The Alchemist's Guide to Flesh and Blood Ascension

On this land where the "roots" are buried, the holy light and magical source gazed upon the cathedral, which seemed to compress the air into a suffocating atmosphere...

There was a basement where Uriel stood with his hands behind his back in front of a huge stone table, on which lay the fragments of the "holy remains" brought back by the Holy Prayer Seth.

To be precise, it was a piece of the stone-shelled giant worm that had fallen... an inconspicuous carapace, which, although separated from its main body, still had dark purple patterns on it that slowly writhed like maggots, a paradoxical sight, like an undead creature struggling in its death throes.

When the spinal cord scorpion dissipated that day, the few tiny fragments of the giant stone-shelled insect... also slowly turned into ashes on the ground.

Fortunately, Seth had the foresight to pick up a piece and preserve it in this specially made storage container beforehand.

Otherwise, none of the members of the excavation team would have survived to this point, which is ostensibly "accountability" but is actually "business dealing."

"As a result," the bishop's voice was as imposing as ever, and everyone in the basement lowered their heads involuntarily—no one wanted to be the one to "stick their neck out" when they couldn't figure out their leader's mood.

But eventually, an unlucky person had to step up. A person in charge of the research, dressed in a white priest's robe, stepped forward, presented a finely carved parchment, and bowed his head low.

"Lord Uriel, the energy form contained in the 'Holy Remains' is not exactly the same as any of the magical sources we know..." His back unconsciously bent, and his voice trembled slightly, "Its logic is more like the 'displacement' law of alchemy."

Uriel remained motionless, his face expressionless, which made the white-robed priest tremble with fear.

The latter knelt down without hesitation, his voice cracking as he said, "We...we've implemented a portion of the technology through it! It has an extremely strong ability to sense underground structures..."

"If this can be applied to small detection devices, we can theoretically lock onto any signs of life within 'Root' without entering the sewers!" He then fell silent, pressing his head firmly to the ground, ready to be at Uriel's mercy.

"Hehehe... Alright," the bishop chuckled abruptly, then posed two pointed questions: "How long? How many?"

"Three...three days, eighteen!" The white-robed priest felt a chill run down his spine. He raised his eyebrows, adopting an extremely comical posture, trying to see the bishop's expression.

"Tell those idiots in the alchemy workshop that they need one hundred pieces within three days, or else..." Uriel narrowed his eyes and continued, "all those involved will be treated as heretics. The Church doesn't support useless people."

The Crimson Bishop's gaze returned to the container on the table, his fingertips tapping the surface of the dark purple carapace.

The "Objectification of Gods" project has made no progress for three days in a row... Those damned plants and animals, for some unknown reason, keep sneaking into the laboratory and causing trouble!

He needs more manpower, more resources, and a relatively safe "back"... It's time to wrap up the "rat-catching" plan.

The white-robed priest staggered to his feet, repeatedly agreeing with the order, and rushed out the door.

"Let's talk about Bassos," Uriel said, looking at Seth with an undisguised scrutiny, but as always, he couldn't discern anything about the latter.

Indeed, after all, Seth was handpicked by him and even verified by his soul as a "loyal follower"... He was being paranoid.

After the excavation team returned, news of Bassos' death spread throughout the church in Hart City.

The passionate saint riding the dragon lizard, along with some members of that elite squad, vanished into the yellow sands, and the memories of every surviving follower were distorted...

It's as if time and space are distorted, causing his incoherent and nonsensical remarks when mentioning related experiences, making it impossible to piece together the truth.

But who cares? Uriel doesn't care about the truth; he only cares about the result. Bassos is dead, so the vacant position needs to be filled by someone more capable...

So he looked at Seth, the devout prayer master and leader of the first excavation team to go to Morse—impeccable both in public and private matters.

Above the Holy Prayer is the Saint. He cannot yet directly promote a new Saint within the branch, but... he can still grant Saint Seth the power he possesses.

“Unlike Bassos, you don’t constantly say ‘For my God’…” Uriel looked at the slightly bowed holy man, “Your faith in God is silent yet deafening, and most importantly, you led the team back alive, and that’s enough.”

The middle-aged man with purple hair, dressed in a deep red bishop's robe with gold trim, circled around Seth once, then calmly said, "From now on, you will be directly in charge of the 'Underground Cleanup'... It's time to get rid of those sewer rats too."

"Understood, Lord Uriel," Seth nodded solemnly, kneeling on one knee.

"Very well, go back now, and do not disappoint the gaze of my God upon you."

……

On the morning of the fourth day, one hundred "Holy Light Beacons" were finally delivered to the church's underground warehouse thanks to the tireless overtime work of the craftsmen.

Seth stood with his arms crossed at the warehouse entrance, the piety in his eyes long gone—Uriel himself was busy with the "materialization of the god" project deep in the Wayne Forest and had no time to spare.

He watched as the beacons were packed into boxes, and then a cultist jogged over to report: "Holy Prayer, the first squad has been assembled... a total of forty-eight people, eight of whom are your trusted confidants, all equipped with anti-magic weapons."

"Have everyone stay put and wait."

"Understood, Your Holiness," the believer said, jogging away from the warehouse.

Seth took a deep breath, his gaze falling on the pile of wooden crates, his fingertips subtly tracing an inverted cross emblem—of course, he wasn't foolish enough to tamper with the supplies personally selected by Uriel.

So he simply lifted a corner and casually picked up a beacon to examine it closely.

The beacon was no bigger than the palm of my hand, and it seemed to be carved directly from softened anti-magic stone, with tiny "holy relic fragments" embedded in it. It was a specially made arrow with runes.

There was also a putrid stench, just like the smell that emanated when the tomb was excavated in Zelharan... It was utterly disgusting.

"Clean..." Seth exhaled the two words along with his breath, gently tapping the beacon with his fingertips.

The black-robed alchemist who left along the golden trade route... should have arrived at "Root," a fact he concealed from Uriel—a fact that, sometimes, even he himself was unaware of.

Why appoint an insider as the person in charge of "cleaning up"?

Well, I'm sorry, he has other channels...

To make contact with the residents of those "roots".