Chapter 422: The Symbol of Harvest
Yuan Kongye knelt before the cross, her posture radiating devout reverence.
As the Leader of Bai Xue Jiao, her faith in the existence of a divine being was unshakable.
To her, figures like Jesus Christ, Shakyamuni, Zeus, Yuanshi Tianzun, and Odin were merely humanity’s attempts to comprehend the Creator.
How else could she explain the miracles that had unfolded in her life?
She prayed fervently, a dedicated apostle of the divine:
“Snow above and earth below,
Our bodies born from the earth,
Sun and moonlight illuminate us,
Pure snow cleanses our spirits.
We offer our bodies to the cold winds of the land,
Thanking the heavens for granting the Snow God’s children a place to survive.
May our hearts remain pure,
Sharing joy with our brethren,
Sharing their sorrow,
Forever praising the children of Bai Xue Jiao.
We pledge our souls and bodies as proof.”
Her serene chant filled the sacred space, carrying a sense of timeless devotion.
In the distance, Grand Decree Zhao Jianhua and Li Jian waited patiently for her ritual to conclude.
After what felt like an eternity, Yuan Kongye finally rose from her prayers. Her cold gaze swept toward Li Jian.
Seeing her for the first time, Li Jian was taken aback.
The architect of the apocalypse’s most powerful religious faction was a mere girl, barely twenty years old in appearance.
Quickly lowering his head, Li Jian stammered, “Greetings, Leader. I am Li Jian, saved by your blessing and alive today because of your grace.”
Yuan Kongye stepped closer, her measured footsteps echoing in the silent cathedral.
“I know who you are,” she said calmly.
“The Grand Decree tells me you are a beacon of hope, blessed by the Snow God with the power of harvest.”
Her voice carried an almost hypnotic quality, filling Li Jian with an overwhelming urge to kneel before her in worship.
“Raise your head, Li Jian,” Yuan Kongye commanded.
As if under a spell, Li Jian obeyed. His surroundings blurred, and the only thing that remained in focus was Yuan Kongye’s piercing gaze.
Her words etched themselves into his mind, unshakable and absolute.
“From this day forward, you are a Father of Bai Xue Jiao. Your arrival heralds a bountiful harvest. The Snow God guided you here, and you have a mission to fulfill.”
Li Jian’s blood surged with emotion.
He wasn’t just another survivor—he had been chosen by the divine!
“I am willing to give my all to Bai Xue Jiao!” Li Jian declared passionately.
Yuan Kongye smiled faintly. “Good. Come with me.”
Turning, she led him out of the cathedral toward a nearby derelict building.
When Li Jian regained some semblance of clarity, he found himself standing in a blood-red environment.
Inside the building was an enormous tree, its trunk five or six meters thick and cloaked in dark bark that pulsed with veins of crimson light.
The tree seemed to breathe, its surface expanding and contracting like the chest of a living creature.
Its branches sprawled across the space, their curled leaves resembling cocoons. Inside those cocoons, faint outlines hinted at something—or someone—trapped within.
Li Jian stared, slack-jawed, at the grotesque yet awe-inspiring sight.
“This is the Sacred Tree of Bai Xue Jiao,” Yuan Kongye said, gesturing toward the giant plant.
“It burrows hundreds of meters into the earth, drawing nutrients to produce its miraculous fruit. This fruit sustains us and is the key to our survival.”
Raising her hand, Yuan Kongye called down a vine from the tree. At its end hung a single crimson fruit, which detached and landed gently in her palm.
The tree’s intelligence and responsiveness were undeniable.
Li Jian finally understood the origin of the red fruit he had seen earlier.
Walking up to him, Yuan Kongye extended the fruit. Her soft smile contrasted sharply with the eerie surroundings.
“This is our hope for survival,” she said. “Would you like to taste it?”
Without hesitation, Li Jian accepted the fruit.
The moment he bit into it, a sweet yet unfamiliar fragrance overwhelmed his senses. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced.
The fruit’s flesh oozed a thick, blood-like liquid, yet it filled him with warmth and strength, banishing all hunger and cold.
“You are now Father Li,” Yuan Kongye said, her tone firm.
“Your mission is to nurture the Sacred Tree with your ability. Help it grow stronger, so it can provide for even more of our followers.”
Li Jian nodded fervently. “I will dedicate my life to this task!”
Approaching the tree, Li Jian drew a small knife and made a shallow cut on his hand.
Blood streamed freely from the wound, more than seemed natural, yet the tree absorbed every drop with ravenous greed. Its red glow intensified, pulsing like a beating heart.
Yuan Kongye stepped forward, placing a hand on his wound to stop the bleeding.
“From now on, you will feed the Sacred Tree daily. It is an honor and a responsibility,” she said gently.
Li Jian’s eyes shone with reverence, as if this duty had become his life’s purpose.
Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye.
At Zhang Yi’s Shelter, the team had rebuilt their snow-and-ice defenses, and no new enemies had appeared. Life settled into a comfortable rhythm.
With ample food, warmth, and entertainment, the group enjoyed a rare sense of peace.
But Zhang Yi, ever cautious, refused to grow complacent.
He spent several hours each day training with Liang Yue, honing his combat skills. Liang Yue, now more mature and reserved, treated the sessions seriously, often chastising Zhang Yi when he faltered.
Though professional during training, Liang Yue’s cheeks still flushed whenever their sparring led to accidental contact.
Meanwhile, the outside world was far from tranquil.
Chaoyu and Yangsheng Bases, weakened by their recent defeats, struggled to maintain control over their territories.
Not only were they powerless to stop Bai Xue Jiao’s missionary activities, but small armed factions within their lands began rising up, taking advantage of the chaos.
Though Tianhai City’s five major factions ostensibly controlled the region, the truth was far messier. Many underground organizations thrived in the shadows, waiting for their chance to claim resources.
In response, Chaoyu and Yangsheng redirected their attention inward, attempting to quell local unrest.
A fragile truce emerged among the five factions, each acknowledging the others’ territorial claims to avoid further conflict.
For now, none of them were willing to spark another large-scale war.