This ladder is too long.

There were thousands of hiking steps along the ridge. Wanda Maximov had to support himself with his cane and try to keep up with the emperor's faster and faster steps. It seemed as if the sound of dull explosions came from the bottom of the valley and kept ringing in front of her invisible. The thick smoke of the explosion almost covered all the stellar light that Kama Taj could accept. The more Wanda Maximov walked forward, the more he could feel the despair surging in the sea of ​​ether. Anger and fear shining in the air. Every time she touched the sparkling emotion, she had a sense of satisfaction filled with spirit. The emperor's anger flashed in the air like flames, making the cold wind on the plateau become hot and hot, and even burning her fingers.

She lowered her head and looked at her fingers, and found that it was an illusion, her fingers were still clean and complete.

This is just a metaphor for describing the sea of ​​ether, not a physical phenomenon that exists. Just as people with vision cannot explain the color of the sky to those who are blind when they are born, Wanda Maximov is also using a way that his brain can understand to explain the indefinite and indescribable things he sees. Just like a thousand different readers will come to different conclusions after reading the same work. The sea of ​​ether in each person's eyes is different. The only thing that can be determined is that it is a crazy, dangerous dimension, a chaotic and spiritual-led mirror reflection dimension.

"I can't tell the difference."

She muttered, clenched the snake bone staff and silently recited the Hermes spell to seek inner reality. But she could indeed feel the emperor's anger, because it was real, a physical phenomenon manifested by spiritual diffraction. Her doubts did not last long, and before she stepped on another step, she saw the truth - the ascetic monk with ragged luxurious fabric on his dirty and thin body, and the aromatherapy sprinkled between his hair and beard, walked into the square with a chant of the dedication spell under the guidance of the secret master. They sat on the ground in the middle of the square with a secret mage in black robe.

Wanda Maximov saw that under the robe made of luxurious fabric, the ascetic monks' skinny body was covered with abscesses, herpes and other diseases, and some of their bodies had slightly mutated. These ascetic monks endured the pain of mutation with absolutely firm will. Their only purpose was to give without any reward. At the cost of dedication, their corpses would be burned into inorganic objects and then made into stone bricks, laying in the dungeon of Kamataj. Their bodies and their souls would forever fight against indescribable things that humans could not resist. They are the most devout believers in the continuation of this creed by human principles. Even if they do not fully understand how this creed is achieved, they know that the greatest threat to the continuation of human race transcends time and space, and forever threatens all intelligent races in the universe.

They know that all their sacrifices are for a grand future that may exist.

Immediately afterwards, Wanda Maximov heard two explosions that sounded at the same time.

The first explosion seemed to be sounding in her ears. She could even see the dazzling fire from the hot melt bullet gushing out above her head, and the terrifying heat almost burned her scalp; the second explosion seemed to be coming from a distance, mixed with hot metal and propellant exhaust gas, and the cold and fresh wind on the plateau. She observed the same thing at the same time from different perspectives. This feeling was very novel. She had never sneaked into the sea of ​​collective subconsciousness before. At this moment, she seemed to have sneaked into someone's mind and fully experienced the person's emotions and thoughts, because it was very dangerous.

Now some kind of force protects her mind from the pollution of others' thoughts. It was almost a dream. She was like diving into the deep sea. The water was as green as emeralds. As the diving became deeper, the body of water became like turquoise, and finally it was almost black, dark green like mud. The force was like a deep submersible with a round front porthole, releasing columnar light on the dark seabed. The solid alloy shell was under the pressure of water that mortals could not bear - this was a metaphor. She knew that this was the emperor helping her, so she planned to see more - Kama Taj had many secrets, and the ascetics did not know too much, but she could see why these ascetics came here and became a Kama Taj acolyte.

Because of poverty, war, famine, injustice, superstition.

Not all of these ascetics had received higher education, and they had not even had everything she and Pitro had learned in prison. Their childhood was filled with hunger and ignorance until the Supreme Master pulled them out of the mud and taught them the creed. Their weak talent could not reach the profound wisdom, and their wisdom was not enough to understand too grand goals, so the Supreme Master taught them the only wisdom that could be accepted, the creed that would continue human principles.

They worship this creed like God, worship the supreme master who practices the creed. From their perspective, the supreme master is equivalent to the divine walking in the world. The decree of God requires them to devote everything to maintain the existence of human principles, so they will believe in and fulfill the seemingly nothingness of the creed.

Worship but cannot understand, understand but cannot achieve.

She tasted the black humorous taste at the tip of her tongue, which was as bitter as snow powder polluted by thick smoke.

The countless asceticisms they experienced were just to realize one wish, which was to witness the arrival of the hope that the Supreme Master promised them. So on the night twenty years ago, revelation came. Wanda Maximov saw that the ascetic monks gathered in the square at the foot of the mountain sat on the ground on the snow-covered stone brick floor. The surrounding braziers provided some heat to prevent them from freezing. They threw spices such as myrrh into the brazier, and the pungent smoke stimulated the eyes and noses of the onlookers. Their chanting and praying made foreign tourists living in the surrounding area very curious, and at the same time puzzled the local residents, because that day was not any traditional festival or festival. The locals did not know why these ascetic monks who usually wandered in the streets and alleys and applied their ashes and spices to the skin gathered today.

Wanda Maximov saw tourists not far away lifting their cameras.

The picture in front of her was quickly frozen and finally fell into the hands of a person. The photo was then spent several years in a travel album and was then given to the photographer's friend. The unpacked photo turned yellow and faded in the air, but the scene in front of Wanda Maximov was still frozen on that day.

When the person who obtained the photo passed away, his children sorted out his relics and hung them on a second-hand website for auction. A few days later, the travel album was ordered by a folklore professor who claimed to be from Massachusetts. When the album's current owner, the granddaughter of the person who received the photo album, arrived at the cafe, folklore studies used slender fingers with distinct joints to open the album. The scene in front of Wanda Maximov finally changed and was no longer restricted to a small photo.

This made her feel relieved, and she realized that she had not breathed for more than ten years.

Then she was surprised to find that the person sitting on the other side of the table was the person she knew well.

Her long black hair, like obsidian, bloomed with the glorious eyes of the universe, just as she saw now. She heard the folklorics professor explain the location of each photo with a gentle, charming voice, just as he experienced it himself, and could even tell the scenes and characters nearby when the photo was taken. Over time, the sound gradually dissipated like sinking into the water, just like the woman sitting opposite the coffee table, who was moved by the professor's charm, staring at his fingers and face all the time, and could not concentrate on listening to the details in the words.

"Why are you interested in this album, sir?" the woman, who is a real estate agent, asked in an interesting tone. "You don't look like someone interested in this kind of thing. Is it because you plan to collect relevant information and write texts, or is it because you have an unknown relationship with me in the previous generation?"

Hearing this question, the Folklore professor raised his head and looked her in the eyes.

"Because I'm just here, in this photo." A stray dog ​​squatted on the street. She followed the real estate agent's gaze and watched the stray dog ​​staring at him through the window. "Get out, Chaos Messenger. You don't deserve to have a place in my memory, and this is not the place where you weave secret spells." Then she woke up, as if after a long journey, she also stepped on another level, leaving her own footprints on the thin snow she had never stepped on.

She remembered Cassandra, the Apollo priest in the ancient Greek fables.

As an unbelieved prophet in ancient Greek mythology, when the Greeks distributed trophy at the end of the Battle of Troy, the Trojan women looked at Cassandra in amazement and recalled her prophecy about destruction; but in the face of their tears, Cassandra could only be filled with resentment and mockery, with grief about the destruction of the homeland. Others could not see the horror he saw, could not use the wisdom of mortals to speculate beyond the earth and beyond the vision of galaxies, and the truth told without reservation would be accused of being a madman's whisper, and the sincere suggestions of altruism would be distorted into false lies for selfishness. Wanda Maximov asked himself, was he who stepped on this ladder because he believed in the prophecy of the emperor, or was he his teacher alone and trusted him in great importance?

"I can't tell the difference."

Wanda Maximov muttered, as she looked lost, her body under her crimson leather jacket was covered in hot sweat, and was immediately blown dry by the cold of the plateau with the smell of fuel. She had a fever, and her body moved mechanically, following the footsteps of the guard Amon, continuing to climb the steps.

"Master, I think Ms. Maximov's situation needs attention." Amon frowned and pressed a few small buttons on Wanda Maximov's collar, and the slender energy line began to buzz. "The density of ether here is too high, and it is easy to have adverse reactions. I think turning on the psionic suppressor and modulating it to gear may solve the problem. Now you are much better, Ms. Maximov."

"I……"

She walked mechanically, her eyes blurred, like a baby who opened her eyes for the first time. Then her consciousness subconsciously rushed to the lighthouse in chaos, realizing where she was, who she was, and what she was to do when she came here.

"I understand, teacher."
Chapter completed!