In the study, Lin Tuo stared at the sandbox with a grave and solemn expression, his brows furrowed tight.
On the virtual panel, the ether concentration was still marked as "Low," yet the vivid scarlet downward arrow at the end was enough to stir unease.
The ether had fluctuated before throughout the morning, but never for long.
Most of the time, the trend had been upward.
Now, however, the situation was clearly abnormal.
"What exactly went wrong? By all logic, society is still in a growth phase. There's no reason for it to drop.
Don't tell me… some unprecedented genius of cultivation has appeared, absorbing ether so quickly the world can't replenish it?"
Lin Tuo frowned at the thought, then willed the virtual panel open to read the latest log entries, hoping to find a clue.
Scanning through, he saw no mention of "war," "famine," or "disease"—nothing that should cause such a decline. His confusion deepened.
After re-reading several times, his gaze finally locked on one particular entry:
[World Year 3652, the Northern Church issues the "Inquisition" decree, ordering the pursuit and execution of the wizarding community within the Kingdom of Dreil.]
"Inquisition?" Lin Tuo muttered. A faint scent of something unusual caught in his mind.
This line was not particularly prominent among the entries. On an ordinary day, he might have brushed it off as just another religious conflict, a struggle for power.
But combined with the ether decline, it demanded his attention.
"Could it be that the drop in ether is tied to the slaughter of wizards?"
If his guess was right, the so-called wizards were likely either descendants of evolvers with extraordinary powers, or cultivators who had raised their life level beyond the ordinary.
By logic, such groups should stand at the top of human society. Even if different factions clashed, "execution" was a strange choice of word—one that carried a sense of imbalance.
Indeed, from the logs of the past thousand years, the wizarding community had once enjoyed immense authority.
Whether they had later declined, the record did not say, and Lin Tuo had no way of knowing.
"In any case, it's suspicious. Let's assume for the moment that wizards' life levels really do surpass those of ordinary people.
If a large number of them died in a short span, that would counteract the slow upward momentum of civilization and explain the ether's decline. The logic holds."
Turning this over in his mind, Lin Tuo shut the panel to clear his vision, then leaned closer to the sandbox to study the ether clouds drifting above the northern and southern continents.
Threads of pale green and white shimmered faintly as they spread across the skies of human nations.
The greater and more prosperous the city, the thicker the ether above it; while in remote lands with sparse settlements, one could hardly notice its presence at all.
Across the continents, the northern ether was clearly denser. Among the northern states, the skies above the Kingdom of Dreil glowed the brightest.
That had always been his main source of harvest.
At the moment, the ether clouds floated calmly, drifting slowly. Since he had set the time rate to 1:1 with reality, the decline was not dramatic—proof that this was no sudden disaster or war, but a gentler, steadier depletion.
Then, as his vision swept across the sky, he saw countless faint filaments.
Each one marked a person practicing the Qi-Absorbing Method.
In Dreil's capital, the filaments were thickest, densely packed until they formed a woven net.
Every second, some threads snapped, while new ones sprouted.
Yet compared to his morning observations, he now noticed far fewer of the thick filaments—the ones belonging to those with exceptional talent.
"So it really might be connected to the executions?"
His brows drew tighter. After a moment's hesitation, Lin Tuo decided to investigate directly.
The truth was still unclear. If this was nothing more than factional strife, then it fell within the natural course of human civilization.
But unease gnawed at him, whispering that something was amiss.
"Hopefully, I'm just overthinking this."
He gave a wry smile, then raised his hand to summon a clone.
After a thought, he chose not to appear directly in the capital. Instead, he lowered his hand toward a small town nearby, one where filaments of ether rose faintly into the air.
At the same time, he activated the "zoom" function.
The entire sandbox map swelled around that point, the once tiny speck of a town sharpening into clarity.
…
…
Springtime.
In every land, spring is a season that brings delight to most races.
On the northern continent, east of the Sunset Plains, the tail of the Pale Mountains bent in a curve. The towering peaks blocked the chill winds, while the Drinkhorse River rushed at their feet.
Thawed long before, the torrent wound along ancient channels, watering the vast plains and nourishing countless lives.
Scattered along its course stood many human towns.
One of them was Oakwood Town.
Its name was plain, a relic from the pioneer days—quite unlike the ornate style now fashionable in the Kingdom of Dreil.
Oakwood was no mere hamlet. By kingdom standards, it was mid-to-large in scale.
Churches and monasteries were established; poor laborers toiled there, yet wealthy merchants and nobles also resided. Closer to the town center, people walked in finery, past grand buildings that glittered with prosperity.
Yet the old town walls told a different story—weathered by years of wind and rain, badly decayed, with sections already collapsing. From afar, they lent the place an air of poverty.
"My lord, the eastern wall must be repaired before winter. The southeast section is in serious danger of collapse. If we don't fix it, it won't hold."
Within Oakwood Castle, Baron Carter walked stone-faced along the corridor, through the gardens, and into the study where he handled daily affairs.
There, his steward—who also served as his deputy—hurried up with a pained expression, clutching last year's repair plans.
The baron paused, distracted for a moment before nodding. His face remained expressionless.
"I understand. Leave it there. I'll review it later. Anything else?"
"Yes, one more matter. This morning, a messenger from the Church delivered a document. Since you had not yet risen, and it didn't seem urgent, I held it back. Here it is."
The steward handed over the document along with the repair plans.
But Baron Carter did not reach for it.
Instead, he froze where he stood, rigid, his whole body stiff.
His face, already stern, drained to a pale white—as though a long-dreaded moment had finally arrived.
End of Chapter.