Chapter 1: The Celestial Temple

“Awaken, Celestial Words!”
The obsidian monument, 10 meters tall and 7 meters wide, was covered in elegant, sharp characters that glowed with magical light!
“The Chaos Holy Stone, formed from condensed Force, holds the laws governing the entire world.”
“Hmm, this is understandable. Nancy said the essence of the Chaos Holy Stone is likely a Chaos Stone created by combining the six highest-grade elemental holy crystals—a sacred crystal that serves as a backup of the world’s laws created by the Divine Lord during his second creation. I became the master of this sacred artifact because I have a fragment of the Chaos Holy Stone in my head. Though it was smaller than a mung bean back then, it has caused me headaches for years and is also the reason I possess mental power. My parents’ deaths are probably closely related to the struggle for this Chaos Holy Stone.”
“We, the great Freyians, have achieved our current prosperity because we have mastered some of the power of the Chaos Holy Stone.”
“Hmm, this sentence clearly seems like a deception. Having a divine label makes things sound more impressive, but in reality, a backup of world laws is just an extremely advanced encrypted knowledge archive. If it were cracked, the world would be in chaos. From another perspective, much of the knowledge possessed by intelligent beings today is indeed closely linked to the Divine Lord—expanded and refined from the skills he taught, though some of it has lost its original essence.”
“Yet arrogance and envy followed, leading to conflict and betrayal. Once glorious and outstanding, they sank into a swamp of indulgence and decay.”
“Undoubtedly, this describes the major division caused by the tripartite conflict and its underlying reasons. But combined with the previous text, it seems to shift blame, as if desires, ambitions, greed, jealousy, and so on all arise from the power of knowledge. It’s a joke! I’ll skip this sentence—such issues should be left for the wise who think for their entire race.”
“Amidst the ravages of arrogance, envy, anger, laziness, greed, gluttony, and lust, darkness has risen, while light remains asleep.”
“This is a straightforward statement, and it’s fairly accurate. A great tree falls first due to internal decay before being knocked down by wind. The Seven Deadly Sins do indeed summarize the main vices, and darkness representing demons makes sense. The last half of the sentence is interesting. The Kaelians say this because they despise light in their hearts; the Freyians promote it… as if they’re making excuses out of fear. It seems the Divine Lord has long avoided addressing the core issues—it’s a well-known secret that he probably only oversees some basic mechanisms. But by mentioning this, the Freyians seem to say: It’s not that we don’t believe, it’s just that the one we’re supposed to believe in isn’t here… Typical Freyian merchant style!”
“In these chaotic times as darkness approaches, the chosen ones who awaken their powers are our last hope!”
“The focus of the whole text, and the most deceptive part. It should be changed to: Come forth quickly! Those connected to the celestial veins! Fight for the justice of the rulers! You mere pawns.”

On March 31st of the Year of Demon Tint, Neo stood on Grindstone Street in Refuge Valley Town. About 30 meters ahead of him lay the Sky Temple—a structure even more magnificent than the main hall of the local Glory Church and more lavishly decorated than the lord’s mansion. It seemed to be shouting, “Come! Come! Symbols of status, representatives of glory—those with the Heavenly Veins, you belong here!”

Fourteen days had passed since the Night of the Continental Road’s Blood Battle. Though there had been many events during those days, few were noteworthy. More than half of that time was spent in Asia’s Tower Library. Riding along with Saint Stephanie had saved a lot of time. The rest of the time was used to handle various matters under the guise of being Gusby.

Originally, Neo planned to shut down Gusby’s mining operations under the pretext that “demons were rising again, the world was unstable, and mining had become highly risky.” Those who needed to be suppressed would be suppressed, and those who needed to be dismissed would be dismissed. But the separate summons and conversation from the Holy Sanctuary made things seem much more logical. See? Favored by the Holy Sanctuary, summoned personally. I’m on the rise! What’s this? A VIP card from the Element Tower! You know the Element Tower, right? It’s the most authoritative sorcerer guild in the Frey Alliance. With that VIP card, am I just an ordinary person? Why mine rocks anymore? After working hard for three or five years, the profit wouldn’t even reach half of what I can get from my current credit limit. From now on, I’ll be a legendary figure on the path of sorcery…

But… some people deserve to die! Bels—that bastard is too arrogant. I can’t find him for now. Once I master my divine skills, I’ll kill him! Gerna—he caused me to lose my top expert and got me involved in such a disaster as the Night of the Continental Road’s Blood Battle. Just for the mental distress alone, that bastard must pay with his life!

So, Gerna was brought in. With the help of level 7 sorcerer Grot and fierce subordinates like Gris who wanted to curry favor with Neo, it wasn’t difficult to capture someone who was completely in the dark. Then, Gerna vanished. Gris and the others thought he was dead. In fact, he really died, but if needed someday, he could be revived under a fake identity.

Now, Neo’s name was Simon Windwalker, a chosen one who had come to the Refuge Valley branch of the Sky Temple to take on a mission. Today was the last day; otherwise, he would be sent back to the eighth batch of trainee officers.

Reviewing once again his past interactions with the Sky Temple, Neo took a deep breath and strode toward the magnificent building.

The Sky Temple didn’t need guards, thanks to Wisewater, the Sigh of the Abyss, and Brex, the Axe of Doom. The former was the sacred sword, and the latter was the axe of punishment—both epic-level weapons. Of course, the real ones couldn’t be displayed in a small place like Refuge Valley Town. What guarded here were projections of these sacred artifacts. The silver-colored light mass represented the sacred sword, while the bright red light mass represented the sacred axe. They could not only identify those with the Heavenly Veins through resonance with the sacred artifacts but also served as ritual tools for taking office as a bearer of the Heavenly Veins. Protection and fury—those were the two options available for those in Frey’s ranks.

The Celestial Temple of Aod possesses Iscahn, the Soul Annihilator, and Samorain, the Purifying Heavenly Punisher, while Kales has Iblis, the Void Shatterer, and Belzebub, the Dark Bible. The corresponding classes are Archer, Support Mage, Shadow Assassin, and Sorcerer.
This system is different from Emira’s mainstream combat class system. It is said to originate from the homeland of the Divine Lords, where elite special forces are often tactical teams composed of these six classes—names like Fire User, Assault User, Sniper… it sounds rather odd. Neo believes this rumor is mostly true; after all, the Celestial Bloodline are descendants of those extraterrestrial beings, and it makes sense that they are blessed by their powers.
The Celestial Temple is an independent organization centered around those with the Celestial Bloodline, but it is deeply intertwined with the three major factions. Being officially supported, it can expand widely and recruit talents. It is one of the few cross-faction organizations. Although not as powerful as the Titan Alliance or as mysterious as the Angelic Stars, it is more approachable, closer to everyday life, and highly respected among the people.
Ding ding dong dong… The resonance of the sacred artifacts sounded very pleasant, but Neo felt sweat pouring down his back. “Damn it, there’s already a problem with the first level!” It turned out that Simon, the Wind Walker, had originally chosen the class of Fury, with his team’s role being close-range main damage dealer. In that case, the resonance upon entering should have come from the projection of the Axe of Doomsday Destruction. But now, two weapons were resonating at the same time—this was the issue.
As Neo pondered how to cover up this mess, someone suddenly appeared from a dark corner in the temple—a man in his 40s, with a scruffy beard, yellow eyes, high cheekbones, and white hair, looking like a Frosthill Werewolf.
The werewolf stared at Neo as if a thirsty traveler had found a spring of delicious food. He said excitedly, “Ha! Finally caught you!” Then he reached out to grab Neo’s wrist.
At that moment, Neo, feeling suspicious, almost couldn’t help but draw his sword. He held back mainly because he had confidence in his own strength. Neo stayed calm, letting the werewolf grab his wrist and pull him along, while exclaiming in surprise, “What’s going on? What happened? I’m here to complete a mission. Today is the last day; if I’m late, I’ll be in trouble.”
“I know, I know! No need to talk. You’ve already passed!” The werewolf said impatiently, pulling Neo away through a side door on the left side of the temple, passing through corridors and rooms, with no clear destination in sight.
“Passed? What did I pass?” Neo continued to act foolish.
The werewolf glared at him. “You’re really stupid! You’re here to complete the trials of the Chosen, right?”
“Yes.”
“What stage have you reached?”
“I’m not quite sure!” Neo said, scratching his head.
“…Describe the mission. Who assigned it to you? What are the specific details?”
“Russell! He said, ‘Let me think… You’re the sixth ‘Chosen’ I’ve met today. When did saviors become so common! Young people, I know you’re always full of energy…’”

“Alright! Alright!” The werewolf looked at Neo as if he were an idiot. “I really don’t know if you’re stupid or smart. You didn’t memorize Russell’s entire speech, did you? That’s not even a brief of the mission! It’s just the leg meat from three Thornback Boars! Which batch are you from? You said just now it’s the last day to submit tasks—could it be Batch 7?”
“It is indeed Batch 7.”
The werewolf stopped in his tracks and stared at Neo from head to toe. “Hey! Are you a pig? Took you two months to take down three boars?”
Neo replied shyly, “Actually, I was injured and lay in bed for over a month. I’ve only just recovered.”
Suddenly, the werewolf’s head drooped. “A talent! After the power of the Chosen One awakens, one becomes almost at Level 5. How were you injured? Did you face off against three boars at once?”
“No, my opponent was a Man-eating Badger. That was part of the mission requirements.”
The werewolf’s expression shifted from one extreme to another, filled with shock. “Man-eating Badgers always act in groups.”
Neo took out the badger’s fangs from his bag. “That’s right. I took down two of them at once. That was also part of the mission requirements.”
The werewolf picked up the badger’s fangs from Neo’s hand, examined them for a long time, then grew serious. “Describe Russell’s appearance.”
Neo began to describe him.
After listening carefully, the werewolf asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“So you can easily recognize him?”
“Yes.”
“Alright.” The werewolf wasn’t in a hurry anymore. Instead, he led Neo back. Along the way, he casually asked, “What’s your name?”
“Simon Windwalker.”
The werewolf paused and turned back. “Who’s your father?”
“Matthia Windwalker.”
The werewolf fell silent. Matthia and Simon were both saintly names, but not from the Glorious Church—rather, they belonged to the Celestial Saints. They were all second- or third-generation descendants of the Heavenly Lineage, and they had made great contributions to the establishment of the Celestial Temple. Those who bore saintly names had to meet specific conditions. Matthia was a meritorious figure of the Celestial Temple, so his son was eligible to bear a saintly name. Since Matthia’s father was also a meritorious figure, Matthia’s name was recognized by the Celestial Temple. Just from these names, it was clear that Simon’s lineage belonged to the Celestial Heritage—meaning three or more generations had served under the temple, rather than being new members of the Wild Lineage.
In a stone house, Neo stood behind a light screen and was asked to identify someone. He had never met Russell, the one who assigned tasks to the deceased Simon. The selection process was entirely guided by Nancy’s advice.
“It’s him!” Neo was very confident. This confidence came purely from his trust in Nancy’s logical judgment.
And Neo won the bet.

Things quickly became clear—the man was not Russell but a clerk. As the saying goes, those who commit many injustices will eventually bring ruin upon themselves. This clerk was already under investigation by the Temple due to financial issues, and Neo’s accusations only added fuel to the fire. The Temple immediately deepened its investigation and placed him in custody for interrogation. Any organization with a long history tends to excel in both survival and dealing with internal issues, and the Sky Temple is no exception. Thanks to the efforts of the Temple’s interrogation team, within just a few hours, the clerk confessed—he had indeed taken money to assign Simon a suicidal mission.

As for the briber, he was very cautious. The clerk only handled the money-related tasks and was unaware of the real mastermind behind it. Naturally, the Temple decided to pursue further investigation to maintain its system and authority. If even someone like Simon, who was part of the system, could be killed without any explanation, then the stability of the Sky Temple’s foundation would be in doubt.

However, the werewolf Urian the Fierce, also known as the Frosthill Werewolf, privately told Neo, “To be honest, your father and I don’t have a close relationship. In fact, he once embarrassed me in public, leaving me in a very awkward situation. But compared to those cunning scoundrels, I still admire your father’s character—he truly embodies our werewolves’ straightforward and honest traditions. So, I’ll tell you the truth: your matter is basically over.”

“Two reasons: First, your father didn’t lay a good foundation for you. Yes, he had many military achievements and died fighting for the Temple, but he was a failure at handling interpersonal relationships. His honesty is one thing, but his tendency to point out problems directly, regardless of the situation, has offended many people over the years.”

“Second, this is a critical time, and we are severely short of manpower. Our focus is on external threats, so internal purges will be relatively lenient. Even that clerk was just sent to the front lines—I think you understand what that means.”

“To die as a mere pawn,” said Neo.

“Hmm, not entirely. If you only see it that way, your future likely won’t be bright either. With the resurrection of demons and the rise of dark forces, the front lines are extremely dangerous, but they also offer opportunities to earn recognition and wealth. The Temple doesn’t have enough resources to deliberately send someone to die. Especially someone like you, a descendant with military achievements, who is meant to become an elite pillar of our Temple. Of course, you need to go through trials—wasterels won’t get any special treatment anywhere.”

“Yes, I understand now. Thank you very much for everything you’ve done. This isn’t even your duty.”

Urian patted Neo on the shoulder. “You’re strong, and you’re not bad at dealing with people. I have high hopes for you!”

“Thank you.”

Put politely, but when it came to action, Urian was far from hesitant. Although Neo hadn’t completed the trials, based on his performance in single-handedly killing two man-eating badgers (for now believed), Urian let him graduate early, just as he had done with conscripts before, and assigned him a task. In Urian’s words, “Combine trials with actual combat. If you succeed, you’ll make up for all the time you lost.” What would happen if he failed? Urian didn’t say, but Neo knew well that Urian had already given an answer to failure: a good deal wasn’t to be expected from a good-for-nothing anywhere. Urian had gone to such lengths to help him and even shown some favor—this was already the utmost kindness.

“Report!”

“Come in.” The officer in charge of the supply depot was busy copying grades when a figure blocked the light from his desk, forcing him to look up. It was a distinctly marked Sandwolf Werewolf—werewolves of this race were known as Desert Camel Wolves, possessing extreme endurance, natural abilities to endure hunger and thirst, and being particularly hard to kill. “Guard?” the officer asked.

Taking advantage of the fake Russell murder case, Neo claimed he hadn’t yet taken up his post, so Urian assigned him to be a guard: “It would be a waste for a Sandwolf Werewolf not to be a guard. Besides, the Temple urgently needs a guard.”

Neo had no real choice. He had originally planned to pretend to be a Berserker using blood energy. Although being a guard limited his skills as a dual-skilled swordsman, since he was pretending to be Simon, he was aiming for the ‘Boarman’ path—someone whose combat abilities never fully developed, relying solely on brute strength. He could easily handle being a guard as well.

“Yes, a guard!” Neo replied loudly, holding up a document to the officer.

As a professional whose family had instilled strict discipline since childhood, Simon had some military training, which was why the Temple favored ‘born professionals.’ Loyalty was assured, competence was reliable, and in terms of strength, once a Chosen One activated their divine veins, they would instantly reach near-Level 5—having grasped combat energy and possessing basic skills but not yet breaking through to Level 4’s peak. Moreover, their parents would pass on some life-saving insights, and with constant training from a young age, such people were guaranteed to grow well, saving the Temple countless expenses. Why be dissatisfied?

The officer’s lips curled slightly as he took the document, glanced at it a few times, then glanced again. “Are you Matia’s son?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your father was great on the battlefield. Don’t disgrace him.”

“Understood, sir.” Neo replied loudly again, but then added more gently, “Thank you for your advice.”

“Hmm…” The officer, whose temples were already graying, nodded. Though he said nothing more, his expression implied: You’re better than your father.

But in reality? Simon was even more stubborn than his father—recklessly heading straight into danger despite knowing the risks, and somewhat withdrawn. His father’s unpleasant relationships with colleagues meant he often drank a bit when he returned, complaining and blaming others, which made Simon hold little affection for the Temple’s people. Otherwise, with so many relatives around, they could have helped out. Why would he end up in such a ridiculous situation, fighting off two man-eating badgers?

It’s good this way too. It’s precisely because people don’t know much about Simon and his remaining distant relatives aren’t nearby that he has such high malleability. Otherwise, having Neo act as a stubborn character would be quite uncomfortable—after all, having lived in human society for so many years, he has nothing to do with the “traditional styles” of werewolves. Now he can fully act in his true self, which is perfect.

In Frey, there’s magic when needed and technology when required; its productivity is extremely high, and its population is large. Otherwise, a grand duke of a principality wouldn’t have the means to settle transactions in hundreds of millions of gold coins so easily. As a result, there’s not much shortage of supplies— the main problem lies in transportation. But if one is willing to pay the cost, such as through air transport or beast caravans, even in this chaotic situation, it’s entirely possible to ensure supply lines. It’s just that the profits are too slim, which doesn’t align with Frey’s business spirit.

The supply depot of the Branch Temple in the Sanctuary Valley is also extremely rich, containing everything from a copper button to war chariots and flying vehicles. Neo came this time to collect equipment—he is now considered a lieutenant officer, a rank recognized throughout the alliance. He is also a junior guardian of the Sky Temple, a title recognized by all three major factions. When fighting across factions, one only needs to report to the local Sky Temple, and immediate assistance will be provided.

“Two sets of spring/autumn casual clothes, two sets of summer casual clothes, two sets of training clothes, one set of inner armor, one set of precision steel heavy armor…” Interestingly, due to the heavy armor, Neo needed to find a cart to carry all of it when it was delivered to him. Simon has a standard tall frame, so his clothes, boots, shirts, and underwear could all be obtained ready-made without special customization. However, weapons are an exception.

As the closest companion and lifeline of professionals, even so-called military-standard weapons vary in specifications and have many subtle differences when in an individual’s hands—such as the length of the sword hilt and the wrapping material, the sword’s center of gravity, the hilt design, and so on. Organizations like the Temple go even further in treating the chosen ones, with weapons being crafted on the spot according to what’s needed. This is the treatment reserved for officers; ordinary combatants don’t get such perks—having complete armor and fitting clothes is already quite good.

There were dwarves again, not just one but a group. Judging from their red faces and braided beards, they clearly spent their days around furnaces and forges. Still, the Temple is quite humane—instead of letting these hot-tempered, arrogantly proud dwarves deal directly with clients, there are professional receptionists. Everything from door panels, axes, and sickles for humans to sleeve arrows for dwarves has been designed, so if you have an idea for a weapon, you can basically get it made. But as professionals, they will also give advice—some bizarre designs may look impressive but fail in practice. What’s offered here are weapons for actual combat, not for show, so just because you have an idea doesn’t mean they’ll necessarily make it for you.

The weapons Neo wanted weren’t overly extravagant. In actual combat, knives were more practical than swords, as they served defensive purposes and needed to be used in conjunction with shields. Thus, the one-handed weapon Neo wanted was a back knife with a very small blade—just a ring of iron. Those who tried to push forward recklessly found that the protective armor was as thick as an ordinary warrior’s shield; such pushes couldn’t cut off their hands and instead carried great risk. The back of the knife was thicker, bearing most of the weight. As the saying goes, “Heavier objects sink.” In fact, a skilled defender didn’t rely on brute force but made rational use of the weight of weapons, armor, and shields—momentum was key.

There were two distinctive features of this weapon. First, it had serrated, wave-like edges that resembled enlarged teeth from a saw, combined with relatively gentle curves between the teeth. The design focused not on sharpness but on dragging force. Even with average armor, a single swipe from this weapon would surely create a large cut. If combined with slashing and dragging… well, one would better pray not to be hit.

Another notable feature was the blade tip—a large, curled nose-shaped tip that could even be used as a shovel when held horizontally. That thick, curved shape was truly awe-inspiring. Just by looking at the weapon, one could tell its user completely abandoned stabbing attacks; it was a specialized killing tool designed for slashing and dragging.

As for the shield, it was simple yet exuded a sense of weight—a rectangular tower shield with a pronounced curve on both sides. The top was covered in short, thick pyramids about thumb-length high. A single strike from the front of this shield could tear deep gashes into thinner armor. The shield alone weighed 150 pounds. If not for the concave observation slit on the side, allowing those behind it to remain invisible to those on either side, its size would be comparable to the door panels of a cellar or coal stove.

When this knife and shield were combined, even the dwarfs praised them, saying that only those wielding such weapons could be considered true wolf guardian defenders in their eyes. However, they doubted that Neo’s build could handle such weapons effectively.

Neo simply smiled at this. His strength wasn’t meant to impress these people—he wasn’t in an arena and didn’t need to please the audience.

Still, Neo had no intention of staying low-key. He was here to gain experience and earn reputation and glory. What he wanted was leadership over his group, team, or even faction—not to just criticize others while fighting under someone else’s command.

So on April 1st, when it was time to meet his tactical team members, Neo gathered his strength, fully armed, and entered the small training ground behind the temple to meet his colleagues.

From afar, he saw five people, and his heart tightened. “They all arrived earlier than me. It seems they’re all ambitious—competition is going to be fierce!”

As he got closer, the pressure grew even more. “Centaurs, minotaurs, rhinoceros men—each one is incredibly heavy. Any one of these three, fully armored, would weigh more than him in his transformed state. Once they start moving, they’d be like armored beasts of destruction! My defensive abilities don’t seem to have any clear advantage at all!”

Getting any closer, Neo frowned. These people were dressed casually and clearly not in top form, looking sloppy. It was supposed to be a solemn and formal event for forming a team, but now it seemed he was being too serious.
“Lieutenant Simon Windrunner, reporting to my superior as ordered!” Neo saluted the officer who had arrived earlier as well.
The officer checked his watch—it was 8 o’clock minus 2 minutes. He nodded at Neo. “Alright, return to the team.”
“Yes!” Neo stood right at the far right of the line, a clear indication that he was interested in the leader’s position.
The officer gave Neo a smirkful, meaningful look before clearing his throat and starting his speech: “I’mReeno. You’ll be reporting directly to me from now on…”
This kind of speech was quite routine. Neo had heard it many times during militia training. The difference lay in how the speaker’s personal style influenced the content, but the core ideas remained the same: obey orders, value honor, fight bravely, protect the people, and so on. What annoyed Neo was the subsequent introductions of the team members.
“What? A horseman sorcerer? That doesn’t make sense—with a donkey’s head, can you even pronounce spells clearly? With such a good physique, why not choose Frenzy or Protection?”
“Huh? A minotaur as a support mage? Did I hear that right? I believe you have great strength, but I don’t think you have much mental power. What will you do after using two spells? Cheer them on?”
“Ha? A dwarf warrior? Still choosing Protection? That’s obvious! Protection where? Below the calves? Already fully armored? What’s that in your hand? Don’t tell me it’s a shield—it’s clearly a giant gear!”
“Yeah? A rhinoceros man as an assassin? It’s hard to imagine you sneaking around and spying. Also, can you get rid of that awful smell of oxen that follows you everywhere? And that constant grunting—is that the habit of half-idiotic giants when they sleep? You need to change that!”
“The most logical choice would be Frenzy, but you’re not only a woman but also a 16-year-old girl. Where are your parents? Is such a delicate girl supposed to be the team’s main damage dealer? Especially since we’re short of a shooter—no long-range control, support, or physical attacks. Damn, could this be a trap set by the ‘Death Squad’?”