In a remote stretch of the Conquest Sea, far from the main shipping lanes, lay the principal island of the Summer Tree Archipelago. The archipelago consisted of over a dozen islands, scattered closely across the sea. Among them, the main island was vast—almost half the size of a district in Pritt. Within its dense forests, hidden from the open sea, were ancient towns inhabited by the old people known as the Summer Tree. The most striking sight on the island was the colossal tree that towered over a hundred meters tall. Compared to the lower forest canopy, it stood like a crane among chickens—so conspicuous that even during the day it outshone the island’s lighthouse. Beneath this great tree lay the largest settlement on the main island. This hidden town, nestled in the thick forest, was crisscrossed with irregular stone-paved roads. Lining the paths were simple houses—mostly wooden two- or three-story buildings with vines climbing their walls. Some houses were low stone structures made from rough-hewn blocks, their moss-covered walls giving them a timeworn appearance. Modest wooden carvings, mostly abstract depictions of plump-figured women, stood beside the roads. Many house pillars were etched with images of flourishing trees. The entire town exuded a harmonious, natural charm. If not for the tense atmosphere hanging in the air, it could easily have felt like a peaceful paradise. On the stone roads, weeds grew through the cracks between bricks. People in plain, traditional robes came and went—some carrying fruit, others with baskets of fish. Worry showed plainly in their eyes. Here and there, small groups gathered to discuss the latest news in anxious whispers. Some paused in front of the wooden carvings of women and knelt to pray, their expressions uneasy but devout. In one large building within the town, a group of young men gathered around a bonfire for dinner. Their table overflowed with food—grilled fish, fruit, roasted meat, and even strange dough-based foods and liquor. Most of these young men were the same warriors who had participated in the hijacking of the Church’s ships. Under Bahoda’s lead, they drank and feasted heartily. Though laughter and conversation flowed freely among the victors, there was an unspoken heaviness beneath the surface. Each smile carried a shadow of unease. Yet no one broke the celebratory mood by voicing their doubts. At last, the sun dipped completely beneath the distant horizon, and dusk gave way to night on the island. The feast lingered for a while longer, until it drew to a close. As the party wound down, a man who had been drinking in silence the entire evening turned to Bahoda with a furrowed brow and asked. “Bahoda… do you think the Radiance Church will really accept our terms? Will they actually respect our faith?” The question brought a sudden hush to the room. All eyes turned to Bahoda. He paused a moment, then answered quietly. “I don’t know… I can’t say for sure how Radiance will respond. But what I do know is that Summer Tree cannot live without Abundance. We’ve been blessed by the goddess for a thousand years—She is woven into our very being.” “This action of ours… it’s a desperate attempt to grasp a sliver of hope. But as for the outcome… I suggest you all prepare yourselves.” With that, Bahoda left the gathering alone, and the remaining warriors slowly began to disperse as well. After the banquet, the warriors returned home one by one. Exhausted from days of tension and escort duty, most of them collapsed into bed without another word, drifting quickly into sleep. And just as they fell into deep slumber, a hidden mystical force began to stir—reaching them from across the distant sea. Among the sleeping warriors, three suddenly opened their eyes. They rose from their beds, walked slowly to the window, and gazed blankly out into the street. “At last… everyone’s asleep. Time for me to borrow these bodies for a while…” Far away on the mainland, in a hotel room in the city of Telva, Dorothy whispered to herself, still dressed in her nightgown. Using the Marionette Mark embedded in the three warriors during Vania’s healing, she activated them remotely—now under her complete control. With her three living marionettes under full control, Dorothy immediately set them to work. They stepped out of their homes and began patrolling the town beneath the great tree, conducting reconnaissance. With Vania still imprisoned, Dorothy had no other way of gathering intel. These marionettes were now her only means of executing her rescue plan. Although she was sure the Church would also organize a rescue operation, Dorothy wasn’t willing to place all her hopes on them. No matter what happened, her top priority was Vania’s safety. That was Dorothy’s core objective: ensure Vania survived this ordeal. If possible, she would try to protect the other pilgrims too. Deep down, Dorothy did sympathize with the native islanders fighting for religious freedom. She had even considered trying to help them—to keep them from facing the inevitable wrath of the Church afterward. But the more she thought about it, the less she could see a solution. The ideological rift was too deep. She didn’t know how to bridge it. Simply put, Dorothy wanted to save as many lives as she could. But with her current capabilities, she couldn’t influence something so large-scale. Ensuring Vania’s safety would be the bare minimum. Thus, under the cover of night, Dorothy’s three marionettes wandered the streets of Summer Tree Island. They scouted various areas, gathering intel and pinpointing where the pilgrims and Vania were being held. The conclusion, unfortunately, wasn’t good. From the information gathered through different perspectives, Dorothy was able to determine that all the pilgrims from the three ships had already been brought ashore. They had been split into groups and imprisoned at separate locations across the island—deliberately scattered, so the Church couldn’t rescue them all in one strike. These islanders had left ample guards stationed at every location. If even one of the sites were attacked for a rescue, the hostages at the others would very likely be executed. In this kind of setup, even if the Church attempted a rescue, it would be nearly impossible to save everyone at once. A forced assault would almost certainly lead to heavy casualties. Currently, Vania was being held separately in a small hut on a lake in the middle of the island. The location was extremely well-hidden and heavily guarded. If the Church were to launch a forced rescue, the risk of Vania being executed would be extremely high. That hut, surrounded entirely by water and only accessible by boat, was being watched by an unknown number of Water Elementalists. The enemy held a significant terrain advantage. Vania, at present, had no weapon at hand. Dorothy had considered enhancing her remotely for a breakout attempt, but the risk was immense. In the past, Vania had only been able to fight against White Ash rank forces thanks to the power of the Feast Sigil. But Dorothy’s Feast Sigil had already been used up, and without a sword, Vania couldn’t properly utilize her swordsmanship. Escaping from such a heavily guarded, water-locked location under the eyes of a group of Water Elementalists would be extraordinarily difficult. “This is bad... With the way these natives have arranged things, it won’t just be the other pilgrims—even Vania might not make it out. If the Church attempts a rescue, they might not be able to save more than a few people…” After finishing her preliminary reconnaissance, Dorothy frowned slightly in frustration. As things stood, with her main body unable to reach the island, her chances of rescuing Vania safely and successfully were very slim. She didn’t know the exact situation on the Church’s side, but judging from the current circumstances, unless they deployed a Crimson rank powerhouse, it would be very hard for them to rescue everyone. However, most Crimson-rank Beyonders were stationed in major cities to deter large cults, so the chances of one being dispatched here personally were extremely low. Faced with the situation, Dorothy couldn’t help but furrow her brow. From what she had learned so far, Vania was in great danger, and the odds of a direct rescue succeeding were low. She had no knowledge of what the Church was planning and refused to pin her hopes on things she couldn’t control. “Looks like I need to investigate further. Maybe I can uncover some other exploitable clue…” With that in mind, Dorothy commanded her marionettes to continue roaming the town of Summer Tree, searching for anything useful. Since the town was built beneath the massive tree at the heart of the island, she had one of her marionettes move toward the tree. After carefully avoiding detection by the locals, Dorothy’s marionette finally reached the foot of the towering tree. There, Dorothy discovered something unexpected: a vast open-air temple beneath the great tree—it was the island’s central place of worship! At the base of the tree stretched a wide plaza, ringed by tall wooden pillars carved with intricate patterns, like great columns missing their rooftops. In the plaza’s center burned a massive bonfire, and braziers all around lit the area brightly. At the edge of the giant tree stood a towering wooden statue of a goddess, seemingly grown naturally from the earth. The statue depicted a plump-figured female form with a blurred face, cradling something in her arms. At each of the four corners of the plaza stood an altar. The sight stunned Dorothy for a moment. She quickly guided the marionette closer to observe. Through its vision, she could see many islanders coming and going across the square. Even though it was nighttime, a number of them knelt devoutly before the goddess statue in prayer. The perimeter of the temple was also tightly guarded. Dorothy had her marionette carefully enter the temple grounds and begin a more detailed inspection. She examined the vine-like patterns on the columns, then looked closely at the naturally formed goddess statue. The more she saw, the stronger the feeling of familiarity grew. She felt as though she’d seen this kind of thing somewhere before. “Strange… Have I seen something like this before? Did I ever study the faith practiced here on Summer Tree Island?” While pondering, Dorothy guided the puppet to the four corner altars of the temple to investigate them. She observed that the four altars had similar structures but differed in details. Each consisted of a thick wooden pedestal, its base carved with fine designs. The top of each column bore a relief carving—four distinct figures. A bare-chested sailor, feet upon ocean waves, gazing into the distance, an elderly man holding a wooden staff, stirring a cauldron, a hunter with bow and arrow, draped in animal pelts, and a graceful dancer, light on her feet. The altar with the sailor figure had several offerings—fresh, large fish and a basin filled with clear water. Strangely, the water swirled into a tiny vortex despite no external force acting on it. Bright flowers bloomed nearby, and several young people knelt in worship before it. The other three altars, however, were barren—no offerings, no worshippers. Though buds had sprouted around them, none had bloomed. Compared to the goddess statue and the sailor’s altar, the other three felt desolate and abandoned. When Dorothy looked carefully at the four figures, she immediately realized where her sense of familiarity came from. She had seen these images before—in the mystical texts passed down by Adèle’s teacher, Darlene. Among Darlene’s collection of scrolls and in her many handwritten notes, Dorothy had once caught a glimpse of the faith of the Summer Tree Archipelago—this was the worship of the Goddess of Abundance! A belief system suspected to originate from the pre-Afterbirth era of the Chalice pantheon. "So that’s it… So these islanders, just like Adèle’s teacher, are modern remnants of the Abundance faith. No wonder this open-air temple felt so familiar…” In her hotel room, Dorothy murmured thoughtfully as she rubbed her chin. The temple’s overall layout, the design of the goddess statue, the decorative motifs, the four altars—Dorothy had seen descriptions of them all before in Darlene’s notes. Darlene had been born in a remote mountainous region on the fringes of the mainland, and like Summer Tree Island, her homeland preserved traces of the Abundance faith. She had studied her own beliefs deeply and recorded extensive notes on the Abundance faith, including detailed descriptions of temple architecture, aesthetic style, and even daily rituals. Dorothy had once caught glimpses of this belief system through Darlene’s writing—now, she was finally seeing it with her own eyes. “Darlena once wrote that the Abundance faith venerates harmony between humans and nature… There really is that kind of feeling in the streets of Summer Tree Island. I never expected these islanders to worship the Goddess of Abundance. In a way, that also explains where their Tide Path Beyonder powers come from…” As she observed the distant temple scene, clarity bloomed in Dorothy’s heart. Confirming that the islanders’ object of worship was indeed the Goddess of Abundance sparked a new thought in her mind. “Perhaps… this might be worth trying. It’s a bit risky for Vania, sure—but it’s still better than sitting there helplessly as a hostage.” Dorothy mulled over the idea, then, after pacing her room in thought for a moment longer, she opened her magic box and pulled out the Literary Sea Logbook. Flipping it to a particular page, she paused to consider, then picked up her pen and began to write. … East District of Tivian, Soaring Theater. In the Tivian night, the theater’s grand performance was in full swing as always. Cheers and applause echoed through the hall. Like every evening, it was a sleepless night filled with splendor. Backstage, inside a private and luxurious dressing room, Adèle sat before a mirror in a brilliant red dance gown, carefully applying makeup. Suddenly, as if sensing something, her brow lifted. She put down her eyeliner, glanced at her alluring reflection in the mirror, and smiled softly. “Heh… Off traveling for so long, and she finally remembers to write to me.” “But knowing her… it won’t be a greeting—it’ll be another troublesome mystical incident, no doubt…” Still smiling faintly, Adèle reached beneath her vanity and pulled out a magazine. Flipping to a specific page, she found a line of fresh text just beginning to appear. After reading the new message, Adèle touched her chin with interest and whispered with amusement. “A question about my teacher’s homeland faith and its rituals… Heh, what sort of place has our little detective gotten herself into this time?”