"What is this?" Adrian's face twitched as he patted his cheeks, struggling to suppress an odd expression. Mr. Z looked embarrassed yet proud—embarrassed because he'd suggested this "welcome ceremony" to his Backlund comrades, making him the culprit, but proud that he now understood the favored one's thoughts better than his peers, feeling closer to divine intent.
Mr. Z whispered, "Lord Favored One, I'll have them take down the sign…"
"No, don't bother," Adrian said, taking a deep breath. "They're coming over—this is too ostentatious. Sigh, stop doing things like this; it's too exposing."
"Understood," Mr. Z nodded solemnly, striding toward Mr. A, who was approaching to greet them, and barked, "Put that down! Don't… uh, don't disrupt public order!"
As expected, nine out of ten Aurora Order members are mad, and the tenth has some serious issues… Adrian watched Mr. Z silently, sighing inwardly, then stepped forward.
Hearing Mr. Z, Mr. A's eyes flashed with anger. He glared at Mr. Z, a Rose Bishop weaker than him, contemplating whether to "purge" him for the Lord. But, noticing the Lord's favored one behind Mr. Z, Mr. A reconsidered—the boss is here, better make a good impression.
"Lord Favored One," Mr. A said respectfully, head bowed as they left the train station, "we received the Lord's oracle and prepared a plan for your visit to Backlund. Would you prefer to head to our… uh, gathering point first, or shall we arrange a carriage to take you home?"
Mr. A glanced at the passersby, carefully avoiding saying "Aurora Order."
"To your gathering point, Mr. A," Adrian nodded. "Our time is tight. The false gods who betrayed the Lord never rest, always seeking to keep Him in dark shadows. We must hurry to restore His glory."
"You're right," Mr. A said, a smile spreading across his face, which, under the sunlight, looked nothing like an "evil cultist" but rather a slightly delicate, handsome youth. "It's our greatest honor to serve the Lord. Welcome, Lord Favored One, to inspect the Backlund Aurora Order."
...
The High-Dimensional Overseer gazed at the True Creator, inverted on His cross, a smile creeping onto His face. The grin widened, turning perverse. Laughing, He teased the True Creator, "Let me guess where this came from. Did you teach them to say that? It's so formulaic—did you, a scientist, learn this to scam funding back in the day?"
"…I didn't teach them," the True Creator said gravely.
"Right, right, I get it," the High-Dimensional Overseer said, adjusting an eroding rib on His avatar. "You just carved that instinct into your pathway. Tsk, your believers are all master actors. I've been meaning to ask: when oil ran out, how broke were you guys?"
"…Mind your own business."
The True Creator eyed the ostentatiously wealthy Outer God, suddenly feeling the Evernight Goddess's parting words were too kind. Far in the starry sky, the Supernova Dominator cautiously watched the High-Dimensional Overseer laughing behind His curtain, fearing He'd impulsively punch His "potted plants."
"Like Celestial Worthy, these trickster gods are the worst," the Supernova Dominator muttered through gritted teeth.
Adrian followed Mr. A into an unoccupied house, descending to its basement, where he saw numerous Secret Supplicants and Listeners praying silently with bowed heads, shrouded in shadows. Faint candlelight illuminated their faces. Though the True Creator's improved state made these Beyonders seem almost normal during prayer, Adrian squinted, appearing dissatisfied.
"The Lord that Created Everything,
The Lord who Reigns Behind the Curtain of Shadows,
The Degenerate Nature of all Living Things!"
Mr. A prayed, eyes closed. He'd already sent Mr. Z to "rest" nearby upon returning to the Aurora Order. Opening his eyes, he noticed Adrian's disapproval and cautiously asked, "Lord Favored One, are you displeased? Have we done something wrong?"
"I recall the Lord revised the scriptures, Mr. A. The current prayer method is too superficial, easily exposing us and illogical," Adrian said sternly. "I propose changing prayers to silent recitations in the heart, enabling constant prayer 24/7. Replace tracing the inverted cross on the chest with visualizing a radiant upright cross in the mind to anchor the Lord's current scriptures."
"Hmm…" Mr. A pondered, increasingly convinced of Adrian's method. It aligned with the Secret Supplicant's acting principles, speeding up digestion. Testing it mentally, he received the Lord's response—not a splitting headache but a glorious sense of bearing the suffering of others. Overjoyed, Mr. A felt a hidden glow in the shadows. He looked up at Adrian, stunned by the method's efficacy.
"But how will others hear the Lord's glory?" Mr. A asked hesitantly. "Won't this hide our faith? And I worry false believers might infiltrate, defiling the Lord's glory…"
"Of course, you can combine this with the old method. Hold regular gatherings for sermons or collective prayers—many of the Lord's followers are illiterate lower-class people who can't read the scriptures. Without understanding the Lord's glory, they're swayed by His burdens," Adrian said with a smile. "As for preaching, if you 'bishops' conceal yourselves and infiltrate Backlund's various classes, you can naturally grow the Lord's followers."
Mr. A listened intently, thoughtful. Adrian paused briefly, continuing, "Of course, lower-tier Secret Supplicants and Listeners can also recruit. I believe they need unified education and a union to actively spread the Lord's glory. The Lord's favor won't grace lazy prayer-mongers."
"Your wisdom is admirable!" Mr. A praised solemnly.
Watching Mr. A spring into action to prove his devotion to the True Creator, Adrian stood silently at the basement door. He saw Mr. A pull Secret Supplicants to their feet, open windows for light, transforming the atmosphere from grim to solemn. The once crazed, sinister Secret Supplicants now bore a holy glow.
"The Hanged Man pathway's top-down influence is strong…" Adrian muttered. A cold voice suddenly spoke beside him: "Lord Favored One."
Adrian turned, seeing a man cloaked in darkness. Sensing his identity, Adrian smiled and greeted, "Greetings, Your Excellency Saint of Darkness."
"No, no, you're too kind. Your wisdom inspires us; the Lord's glory surely shines through you," Saint of Darkness Leonaster said, waving humbly. "What are your plans next?"
"Ah, I need a place to advance to Listener. By the Lord's grace, I digest potions quickly," Adrian fibbed—his Old One soul was immune to potion pollution, and his Outer God characteristics were digested eons ago. The only issue was the True Creator's mental imprints in the potion, which Adrian sealed with his unique ability for other uses.
"Praise the Lord," Leonaster said, tracing an upright cross on his chest. "Since you've come to Backlund, any further instructions?"
"There are tasks, but you don't need to act," Adrian said with a smile. "My body's original owner was an Abraham descendant with some connections here. Tomorrow night, I plan to attend a banquet as a painter. Please lend me Mr. A—I want him to mingle with high society, which will benefit our overall growth."
"Also, the Aurora Order's current gathering point is too shabby," Adrian added casually. "I plan to donate a small manor in my personal name."
The True Creator looked at the High-Dimensional Overseer, feeling a twinge of jealousy at the Outer God's wealth.
"Aren't evil gods supposed to be poor?" the True Creator murmured.
"Only you and the future Fool are evil gods, dear True Creator. I'm an Outer God," the High-Dimensional Overseer said earnestly. "My pathway ensures I'm never short on money."
(End of Chapter)