The more they oppose, the more it shows that I am doing the right thing

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The last trace of the setting sun was swallowed by the mountainous graveyard, and tonight, there was neither moon nor stars.

The gray twilight sky appeared to be wrapped in a thick layer of lead, heavy clouds so dense they seemed ready to fall from the firmament, occasionally sliced by streaks of silver lightning between the gaps.

On a deserted path.

The lacquer-coated carriage rolled over night frost on the road, making a strange creaking sound.

The carriage had set out from the Queen District of the border city, swiftly passed through the border checkpoint, took a detour on a secondary path, and headed into the wilderness, shrouded in the night, as though entering a land with no human presence.

Maka knew he had struck gold today.

Today, he had hijacked a big catch.

On the surface, he was a carriage driver, but secretly, he was a Second Order believer of the Esoteric Religion, devoted to the Mother Goddess.

Because the border city was far from the national center, situated at the junction between two countries, and operated with little central oversight, it had become a breeding ground for the Esoteric Religion.

The belief in the Mother Goddess was especially prevalent along the border, with Cultist hideouts scattered around the city's periphery.

A Third or Second Order Cultist acting as a Priest, plus a dozen or so First Order common believers—this was the typical setup of a Mother Goddess hideout.

It wasn't that the Church did not wish to eradicate them.

But each hideout of the Mother Goddess's followers operated independently, small and meticulous, with no communication amongst them. Even if one was taken down, new ones would spring up like mushrooms after rain.

Moreover, their movements were extremely secretive, making it hard for the Church to locate their hideouts.

Wrapped in a cloak, Maka wore a mad grin on his face, continuously whipping the horse beneath him, already fantasizing about how the Mother Goddess would reward him.

In the passenger compartment of his carriage, a noble youth was bound.

— It was none other than An Su Moningsta, the lately famous Child of the Curse, Blessed by the Holy Light.

The Mother Goddess had two favorite delicacies.

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One was saints from the Holy Light Church; the other was Children of the Curse, born of darkness.

Aggravatingly, An Su happened to be both.

He was not only a Child of the Curse but had also been accorded a title by the Holy Light, and was an intermediate-stage saint to boot!

To Cultists, he was like a beacon in the night. The continuous coverage in the newspapers made him all the more desirable, with countless pairs of eyes coveting his being.

If they could sacrifice him, the Mother Goddess's blessing would surely be of the High-Rank.

At this thought, Maka could not help but reflect on the ease of this operation.

All thanks to the relentless promotion by that unscrupulous tabloid, he was well informed about An Su's daily routine.

Just a bookworm... Such children are the easiest to abduct.

He got up every day at six in the morning, ran three laps in Queen District as a morning exercise, and after breakfast, headed to the Church's library at seven to read until twelve noon.

After lunch, he went to private tutoring on Peter Avenue, then came back to the Church to study law until eleven at night when the Church closed. He then walked home alone along the night path.

Sometimes he was accompanied by a maid from his household, a young girl who seemed frail as a reed.

The path he took home was so secluded and desolate—it was the perfect place for robbery, kidnapping, and the like.

Maka had been observing An Su for several days and had determined that today was the day to strike—the maid was conveniently absent.

He was a decisive believer; as soon as he decided to make a move, he donned a hood and acted swiftly, knocking An Su unconscious with surprising ease and whisking him out of the city.

Feeling triumphant again, Maka could not contain his glee and whipped the horse vigorously, speeding towards the distance. He had already instructed his subordinates to prepare the altar and ritual utensils in advance; he would sacrifice the boy the moment he dismounted—to avoid complications from delays.

The clouds were getting heavier, and the accumulated reservoir spanning half the sky finally descended, with raindrops drumming on the carriage wheels, hitting the muddy paths of the mountains, and causing murky splashes.

What Maka failed to notice, amidst the mist, was a figure stepping through the shadows, following the carriage like a suppurating wound, with amber-colored pupils.

—

"My head... it really hurts. Couldn't you kidnappers be a bit more gentle..."

When An Su came to, he found himself propped in the center of the altar, the scent of blood filling his nostrils.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, looking around. The area was densely packed with kneeling Cultists, donning shimmering golden masks that symbolized the Mother Goddess.

An Su felt a tinge of disappointment; the quality of Cultists these days seemed to have declined.

```

Looking around, most of the believers were of the First Order, with the Second Order being rare.

It seemed this was just a small den, a notch below the last esoteric religion's hideout.

Sacrificing them all would only yield a low-rank blessing... An Su felt a bit regretful.

However, he could still go to the Goddess of Holy Light and receive a low-rank blessing. Combined, they would be equivalent to an intermediate-stage blessing... Thinking of this, An Su was satisfied again.

No matter, little by little counts.

If this generation of cultists wasn't up to par, there would always be the next one.

Indeed, this was his leveling strategy.

Others fish, he fished for cultists!

He deliberately hired unscrupulous newspapers to leak his own information and advertise wildly, drawing the crazed cultists to take the bait and kidnap him, bringing him back for a sacrifice.

The borderlands were lacking in many things, but cults were not one of them. Miss Enya told him that several ill-intentioned gazes were already on him.

That was simply wonderful.

Of course, An Su had also prepared his safety measures.

It would be terrible if things went too far.

At this moment, in the shadow of the night, those amber pupils watched An Su quietly, awaiting his command.

Enya Moningsta, merely seventeen and already a Fourth Order assassin, was a genuine top-notch talent. It was a pity she died too early in the original work, leaving her background incomplete—a significant foreshadowing.

In the borderland cities, she was considered a top-tier power.

She was also a death soldier trained from childhood, who would execute his orders with utmost loyalty without the slightest hesitation. That's why his father was at ease letting An Su leave home; with Enya present, almost nobody could harm his son.

If real danger did occur, Miss Enya could instantly annihilate a group of cultists.

Of course, that would mean An Su couldn't receive a blessing.

The blessings from the Goddess of Holy Light required the solo elimination of cultists, while the Mother Goddess wanted live sacrifices—She had no taste for dead bodies.

"Child, feel joy and happiness,"

the hoarse and deep voice of the cultist interrupted An Su's thoughts, and the latter frowned unhappily.

Maka's mouth curled into a maniacal smile; he crossed his hands and grabbed his own scalp, the pupils beneath the golden mask shooting out blood vessels. "You are about to return to the embrace of the Mother Goddess."

As he spoke, he smeared crimson blood upon the altar made from human bones, the empty eye sockets casting a dim glow.

The scene before him was horrifying, but An Su hummed lightly, "Using human bones for an altar, not a bad idea."

"You think it's not bad either?" Maka was surprised that An Su wasn't afraid, "I do have taste."

"But your professional quality is too shoddy."

An Su regretfully said,

"These bones are too old. The Mother Goddess prefers the bones of newborn infants. I don't know where you dug up this skull, but it stinks... It's disgusting."

"The Mother Goddess favors fresh life, not rotten death. A person's professionalism can be judged by how their altar is prepared."

Maka prided himself as an artist in the sacrificial industry, and at the moment, he was quite angered by the questioning of his professionalism by a child,

"Of course I know infant skulls are the best, but so what? As long as it works, it's good enough!"

"But that would lower the efficiency of the sacrifice."

An Su calmly said, "Old bones not only fail to please the Mother Goddess, but they can also anger Her. My experiments have found that they will reduce the reward by at least ten percent—this is something I cannot tolerate."

As a speedrunner, inefficiency was something An Su could never stand in his life.

When he said this, his expression was utterly serious, and his eyes conveyed sincere confidence.

Oddly enough, he was very persuasive.

Who the hell's altar is this, anyway!

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Maka asked.