Chapter 20

Chapter 20

In the dimly lit room, two intertwined streams of flame rose from the small, pale palm, seemingly containing something else within. However, the flames were too dark and spun too quickly, making it impossible for Miced to see clearly.

In an instant, the flames dispersed, revealing a "crystal cup" that refracted a magnificent spectrum of colors in Miced's vision.

It was so pure, without a single impurity, as if congealed from pure water.

The cup bore no overly intricate patterns—its lower half was smooth and transparent, entirely devoid of decoration, while the upper half featured only simple polygonal joints. At each rounded corner, a kaleidoscope of colors shimmered.

At the sight of such an exquisite "crystal cup," Miced's breath caught in his throat.

Compared to this divine masterpiece, the items in his hands seemed unbearably crude, as if clouded with haze. Upon closer inspection, tiny bubbles could be seen within, their thread-like imperfections magnified infinitely by the contrast.

Lord Holy Son was right—this thing was utterly unworthy of his noble status. It was simply his own lack of worldly knowledge.

"Lord Holy Son, your crystal cup is truly perfect, clearly no ordinary object accessible to common folk. Then what should we do with this pair of cups? Sell them?" After spending this time together, Miced had a rough understanding of Ning Chan's principles: accumulating money and provisions, then distributing them as rewards to the faithful who worked for their cause.

As far as Miced knew, this Holy Son genuinely wished for everyone to live a better life.

Looking around, thanks to the work arranged by the church these past days, the number of street thugs and beggars had noticeably dwindled. The look of hardship on the faces of passersby had lessened considerably. It was as if they had found light, slowly breathing life back into this chaotic city.

If Lord Holy Son disliked these flawed items, he might as well exchange them for money or provisions to support his work.

After all, keeping it wasn't an option. Just from that single questioning glance earlier, Miced felt as though his flesh seemed on the verge of splitting. Some viscous fluid seeped out amidst the pain, threatening to soak through his clothes.

Ning Chan keenly noticed a faint trace of blood in the air, but what did that have to do with him? He hadn't lifted a finger.

Watching Miced, whose forehead was slick with cold sweat and whose entire body was wound tight with tension, Ning Chan saw no reason to offer him any comfort.

"Where I come from, these are very ordinary items, not particularly hard to make. Since people in this realm seem to adore them so much, let’s have more produced and bestow them upon those who contribute to charitable causes. What do you think?" Ning Chan flicked his finger, and a stream of red liquid appeared above the "crystal cup," slowly pouring into it.

The transparent "crystal cup" gradually filled with the red liquid, giving off a sweet scent.

Holding the cup filled two-thirds with the liquid, Ning Chan lightly pressed it to his lips. As he tilted it slightly, the liquid flowed, staining his pale pink lips a deep crimson and leaving them glistening.

The scene—composed of candlelight, crystal, and the youth—was one of beauty, yet it sent chills down Miced's spine.

Whether from sun exposure, his own terror, or the blood loss, Miced felt his vision kept darkening.

For a fleeting moment, he thought Ning Chan was drinking blood.

Though reason told him Ning Chan was a "benevolent" divine envoy, not a devil from hell, it did little to ease the fear of sinners like him, who saw only the half-open gates of hell beckoning.

Seeing that the man was lost in thought, neither answering nor stopping his trembling legs, Ning Chan rapped his fingers impatiently on the table. "Speak."

"Ah, yes." The Archbishop, now suffering from PTSD from Ning Chan, regarded Lord Holy Son with a mix of awe and terror—though fear dominated.

The slightest lapse in attention led him to demonize Ning Chan, scaring himself half to death.

Miced, forcing himself to calm down, dared not keep Ning Chan waiting any longer and obediently voiced his thoughts.

"If we could produce such holy artifacts, surely many nobles and merchants would be willing to assist us.

But can something like this truly be made by ordinary people like us?

If you need people to craft these, I wonder what limitations they might have.

Also, what materials must we prepare in advance to make them?"

Seeing that he had touched on the key points, Ning Chan refrained from punishing him further.

This fellow was still somewhat useful—if he were worked to sickness, they’d have to waste medicine just to keep him alive. Better to save the medicine and let him "tough it out" a little longer on his own.

"As for the candidates to make these, select them based on the same criteria as those who made pottery before.

As for the raw materials, round up these materials.

I’ll handle the rest—I’ll make other arrangements when the time comes."

Ning Chan explained the properties of soda ash, limestone, quartz sand, and some other materials—both related and unrelated to glassmaking—to Miced.

The man was experienced, worldly, and well-connected, so entrusting him with sourcing materials would surely be much easier.

Fearing mistakes, Miced jotted it all down.

Watching Miced use paper and pen, Ning Chan’s mind drifted—should papermaking also be added to the to-do list?

Parchment was expensive, and while it was worth the cost for recording theoretical techniques, using it for everyday purposes was just a waste of money.

Save the best steel for the blade, and money was no different. With so many areas needing improvement, they had to save where they could.

Moreover, producing paper and pens could add two more revenue streams for the church—hitting two birds with one stone.

Speaking of paper, Ning Chan couldn’t help but think of certain unavoidable bodily needs. For himself, it wasn’t an issue—he could simply grab a large leaf and use his Woodelement Superpower to soften its fibers, making it work like rough paper.

But what about others? He hadn’t paid much attention, but he figured it wasn’t exactly comfortable.

For the sake of everyone’s quality of life, churning this out in bulk should begin sooner rather than later.

With that in mind, after wrapping things up regarding the crafting of "crystal" with Miced, Ning Chan turned to Keladi. The man was into writing and doodling, so he would surely be enthusiastic about this task.

While Miced and the others prepared the raw materials, Ning Chan, with the Knights guarding him, took Kane to inspect the large kilns used for making pottery.

The kid had been stuck to him these past two days—perhaps frightened by the thunder from before.

Since the kid was bright and obedient, Ning Chan decided to bring him along. Maybe the boy really could start lightening his load sooner rather than later.

After observing him over this period, Ning Chan had come to realize that Little Kane was a genius.

Unlike himself, whose mental faculties had expanded through spiritual growth, Kane was a natural-born genius.

Little Kane could remember books after one read and connect the dots instantly. While other Apprentice Saints needed repeated study and digestion to absorb new knowledge, he could understand the essence in a short time.

Moreover, some of the questions he asked were quite profound—had Ning Chan not been book-smart, he might have struggled to answer them.

Drawing from his past life’s knowledge of prodigies, Ning Chan wasn’t overly surprised by Kane.Xiao’s abilities.

Children who recited classics at three, programmed at six, or solved university-level problems at ten were all run-of-the-mill for geniuses.

Wanting to observe Ning Chan further, Kane gradually revealed his uniqueness. Seeing that the other showed no signs of suspicion, he decisively made up his mind to stick close at all times.

After all, he's just a child now with plenty of room to grow, so why rush to get himself killed?

As for what identity to adopt to stay by Ning Chan's side, Kane thought being a guard knight would be perfect—he wasn’t interested in becoming a saint anyway.

"Chantulika, didn’t the bishop ask me earlier if I wanted to be an Apprentice Saint?

I’ve made up my mind—I don’t want to. You’re perfect as the saint. I think you’re great."

Though Ning Chan himself didn’t consider the position of saint to be anything special, Kane didn’t know that. Given his abilities, under normal circumstances, he would have a good shot at promotion later. But now he was saying he didn’t want to—clearly, he didn’t want to compete with his friend! Such a soft-hearted kid!

"Oh? Then what do you want to do? Without a proper position, you can’t stay in the church."

There was a designated orphanage, and if Kane didn’t choose a role within the church, he’d be sent there.

But Ning Chan was just asking casually—if he willed it, Little Kane could stay in the church forever.

"I want to join the Knights. Later, when you become the Holy Lord, I’ll be your holy knight." Kane clenched his fists, vowed to train relentlessly and protect Ning Chan in the future.

Looking at Kane’s thin arms and legs, Ning Chan sensed something wasn’t right. You’re the same kid who clings to me in fear during thunderstorms? How could you want to be a knight?

Though Ning Chan often saw Kane jogging and practicing swordsmanship at dawn, he only took it as a way for Kane to stay fit, never imagining he’d pursue a career swinging swords.

Besides, with a mind like yours, shouldn’t you be doing research? Why aim to be a bodyguard?

Despite having countless words of advice, Kane was like a stubborn mule hellbent on his path, convinced that becoming his holy knight would lead to a glorious future.

Like a fretful old dad, Ning Chan could only agree to Kane’s decision for now. After all, there was still time before adulthood—he’d have time to find his way.

And so, Apprentice Saint Ning Chan arrived at the pottery kiln estate with his knight-in-training, only to be stopped at the entrance by a group of bandits.