Chapter 200: Ceremony

Chapter 200 The Ceremony

Although Kemmy was surprised, she obediently put down the envelope: "Oh, then I'll come see you tonight. You're aware that the succession ceremony will be held tomorrow, right?"

Whenever a new king ascends, a ceremony must be held. They need to swear an oath to the deities under the Mother Tree, vowing purity of body and mind, dedicating their entire lives to the race.

There were many details of the ceremony that needed to be finalized, but Percy had no time to attend to them. He clutched the envelope tightly, unable to think clearly.

The handwriting on the cover was elegant and dignified, with a leaf pressed at the bottom of the envelope. The veins of the leaf shone in beautiful gold, clearly from the top branches of the Mother Tree. It was evident that the letter came from Iluvair.

Had the deity left him a message?

The room had been sealed for a long time, and a layer of dust covered the envelope. Judging by the thickness of the dust, it must have been left before he left Song Mountain.

What did this letter, delayed by six months, contain?

Percy didn't dare to think too much about it. He tore open the envelope and read hastily.

The message from the deity was simple, consisting of only a few sentences. It explained that he hadn't intentionally distanced himself from Percy but had fallen into a deep sleep due to the presence of death. He also reassured Percy not to worry and to serve well as the elven king, promising to attend the Full Moon Festival once he awoke.

At the end, Iluvair added solemnly: "Percy, I don't dislike you; quite the opposite, you are one of my favorite elves."

Back then, Iluvair and Percy weren't very familiar, and the elven race had seen several equally brilliant elf kings. Thus, Iluvair carefully used the phrase "one of."

The signature was a beautiful flourish, signed as Iluvair.

"..."

In just a few words, everything became clear.

Percy stared blankly at the letter, speechless for a long time. His hand, gripping the envelope, trembled slightly, and despite his efforts to control himself, he had crumpled the paper into several creases.

After returning from South Lake, Percy never understood why the attitude of the Mother Goddess had changed. Not only did she tolerate him, this soul-tainted "outsider," but she also showed affection and fondness towards him.

Percy thought it was because he had brought back information about the dead aura. As the only distance elf who had ventured deep into the heart of the dead aura, he was still useful to the elven race, and that was why the deity had put aside their prejudices and shown some closeness. As for himself, the deity did not like him.

Otherwise, after ignoring him for two lifetimes, how could there be such a sudden change?

But this letter appeared before he went to South Lake.

In places unknown to him, the deity had been silently watching over him all along.

The deity had never despised him; instead, they were worried, fearing that he might have misguided thoughts. They had left a letter, attaching a piece of divine essence as proof.

Percy took a deep breath, a complicated and unfamiliar emotion welling up in his chest. He pondered confusedly, "So, I am a spirit cherished by a deity?"

Not because he was useful, nor because he was willing to sacrifice his life for his race, but because the deity had always loved him, without ever changing.

After two lifetimes of self-loathing and countless sleepless nights, Percy slowly exhaled a long-held breath.

He carefully wiped away all the dust and wrinkles on the letter, then stored it in a hidden compartment of the bookshelf.

Standing before the cabinet, Percy stood in a daze for a long time.

After the initial bewilderment, deeper thoughts began to surge. Percy quietly sat at his desk, filled with many questions.

For instance, if the deity had been watching him all along, did they deliberately ensure that he retained his memories when he returned to the Mother Tree? Why did his notebook appear on the deity's desk? What about the half-elf youth who appeared and disappeared out of nowhere? And...

The chilling encounter that happened before his death.

He had lost control in pleasure, sinking into the affair, the young demon's palm burning hot. Percy deliberately tried not to think about it, but he couldn't block the sensation from his mind.

If the Mother Goddess were watching him, would she also see that absurd and chaotic scene?

If she saw it, what would she think?

Would she find it unbearable, disgusting, that the elf she favored was indulging in love, doing things that disgraced his dignity, or...

Or what else?

Percy struggled to maintain his composure, yet his mind was a fog, thick and impenetrable, unable to distinguish the path taken from the way back.

More absurd, more unimaginable details surfaced in his thoughts—the deity holding his soul to sleep, the youth embracing him to sleep in the same manner; the youth's face, clear and beautiful, a half-demon without a trace of allure; and his face, slightly resembling the deity's.

Percy barely managed to support himself on the desk. He was familiar with the youth's face and eyes; during the months by South Lake, they had faced each other morning and night, even sharing a bed, but he was not familiar with the deity's face.

Staring directly at a deity was extremely disrespectful. Whenever the Mother Goddess appeared, the elves would lower their eyes, fixing their gaze on the hem of her robes, while the Mother Goddess usually remained at the treetops, keeping a distance from the elves. No one dared to carefully observe the deity's appearance.

Percy had only glanced hastily at the deity's face in his soul state, without a proper look. He had a vague impression, but could not be certain.

Was the Mother Goddess's face the same as that of the youth who appeared out of nowhere?

This conjecture was absurd and blasphemous, yet it grew wildly in his thoughts like spring grass, impossible to suppress. As he was in a daze, a knock came from the door.

Kemi's voice sounded from outside: "Lord Percy? Are you well?"

Percy snapped out of his daze: "...I'm fine, is there something wrong?"

Kemi replied: "It's still about the succession ceremony, there are many matters for you to review."

Percy said, "Come in."

He thought, "Yes, there's also the succession ceremony."

The Elven race was skilled in song, dance, and music. Apart from anomalies like Kemi, almost every elf could play at least one instrument. They held feasts for all sorts of reasons, singing and dancing under the Mother Tree. The coronation of a new Elf King was undoubtedly a good opportunity, being one of the grandest celebrations within the clan, with music often playing throughout the night.

When an Elf King succeeded to the throne, the Mother Goddess would appear. Percy was the first Elf King whose succession ceremony had no divine presence, and Kemi was the second.

Percy thought, "Perhaps when the Mother Goddess appears, I can take a closer look."

*

The succession ceremony was scheduled for the following evening.

It was a mild midsummer night, and the news of the deity’s reappearance had already spread among the clan.

The exiled former king returned to the Mother Tree, personally escorted by the deity, who then delivered a divine decree, reinstating the former king to his throne.

Rumors that the former king was detested by the Mother Goddess were dispelled, and Percy was undoubtedly an elf favored by the Mother Goddess.

Thus, the elves’ attitudes subtly shifted. The Council of Elders no longer dared to openly or covertly mock him, and other elves did not dare to be negligent. Even the fabric of the ceremonial robe sent to Percy was of better quality than before.

Elves skilled in weaving carefully straightened each silk thread, the fabric shimmering with a satin-like luster, like a fragment of moonlight.

The only problem was...

Percy lifted three outfits, "...Kemi, is this what the Elf King’s ceremonial robes look like now?"

Why did they have less and less fabric, becoming more and more sheer, with silver chains hanging as small decorations on each?

Kemi rubbed his nose, "You know, the Mother Goddess likes it."

Neither Kemi nor Percy could make the Mother Tree respond until the Elven King dressed in such a manner.

Percy: "."

He massaged his temples, a headache forming: "I think there’s been a misunderstanding… Kemi, do you have any other outfits prepared?"

Kemi: "I’m afraid not."

Percy had no choice but to pick one up: "Alright then."

It wasn’t the first time he had dressed like this before the Mother Goddess; it was nothing to worry about.

The elves gradually gathered beneath the Mother Tree, all donning pure white robes, encircling the tree. At the very center, above the roots of the Mother Tree, stood the Council of Elders and the Elven King.

The elders conducted the ceremony, reciting blessings as harps and flutes played grand music that echoed through the valley.

In the treetop, Ilu put down his quill.

He had been pulling at his hair, annotating Percy’s notes, trying to find a method of purification. Hearing the sounds from below, he suddenly realized it was time for Percy’s coronation.

Ilu pushed back his chair, stretched, and walked toward the barrier.

Lying on the deity’s head, 66 asked: "Lord Ilu, are you going to attend the ceremony?"

"Of course," Ilu replied, "If I don’t go, Percy will be heartbroken."

Though Ilu had shown great affection, Percy remained somewhat apprehensive, as if the Mother Goddess might withdraw her favor at any moment.

And a child who had been soothed with great effort after being hurt would be very difficult to comfort again if harmed once more.

Thus, when the elder began to chant the blessing, Ilu descended from the treetop and landed on a branch.

His gaze fell upon the Elven King, and he couldn't help but think, "Who taught him to dress like this?"

In South Lake, the Elven King had wished to wrap himself like a rigid mummy, with no part of his skin exposed. Now, he was dressed far too lightly.

Cold silver chains hung from his skin, making his pale complexion appear even whiter. The chains swayed incessantly as he walked and bent, drawing Ilu's eyes to the curves of his waist and chest.

Ilu thought the attire was inappropriate, but he did not look away.

Percy's body was beautiful.

Every line of this body was crafted by Ilu, a work that the deity found very satisfying. His gaze lingered on the inward curve at the waist, recalling its texture.

It felt very comfortable to hold.

As the deity observed the Elven King from a distance, the Elven King also lifted his head, gazing at the deity with near reverence.

Elves have excellent vision, able to see every detail of a face from dozens of meters away. No elf had dared to look directly at Ilu's face before, out of respect and awe, but if they wanted to, they could see clearly.

Now, Percy very much wanted to look.

The deity sat with perfect composure, his hands folded neatly on his knees. Silver hair cascaded down his back, the ends resting on the branch, as he nodded courteously to the elders, signaling for the ceremony to continue.

It was truly a face of unparalleled perfection and familiarity.

Every contour of the deity's face was too smooth, every hue too flawless. It was a face beyond imagination, a masterpiece adored by all living things in Pine Mountain.

The truths that Percy had deliberately ignored and subconsciously rejected began to surface.

This face, Percy had seen before.

The deity bore a striking resemblance, seven parts alike, to the half-elf, half-succubus youth who had vanished without a trace.

Percy was speechless.

Even with mental preparation, the shock of this moment overwhelmed everything. He stared blankly at the deity, and the first memory that surfaced in his mind was the last moment of his life, lying under a pine tree as the deity's fingertips lifted his clothes and touched his skin.

It was scorchingly hot.

"..."

In a daze, Percy thought: "What have I done?"

What had he done?

At the end of his life, he had sought the favor of the master of Pine Mountain, arching his body, stretching his toes, sweating, panting, savoring the pleasure bestowed by the deity.

Pleasure that was considered filthy and taboo within the elven race.

In an instant, Percy's face turned half white.

Overwhelmed by immense shame, Percy clutched his clothes and averted his gaze almost frantically, no longer daring to look at the deity.

He could not fathom why the deity would do such a thing, nor how the deity viewed him. Thus, during the coronation ceremony, under the gaze of the deity he had once yearned for so desperately, Percy suddenly felt an urge to flee.

It was too absurd.

Eilu, tilting her head slightly with a 66 on top, said, "Hmm?"

The deity perched on the tree, acutely sensing the elf's emotional shift, but Ilu struggled to grasp the elves' overly intricate sentiments and couldn't understand what had transpired.

"66" tilted his head in unison: "Hm?"

The system was equally puzzled.

Below, the council of elders had finished reciting the lengthy blessing, dabbing holy water on the forehead of the Elven King and pinning a valley lily, symbolizing purity, there as well.

Next came the oath-taking ceremony.

Oaths seemed to be an essential part of all rituals, much like human weddings where, regardless of true love or mere appearances, vows were made under the gaze of a priest. The same applied to the Elven King's succession ceremony.

The elder pulled out the centuries-old script: "Percelia, do you vow to dedicate your life to the elven race, to nurture the weak and protect the sick, becoming a stronghold and fortress for your people?"

Hearing these words, Percelia snapped back to reality: "Yes, I do."

The elder continued: "Do you vow to regard every fellow elf as a companion, never to deceive or betray them?"

Percelia: "Yes, I do."

The oath-taking proceeded smoothly until the elder asked: "Do you vow to consecrate yourself entirely to the Mother Goddess, body and soul pure, and absolutely loyal?"

Percelia: "Yes, I..."

He suddenly paused, his voice hoarse and dry, unable to continue.

Then, the Elven King gripped the hem of his robe, his fingers trembling uncontrollably.

Indeed, how could he take such an oath?

The Mother Goddess sat atop the tree, observing everything below. She knew what Percy had done, what he had prayed for, and she had even seen his soul—a slightly soiled, grayish little light.

The Mother Goddess was fully aware of what the elf in pure white robes was like in private.

How could he dare to swear?

If he did, it would be deceiving the divine.

Deceiving the divine, openly hiding, what sin this was, Percy did not know.

Great shame and embarrassment threatened to overwhelm him. The Elven King remained silent, and the entire ceremony fell into an eerie silence.

The people watched the Elven King from behind, their doubts growing as they whispered among themselves. Some believed, others were puzzled.

Though Percy was not favored by the Mother Goddess, he had a good reputation within the clan. He was a respected and beloved Elven King, and the people acknowledged his character and revered his integrity. Most of them believed that the Elven King was pure and faithful.

The elder had to clear his throat, raise his voice, and repeat the second time: "Percy Lya, do you swear to dedicate everything to the Mother Goddess, body and soul clean, spirit pure, and absolutely loyal?"

"..."

All the eyes of the clan were focused here, waiting for the Elven King to complete the oath. Percy felt as if needles were pricking his back. His arm, hidden in his sleeve, trembled violently, and his voice was hoarse. Kemi stood beside him, unable to help but urge, "Lord Percy, speak! Speak quickly!"

"..."

Silence, still silence.

His tall, straight back was taut and rigid, his emerald eyes lost their luster, and after a moment of trembling, his eyelashes closed his eyes.

Seeing this, the whispers behind him grew louder and louder, filled with doubt.

The elders had to shout to maintain order, while Kemi lowered her voice: "Lord Percy, what’s wrong? Speak up!"

Percy: "..."

He took a deep breath, preparing to tell the truth.

Enjoying pleasure was true, and his soul being darkened was also true. Percy would not deceive; he would expose these unseemly things to the light, awaiting the judgment of the deity.

Thus, the Elven King slowly began: “I don’t…”

Before he could finish, a hand pressed down on his shoulder.

The hand was long and beautiful, with distinct bones, cold and pale skin, and a slightly lower temperature.

It was Illuvial’s hand.

The deity descended from the branch, pressing a hand on Percy’s shoulder to stop him from speaking.

His silver eyes, devoid of emotion, swept across the scene, and the deity spoke calmly: “The throne of the Elven King is granted by me. His body and soul are naturally pure and absolutely steadfast. This oath can be skipped.”