The Defeated Saintess Is On A Journey To Tame The Evil God Book 01 Chapter 08.04.1 - Late September's Whispers

The entire starry sky is fake?

The words struck Xing Mo like a ton of bricks. Her pupils trembled, and she blurted out instinctively, "Impossible!"

According to the myths from the Age of Radiance, after the Goddess slew the Dragon of the Dark Moon and brought an end to the Evernight, her true form turned into countless eyes across the sky, watching over the mortal world. Only then did the abominations and horrors vanish, and the world slowly settled down in the aftermath of the Age of Gods.

To Xing Mo, the stars had always symbolized the Goddess’s eternal gaze. Yet, the café proprietress before her casually denied this belief.

No… Calm down… Don’t dismiss something just because it clashes with what you’ve always known… Blind rejection is the refuge of fools.

Xing Mo drew a deep breath, forcing herself to suppress the shock in her heart.

Seeing this, Miss Perlis sighed softly: "It's natural to resist ideas that overturn your understanding. It's a kind of instinctive self-defense. Just… relax."

Xing Mo’s grip on her emotions gradually steadied, and she asked carefully, "Could you explain it in more detail?"

A sudden thought flashed through her mind: in History and Mythology, Aurora had once mocked Professor Renault’s claim that the moon was the body of the Dragon of the Dark Moon, and even accused the entire Age of Gods narrative of being a fabrication.

The moon and the stars… both in the sky… Could there be a connection?

Perlis was silent for a long moment. Then she spoke, her voice both clear and soft, "It’s still too soon for you to grasp this truth. Understand—some knowledge brings harm the moment it’s known. That’s why I can’t tell you."

Aurora had said something similar once.

Feeling she had grasped a crucial point, Xing Mo pressed on, "Then… how can I learn it?"

"For humans, at least, one must reach the rank of Demigod—that’s eighth-string." Perlis tapped her chin thoughtfully with a slender finger, "Hmm… but you’re a little different. With your mark, six-string might be enough to withstand it."

Six-string? That’s just one step away! Xing Mo’s eyes lit up—only for a pang of disappointment to follow swiftly. At present, reaching six-string was impossible.

Within the Citadel of Academia, the ranks of Wizards were strictly governed. No one could attempt advancement at will.

The reason lay in the nature of humanity itself: as non-mythical beings, humans relied almost solely on their own spiritual force when interfacing with the strings. Mediums could offer only the barest assistance.

And spiritual force, when broken down, was essentially the power of the soul.

To resonate with the strings was to interfere with nature using the power of one’s soul. If anything went wrong during this delicate process, the soul would suffer the consequences directly.

And humans were born with but one soul. When a soul shattered, it meant death—true, irreversible death.

Because of this, the Citadel had established a rigid and meticulous system of advancement. Only when one’s soul was judged strong enough and passed a series of rigorous tests could official approval be granted.

The advancement ceremony centered on the String Harp. Advancing from one- to four-string required the presence of a Saint, while moving from five- to eight-string demanded a Demigod’s oversight.

It was more than ceremony—it was a protective measure.

And right now, the Citadel’s sole Demigod, Headmaster Merlin, was away on a trip, and it was unlikely he would return any time soon to oversee advancements.

Worse yet, at Xing Mo’s current stage, advancing would require the assistance of specialized ritual magic.

This type of ritual magic meant to reinforce the soul’s strength itself. But even that came with its own demands: only those who had cultivated their souls to a certain threshold could safely endure the process.

Xing Mo wasn’t sure if she was truly ready—and it didn’t matter. Headmaster Merlin was the only one in the entire Citadel capable of performing the necessary ritual magic. And with his absence, the possibility was effectively sealed.

"It seems I won’t be getting answers anytime soon." Xing Mo sighed quietly.

A sense of unease tugged at her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was no ordinary matter. It seemed to brush up against ancient secrets, perhaps even tied to Aurora’s cryptic plans surrounding the White Tower.

Noticing her dejected expression, Perlis smiled, "Don’t be discouraged. My intuition tells me… things will soon fall into place for you."

"I appreciate the kind words." Xing Mo murmured.

Shifting topics, she forced herself to focus on a more immediate concern, "About Steam Man—at the end of our last battle, it was close to going out of control. I’m worried it might suddenly resurface somewhere within the Citadel. If it chooses to self-destruct quietly, no one will be able to stop."

Perlis nodded, "A valid concern… If that happens, a lot of people will die."

"The Citadel’s leadership should hold ritual magic to prevent an incident like this." Xing Mo continued, "But after the councillor assassination, I’m not so sure. Even Nevirabeta Magic Academy’s defenses failed against it…"

"Hmm… true." Perlis conceded softly, then added, "Don’t worry. I’ll handle it for you."

Before Xing Mo could reply, Perlis snapped her fingers.

The air around them shifted, washed in a strange, pale luminescence. A small flame ignited at Perlis’s fingertip—pure white, so stark it seemed to bend the very space around it.

Xing Mo felt a wave of pressure crash against her.

Before she could speak, Perlis casually pinched the white flame between her fingers. Light strands flickered across the room, dispersing like ripples on water, before disappearing within moments.

"What… was that?"

Perlis raised her coffee cup with a faint smile, "Just a little trick. I’ve erased the possibility of it manifesting inside the Citadel at random. You can rest easy now."

Erased the possibility? Xing Mo pulled a face, sticking out her tongue. What does that even mean?

Before she could press further, the entire café suddenly trembled.

Rumble—

The floor and walls quivered as if the very air itself was shaking. Yet Perlis remained perfectly calm, sipping her coffee as though nothing was happening.

Before Xing Mo could react, the tremor ceased—as abruptly as it had begun. It was as though the quake had never happened.

"Was that… an earthquake?" Xing Mo glanced around.

"No need to panic." Perlis replied casually, watching the ripples in her cup, "It was just the result of my interference."

She gave a weary sigh, "That’s why I rarely leave the café. Being constantly watched is… irritating."

Xing Mo wasn’t sure she understood, but at the same time, a certain sense of clarity settled in her chest.

She came from beyond the “world”… and someone is monitoring her. If she interferes too much, it would trigger a reaction—like the tremor just now.

But… that tremor felt strong. Wouldn't it have devastated the streets of the Citadel? A chill ran through Xing Mo as the thought struck her.

In any case, this café proprietress isn’t someone to trifle with. At least Demigod-level… like Principal Merlin.

So far, she seemed friendly. Best not to provoke her.

Steeling herself, Xing Mo straightened up, "Thank you for your help. Um… should I pay with a story again this time?"

Perlis set down her cup with a small smile, "Yes. But this time, I want a particular story."

"A particular one?" Xing Mo tilted her head, "You mean…?"

Perlis pushed the cup aside and leaned forward, her gaze curious, "I want to hear the story of Aurora Havelgaad."

Xing Mo’s expression shifted at the name. She hesitated a moment, then nodded, "Alright. It started when I woke up on the steam train. She was sitting right there beside me…"

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