He is the leader of the Tantric sect in Chagdu.

After saying goodbye to the shepherd, the two continued along the country road for quite some time—they had really believed that old man's lies! He himself didn't seem tired riding the cart, lying to outsiders that they would "arrive soon," only to find that the road suddenly turned uphill for the rest of the journey...

Without skyscrapers as barriers, the deep wilderness... the blue sky and green land here truly embody boundless expanse. The two colors, one above the other, dominate the world, filling the backdrop with an illusory filter.

Mountains and rivers are reduced to monotonous blocks of color, and the boundaries of direction are blurred—so the eyes become a deception, and the tiny villages at the edge of the field of vision look very close, but the actual distance is far greater than expected.

After what felt like an hour and a half, we finally arrived at Rust Village.

"We've arrived...Are you alright?"

Although Rhodes was from a wealthy family, he had a dream of becoming a detective and paid attention to training, so he was in excellent physical condition. Therefore, Ai in this body was only slightly tired.

Meanwhile, Abram, standing beside him, was clearly struggling to withstand the intensity.

With a hint of disdain, Ai quietly pulled away Abram's sweaty arm, which was wrapped around her neck, and patted him on the shoulder with a chuckle, handing the pale-faced young man a water bottle: "I'll even carry your bag for you..."

"Thank you." Abram tilted his head back and drank the water down, not caring about etiquette. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, silently stuffed the water bottle back into his bag, and fastened the canvas cover. His tone was sinister. "But I still hope... you won't rummage through my things."

"Sorry." Ai sincerely apologized and returned the backpack to the other party—he had indeed secretly looked through Abraham's personal belongings when he wasn't paying attention. Although it was to satisfy his "copy collector's obsession," what he did was ultimately inappropriate.

He blinked and began to change the subject: "Don't you think this village... is abnormal?"

Contrary to what Ai had imagined—this village, so small that it was almost unrecognized by Ys, did not give the impression of being dilapidated or abandoned. Instead, it was full of vitality… a strange life force that was decaying but not languishing, small but not extinguished.

"Rust Village...it's been like this for a long time," Abram murmured to himself. "It hasn't changed at all."

He took a deep breath, seemingly wanting to start a conversation, but hesitated, and silently took a step forward under Ai's interested gaze.

"Will you continue?"

Turning his head to glance at the persistent figure behind him, Abram sighed heavily and said in a self-deprecating tone, "That's right... it's exactly what you think. This place, the land we're standing on... is where I was born, my homeland."

Ai smiled and then listened quietly.

The presence of a strange and unfamiliar companion seemed to trigger some kind of expressive urge in Abram, and the previously taciturn young man finally became more talkative.

He spoke in a soliloquy tone: "As far back as I can remember, about twenty years ago, this is what Rust Village looked like. Of course... back then it wasn't called Rust Village. This village used to have an older name—Agdiu, which in the old local context means 'a place near the sky'."

"The place adjacent to the sky..." Playing the role of a proper listener, Ai repeated the phrase, showing a thoughtful expression, "It's a grand and beautiful meaning."

"Hmph..." Abram didn't deny it, but he didn't seem to agree. He said in a mocking tone, "It only sounds nice... Looking back now, Rusty Village is the most suitable name for this place. Everything is like rough iron covered in rust, hard, rigid, a pool of stagnant water..."

He took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with resentment, and continued, "From the time I was born, to when I left here six years ago, and now that I'm back... nothing has changed. Do you understand this nauseating feeling? For decades, even centuries, in the time it takes for even steel to rust, this damned village is still the same as it was at the beginning—so backward, so ignorant, so stagnant, so rotten..."

"You hate it here."

Ai Yi seemed lost in thought as she continued to look around at the scenery: Rusty Village had no checkpoints or similar structures, so mules and horses came and went, and wooden carts crushed the soil into fine dust. People used this primitive and slow method to transport raw materials such as furs, spices, and smoked meat deep into this ancient village, as if it would continue until the end of time.

Ai was momentarily lost in thought, and murmured softly, "Even though this is where you were born."

Abram did not remain silent for long before uttering a crisp "Yes."

"Yes, I just hate it here..." he said, then silently clenched his fist. "In New Tunling, there are always new changes. Going out every day... is always something to look forward to. I've experienced moments of spiritual upliftment, of vibrant life, of joy that flows like a spring—this is how the world should be..."

Well……

It's quite normal for young people to like change and development.

But this village is truly strange—in an era when the outside world has entered the pioneering stage of large-scale industry, it still retains a primitive and simple way of life. Analyzing from Abram's words... this situation may have lasted for hundreds of years.

Is this the legendary de-urbanization?

Perhaps some force is hindering its change.

Ai pondered quietly, then asked softly, "But the residents here don't seem as rigid and inflexible as you described. I see their joy—everyone is living life earnestly, seemingly enjoying this slow and unhurried pace..."

Even without opening his Insightful Eyes, Ai could sense the tangible "vitality" emanating from the villagers; they enjoyed life there and devoted their passion and effort to it.

"This is the most disgusting part..." A complex light flashed in Abram's eyes, a mixture of confusion, disgust, helplessness, and compromise. "I'm really fed up with this kind of 'effort' that stays stagnant; it's utterly hypocritical..."

"Perhaps." Ai stretched, smoothly interrupting Abram's accusations; he didn't want to listen anymore.

Before exploring this place further, he could not judge the merits of the two schools of thought, "stop" and "go forward"—provided that there was truly no mysterious force involved.

Why does it feel like... the waters of Rusty Village have gotten deeper?

Shaking her head vigorously, Ai drove away the unease deep in her heart and used her favorite pastime, random thoughts, to distract herself—she seemed to have just heard the word "water" mentioned, and Ai realized that Rusty Village seemed to be a village built on the water.

Tall wooden windmills and waterwheels built along the riverbank—these giants, swaying with the wind and water, seem to be the source of power for Rusty Village. The village is built on the river, with mills, artisan shops, and leather workshops arranged along the waterways...

"Flowing from the source of the high mountains, it is called the Yi-Luo River."

Seemingly realizing that his current ideas were not resonating with Ai, Abram stopped offering his opinions and reluctantly became his guide:

"The river beneath our feet, the Ilo, is one of the four branches of the 'Great River,' a gift flowing from the garden behind the sky. It is said that gold, jewels, and fragrant resins are buried beneath its riverbed—perhaps it is true, or more likely it is just a vague rumor, but no one cares..."

"A...river?"

Other words did not cause Ai Yi any reaction, but when she heard this word... a strange flash of inspiration seemed to appear.

The specific feeling is like having just gone through an "inspiration check".

-Dahe...

He shook his head more vigorously, but the drowsiness only intensified...

The second time the word was repeated in the brain, a strange sensation grew stronger and stronger, like burying one's head in a soft cream cake, with even the blood vessels filled with a sweet smell, and red liquid flowing slowly like honey, gradually solidifying.

Ai pinched the soft flesh on her arm—

After the sharp pain subsided, the strange sensation quickly dissipated, just like when he first saw the "Sun" upon entering Ys... Apart from the momentary shock at first sight, nothing remained.

-It seems I've run into a big shot again.

In the secret history of "lost", even when touching something great, the echo can only bring him a slight tremor in the faintest way, like the downy hairs curling up when near a fire, or the eyelids closing when near a needle - a subtle sensitivity like stress.

This is the best place to uncover secrets... without even having to pay the price of restlessness and fear.

He spoke softly:

"Abram, is there anywhere in the village...where there are many books? Preferably older ones..."

"have."

Abram stopped almost instantly and looked up at the same time, and Ai followed suit—and found themselves in front of a small church built of white marble... or rather, a chapel.

- Is there a church in such a small village?

Abram’s destination seemed to be here. He took a deep breath and stepped forward to gently knock on the white-painted wooden door.

Soon, less than a minute later, an old man slowly emerged from the depths of the church, his leather boots making no sound as they trod on the amber-colored wooden floor.

"welcome."

His voice was deep and calm, without the unfamiliarity of a local to the common language. It was fluent and had its own charm. His elegant accent was like an old-fashioned pipe organ, wrapped in a natural hoarseness, yet it could inexplicably make people relax.

"Please make yourself at home. It's not Sunday today, so there aren't many worshippers here. Everyone is very busy."

The old man spoke softly, gesturing an invitation to the two of them.

"Excuse me," Abram said softly, then pulled Ai into the chapel.

Though small, it has everything you need: This chapel may not be large, but it has all the necessary decorations, including a stained glass dome and stained glass windows, white walls and bright lighting that makes the amber floor shine.

The old man, dressed in a wide, white robe, came out of the inner hall again. His attire was solemn and dignified, yet his kind face added a touch of warmth to his appearance.

His curly hair and short beard were pure white, like wool. His face looked very old, and only his still gentle features hinted at his youthful handsomeness. He stood very straight, his back and broad shoulders unmoving, like an ancient pine tree that had withered but still stood firmly on the earth, strong and upright.

"Charon... Your Majesty." Abram stepped forward, spoke softly, and then stood beside the old man, saying gently, "I have returned."

Charon's eyes seemed a little uneasy. Since he appeared, he had not fully opened his eyes, only revealing a glimpse of his deep red pupils through his squinted eyes as he carefully examined the young man in front of him through the frameless glasses on his nose.

"Child... Your name has been heard by the Lord, so I remember you, Gern? Right?"

Charon slightly opened his eyes; they were deep red eyes… reminiscent of dried blood, unlike vibrant fresh blood, these were lifeless, no longer flowing, leaving only something solidified like a swamp.

"I'm sorry..." Abram lowered his head, his eyes darting away. "I... I've run away from that house. I've lost my original name, and I've forgotten it. The person I am now... is Abram."

He raised his head, looked at Charon with his dark eyes, and repeated, "Your Majesty, my name is Abram."

Charon didn't answer immediately; he simply shook his head and smiled, "Little Genn, you've grown up... You never used to call me Your Majesty; you hated that word. You liked to pull on the white trim of my robe and whisper 'Grandpa Charon' in my ear..."

Abram's breathing became visibly rapid, and he opened his mouth, but no sound came out of his blocked throat.

This is bullying a child...

Ai immediately recognized that the old man was extremely skilled in rhetoric. With one counterattack, he almost made Abram shut up. Now, no matter what the young man wanted to say, whether it was casual conversation or serious business, he would always be overshadowed by Charon's "super seniority".

A mysterious old man...

However, Ai's attention was quickly diverted to something else. On the four walls of the small chapel were four exquisitely carved murals. Without realizing it, Ai took a step and walked to one of the portraits.

He pointed around and asked, "What...what are all these?"

Charon stopped discussing the meaning of names with the red-faced Abram and smiled at Ai: "I am delighted to see such a scene—young people from outside who are willing to listen to the Lord's teachings..."

He turned his head, tucked his long, white sleeves behind his back, and then said loudly:

"The gods are the original masters of the world—we know there are four gods who existed before humankind. They are the 'most ancient,' existing only slightly after the world itself. They were born from the first light, the first breeze, the first drop of honey, and the first piece of wood or stone. Time only began to flow and be given meaning after them; they predate wisdom and life."

-The oldest god...

Ai Yimo silently looked at the first mural:

On the boundless land, a colossal entity, even more majestic than mountains, stands at the edge of the world, its reach unseen—

Charon's calm voice rang out from the side:

"In ancient legends... a towering tree stabilized the earth's form. Its trust made the soil and stones abandon their doubts about life. From then on, living things emerged from the murky mud. They took on all sorts of forms, some with four limbs, some with many legs, some crawling, some running. Strange creatures gathered on the earth to live, reproduce, sing, and laugh..."

Such an image and description...

Ai stared at the giant tree, silently narrowing her eyes.

There is no mistake, this is "Mother Mi", the name I learned from the secrets of the sacred tree - the great mother who was skinned and had her belly fluids drained during the grand pilgrimage of "Skinning Feast", the rotten heart of the celestial being.

Then, the second one...

A familiar perfect circle; I know this guy too well, let's skip that.

Then, the composition of the next two murals left Ai Yi somewhat bewildered—

The third image is a scene resembling falling rain, with raindrops trailing long "stretches" at the end, dripping with a viscous texture, converging into countless intricate lines, like human blood vessels or pulses, or like riverbeds on the earth.

Perhaps this is... "The Great River"?

The fourth one was also hung in the center of the church:

Feathers, fragmented shadows, clouds, rain, and mist, spiral-shaped vortexes... all the images are separated from each other, yet coexist in the same scene, finally encircled by an irregular circle.

This is?

"Excuse me, sir, may I have a few minutes to introduce you to the deity we worship?"

Charon's tone rose a notch, almost hoarse from an aged voice, "Great Wind Spirit, master of clouds and storms, the first winged being, king of echoes, forever singing, the promised land, paradise suspended in the heavens..."

"Our exalted destination... is the Lord!"

I really like your prayer.

Looking at the slightly out-of-breath old man in front of her, Ai tilted her head and suddenly felt like laughing...

But my radar isn't responding—is this a pseudonym?

What a waste of my feelings!

Although somewhat disappointed at not receiving the true name of this "Lord," Ai still gained something; he at least learned "the secrets of the gods from the time of Ys":

There are four “most ancient” gods who are almost the same age as the world, existing before the birth of wisdom: one born of the wind, one born of the light, one born of wood and stone, and one born of honey.

Unfortunately, two people have already been confirmed dead.

So what era is this exactly?

Before Ai could continue trying to extract information from him, Abram suddenly exclaimed softly, "Grandpa Charon."

Seeing that both of their attention was focused on him, he hesitated for a moment, then closed his eyes and solemnly asked, "Where does my...father live now?"

"..."

Charon's expression was somewhat strange. He waved his hand and chuckled, "You want to go find your father? You left without a word for six years, without even sending a single letter home... Do you think he would want to see you? Or... do you think he would forgive your naivety?"

Abram took a deep breath, not avoiding the pointed question: "If I had to choose again... I would still leave, but I would take my sister with me. Grandpa Charon, you simply don't understand the outside world..."

"Alright..." Charon forced out two sharp gasps from deep in his throat, and after a half-minute silence, he said solemnly, "You don't need to see your father. Old Gern died three years ago."

-This...this is how he died?

Ai was stunned, surprised that Charon had so easily brought up a seemingly heavy question.

He immediately went to observe Abram's reaction... but found that his expression didn't change much, as if he wasn't particularly affected by his father's death. On the contrary... he became even more resolute, like pig iron pulled from a furnace—

"In that case," Abram closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, "I'm even more determined to take her away... Lily, my sister, where is she now?"

"Thump—"

Charon, standing before the altar, slammed shut the thick book that had been open there, and placed his right hand on his chest, making a complex prayer gesture.

"May the Lord have mercy—"

He opened his dark red eyes, his gaze boiling like stagnant blood, and said, slowly and deliberately, "Perhaps you're too late..."

The next moment, the old man closed his eyes tightly, his hoarse voice sounding like a prayer: "I'm sorry, I have to tell you this. May God forgive my heart for trying to hide it. I can't tell such a cruel truth to a child I watched grow up... But you are so resolute, so I have no choice but to cut open your heart and stuff this bitter fruit into it—"

He said, "Your sister went missing three days ago."