Pillar of Yita

”Your Majesty, you must stop the ritual.”

Barbaltan paused slightly, then turned back.

But even with his back to the Crystal Mountain, the green fire in his eyes had yet to fade.

The Desert King seemed somewhat hesitant for a moment—on one side was the minister he trusted, on the other that voice calling to him—chaotic factors tangled in his mind, and for a time they gained the upper hand, making him slowly take a step back and lightly shake his head.

The ritual could not be stopped.

That was Affia’s last hope—

”Of course the ritual cannot be stopped,” Seniman also said with a sinister smile. ”Once it is halted, all previous efforts will be wasted.”

”Where do you intend to go to find another Emerald Star this enormous?”

”Shut up, Seniman!” Ebene shouted in anger.

The latter only smiled without replying, his eyes filled with awe as he looked at this Mountain of Crystal.

This must be what they call a gift—

How much effort had that Queen’s ancestors spent to preserve it intact, guarding this secret for generations. Yet all of that was only for today; this was the might of the Dark Saints, great enough to even deceive the all‑knowing gaze that the Pseudo God Orlin claimed as his own. And this was only a beginning; the world would inevitably return to...

But at this moment Ebene finally came to his senses.

He realized that the King of Sand had also been bewitched by that Mountain of Crystal, and their only remaining hope lay with those few of the Holy Choosers. He immediately shouted to them, ”Kill Seniman, now!”

From the instant Ebene spoke, Ye Hua and the others had already felt that something was wrong.

The young man holding the sword hesitated for a heartbeat, but Ye Hua reacted decisively, drawing his Dagger and plunging it into Seniman’s chest.

The latter let out a miserable scream, clutching his chest as he staggered backward and fell, vomiting a mouthful of blood with a retching sound. But as Seniman collapsed to the ground, one hand pressed to his chest, he let out a ghastly laugh. ”Haha, it’s already too late, everything is already over...”

He swept each person with a burning look. ”Don’t think I’m unaware of your scheme. Self‑righteous fools—Mortals daring to wrestle with the All Saints—is but a dream of phantoms in the end... haha, *cough, cough*...”

The gathered ministers in the hall were like wooden statues, as if they had neither seen nor heard any of this.

Ebene stared at it all, his face filled with horror.

Seniman was clearly on the verge of death, yet the ritual had not ended as he had imagined.

Where exactly was the problem?

The notebook had clearly been left behind by the Queen; besides the King of Sand and the Princess, no one had ever read it. Much less had anyone had the chance to alter what was written in it—

His mind ran wild, and even a terrifying, utterly baseless thought flashed through it—could the Queen have been one of the Blind Followers as well?

But at that very moment—

A clear, crisp voice came from outside the hall:

”Father, please stop the ritual!”

That voice was heard distinctly by everyone in the hall who was still conscious.

They involuntarily looked in that direction, and saw the Little Princess standing there, cradling the wooden carving in her hands, eyes brimming with shimmering tears.

Half sobbing, she pleaded:

”Father, I’m here, I am Affia, have you forgotten me?”

That voice seemed to strike at the heart of the Desert King Barbaltan.

He froze before the Mountain of Crystal, then turned stiffly around. Within his pupils, shrouded in green light, some of that dazed gleam faded a little.

He recognized his own daughter, and it also seemed as though by her side another Phantom had appeared. The girl within that Phantom smiled at him gently, and the meaning within that smile was something only he in this world could interpret.

He slowly turned back to glance at the reflection in the Crystal, and for a moment he could no longer tell which one was truly the love of his life. They were so alike, nearly identical, yet in the Nether there was a voice telling him that if he chose wrongly, he would be damned for all eternity.

He had already lost this world once; he absolutely could not lose it a second time—

He looked at his daughter, then at the reflection within the Crystal, torn between agony and confusion.

Affia bit her lip, tears streaming down without cease. That person had told her that Father would surely respond to her call, so why was he standing there motionless?

Did he no longer love her, no longer love her sister, had he forgotten Mother? Why was he abandoning everyone to carry out that illusory ”plan”? Could a mother who had already left this world truly be more important than every living loved one still in it?

Even if Mother were still in this world, would she be willing to watch her own daughter lose her father as well?

She wept in torrents as these thoughts ran through her mind.

Until a hand pressed down on her shoulder.

Ebene saw a group of people walking in from the hall’s entrance.

Fang Hong, Luo Hao, Xiangzi, Luo Yu, Gita, the Papalarians, Alphonse the Half-Person, and Pasha, who followed behind the group.

Fang Hong quietly laid a hand on the Little Princess’s shoulder and said to her gently, ”Go on, Affia.”

The Little Princess nodded through her tears. She held the wooden carving carefully, her lips moving as if she were brewing the feelings in her heart.

But those feelings finally burst forth, and she spoke, almost a sobbing bundle of tears:

”Father, my sister and I are still waiting for you to come home.”

”We need you, we need a father—”

”Please don’t leave us.”

”I beg you...”

That small, helpless voice was like a sharp arrow, piercing the heart of everyone in the hall.