination Chris had planned for tonight was put on hold due to his daughter's childbirth.

Outside the bedroom, numerous servants bustled about in an orderly manner, each with an expression of tension and anticipation.

"Hurry, hurry! Move faster!"

"Don't block the way!"

The female servants whispered amongst themselves, their hands carrying clean towels, hot water, and carefully prepared medicines, ready to assist with the impending birth.

The old butler of Fischer Manor, Theo, patrolled the corridors, his face etched with sternness and focus.

"We can't afford a single mistake, remember that!"

He constantly checked whether everything was ready, ensuring that Christine's labor would proceed smoothly.

A determined light flickered in the old man's eyes; he would protect this family and welcome the new life.

But deep down, there was always a troubling thought.

"Will the new miss be like Christine, Karno, and Madam Vanessa, born cursed and disabled?"

The male servants of the manor were also busy, some preparing food and drinks, others cleaning the rooms, and some guarding the entrance of the manor to ensure there were no outside disturbances.

The whole manor was pervaded by a tense and sacred atmosphere, as if the universe was praying for the nascent life about to arrive.

As time passed, Christine's breathing suddenly became rapid, she clutched Lilian's and Andre's hands tightly, her face etched with determination and bravery.

"Hold on!" Andre said anxiously but firmly.

"You won't have any trouble, trust me," Lilian also nodded and smiled.

Finally, with a loud cry, a new life arrived in this world, the entire manor erupted, cheers and blessings resounded!

Christine, having just gone through childbirth, relaxed, a tired but content smile on her face.

"Thank God..."

Her injuries were quickly healed by Lilian.

In that moment, however, Chris fixed his gaze on the newborn baby, frowning as if he had discovered something very troubling.

"What's going on..."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Suddenly, the night sky flared with strange colors, meteors streaked through the sky like rain, eventually converging into a dazzling beam of light that shone directly above Fischer Manor.

The entire Fischer Manor seemed to be imbued with a mysterious force, guiding this beam of light toward the cradle of the newborn.

When she opened her eyes for the first time, her pure white irises sparkled with profound white light seemed to penetrate everything in the world, as if they could lead all things to destruction!

A catastrophic, overwhelming energy was about to burst forth!

Chris suddenly reached out, quickly covering the baby's eyes, his face showing a trace of astonishment.

Meanwhile, Karl, who had been silently observing everything, looked on as if things were unfolding as he had expected and felt like smiling.

"Just as I had suspected, Vanessa's ancestors were merged with and cursed by a soul shard of the Witch of Demise..."