Chapter 162: The Statue of the Whispering Faith
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
In the interstellar era, traditional religions had weakened to the point of insignificance—like the buzz of a mosquito.
During the apocalypse, religious thought had briefly flourished again in human hearts, fueled by the pain and terror of reality. After all, promising a better future was the simplest, easiest lie—yet the hardest to expose. But faith crumbled under the weight of money, force, and survival.
When the Ark Fleet left Earth, it took very few pure religious followers with it. After drifting for over a century, humanity landed on their new home with no professional missionaries among them.
With traditional religion powerless, interstellar humanity had instead created all sorts of strange constructs to serve as metaphysical comfort. Lin Xu had never expected to see a church on Haven, a planet where over 95% of the population were scientists.
The church was built from some special material, its walls seamless and smooth like white jade—bright and spotless, untouched by even a speck of dust. Only the lush rose vines climbing an elliptical stained-glass window at one corner hinted at the church’s age.
The white walls and elliptical windows felt strangely familiar to Lin Xu. He seemed to have seen this scene somewhere, and recently. Although the spired church strongly resembled those of old Earth religions, no crosses adorned the roof or anywhere inside or outside the building. Lin Xu suspected this was another odd invention of interstellar humanity. Until Godric, moving with practiced ease, led Lin Xu through the main entrance.
Inside, the church was unlike any old Earth chapel filled with pews. Instead, three long tables stood for people to sit around.
Beneath the gigantic stained-glass window at the front and on the altar stood a statue that confirmed Lin Xu’s suspicion.
The pure white statue had three heads and six arms. Each face stared wide-eyed in fury, sprouting black goat horns. Its six hands clawed menacingly. Below, eight octopus tentacles writhed, also clawed, carved into cloud shapes beneath them.
For a moment, Lin Xu felt as if he’d returned to an age of primitive witchcraft. Around the statue, many people dressed like tourists took photos.
Noticing Lin Xu’s conflicted expression, Godric explained, “This is the Whispering Church. It holds special permits allowing it to bypass all forms of inspection. Dr. Lin, please follow me.”
Godric led Lin Xu and Chen Jinshan forward. As they neared the altar, he turned down a hallway that hugged the corner walls.
They parted an optical curtain, revealing a small door carved with a bas-relief. It was a simple line drawing of an open eye, with two vertical lines flanking the pupil. Lin Xu recognized the symbol. Godric had a necklace with the same emblem. Ika did too.
Lin Xu had once asked Ika about it. Ika said it was a Haven souvenir, even offering to give his necklace to Lin Xu. But until now, Lin Xu hadn’t seen this “souvenir” symbol anywhere else on Haven.
Then he remembered where he’d seen the Whispering Church’s outer wall before—during a video call with Ika, whose background was exactly that church’s white exterior. Was that kid involved in some cult or pyramid scheme? Now Lin Xu was inside it himself. He followed Godric closely, instincts sharpening.
Blackie and Snowy, held tightly in his arms, sensed his tension and let out low whimpers.
“Yip yip.”
Godric conducted identity verification. When it finished, the white door slid open, and the three stepped into another pristine white room. Rows of benches faced forward, with a few scattered occupants. The atmosphere felt more like a church service. Some clutched necklaces at their chests, seemingly deep in prayer. But the front wall was a single, glowing white surface—no twisted statues this time.
Godric guided them onward. Lin Xu passed a middle-aged man wearing a white lab coat—probably a researcher. The man wasn’t praying but hunched over his terminal, repeatedly scribbling and recalculating. Lin Xu caught a glance. It looked like complex computations.
If the man hadn’t held a necklace between his lips, Lin Xu might have found him more ordinary. What Lin Xu didn’t notice was that as he passed, the man glanced up and locked eyes with him. The moment their gazes met, the man’s expression jolted sharply.
Only after Lin Xu and his companions disappeared through another door did the man close his eyes and bow his head. He muttered softly, “Almighty God, guide me on the path to truth.”
– –
Lin Xu turned into a side room and was met by two familiar faces. One of them belonged to Ika. Ika blinked his large eyes and nodded like an owl. “Hello, Dr. Lin.”
The other was someone Lin Xu had only seen earlier that day—on Haven’s public information screens. It was Larvia Blumer, the current chairman of the Haven Science Ethics Review Committee.
Blumer’s eyes lit up when he saw Lin Xu. He stepped forward, initially extending his hand for a handshake, but halfway through, seemed to think better of it. He retracted his hand awkwardly and followed Ika’s lead. “Hello, Dr. Lin. It’s an honor to meet you.”
He, too, wore a necklace with the same symbol. Godric spoke up. “Dr. Lin, Mr. Blumer is also one of your anonymous guarantors.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Blumer,” Lin Xu responded calmly. Without waiting, he continued, “Mr. Chapman said I could stay here temporarily. I appreciate the help from all of you. However, I’d like to ask one question.”
“Of course,” Blumer said. “We’ll do our best to answer.”
“The god worshiped by the Whispering Church—who is it?”
Blumer and Godric froze momentarily, then exchanged glances, their eyes filled with uncertainty. Godric was the first to speak. “The statue outside is just a joke—to scare off tourists. It’s not the deity we worship.”
He dodged the question, so Lin Xu pressed forward. “You don’t worship a god?”
“Well…”
“Spiritual Monarch,” Ika said suddenly. His eyes met Lin Xu’s, clear and unwavering. “We follow His Grace, the Spiritual Monarch.”
His words broke the deadlock, but also froze Blumer and Godric in place. They had discussed how to handle Lin Xu, but hadn’t reached a conclusion. After all, the Spiritual Monarch had never acknowledged His followers, and they had no idea what Lin Xu’s appearance meant in that context.
Still, seeing that Blumer and Godric weren’t stopping him, Ika tapped a few times on the tablet he carried. A three-dimensional projection appeared in the center of the room. The figure wore a white robe, with sleek black hair falling softly down His back. His expression was gentle—divine, even. And He had Lin Xu’s exact face.
“Dr. Lin,” Ika said reverently, “this is our Spiritual Monarch.”
Lin Xu stared at the hologram, his brow slowly furrowing. “You think… He’s a god?”
On Thales, the mermaid people had also treated the Spiritual Monarch as a special being. He had helped them escape old Earth, build a new planet, and provided them with energy and food. In many ways, He had been godlike.
The mermaids not only respected the Spiritual Monarch, but treated Him with sincere affection. But humans—humans had only seen the Spiritual Monarch once, during the time of the Ark Fleet. And yet, centuries later, some still worshiped an entire civilization as a god?
“Almighty God, guide me on the path to truth,” Blumer whispered again, repeating the doctrine of the Whispering Church. Now that he was face-to-face with Lin Xu for the first time, the polite mask fell away, and a feverish gleam lit up his eyes.
“What exactly do you think I am?” Lin Xu asked coldly. A deeper problem was revealing itself. Ika’s selfless help, Godric’s repeated overtures, and now Blumer and the entire Whispering Church offering support—none of it had truly been for him. It was all for their Spiritual Monarch.
But Lin Xu wasn’t the Spiritual Monarch. And the most devout believers could become the most fanatical destroyers. The Whispering Church seemed to wield enormous and unpredictable power. Chen Jinshan and Godric had mentioned that some within the Union had been looking forward to Lin Xu’s arrival. But Lin Xu didn’t know anyone in the Union.
Was it possible they also believed—or hoped—that he was the Spiritual Monarch?
“You’re His Grace’s incarnation,” Blumer answered, eyes shining. Lin Xu’s chest tightened, a deep unease settling in. His irritation grew. Everything was veering wildly off-course from his calculations. Originally, the hidden history of the Imperial era he possessed was meant to serve as leverage—something he could use to negotiate with the Union and secure their support.
Now, instead, he was suddenly surrounded by a group of people who worshiped the Spiritual Monarch as a god—and saw him as that god incarnate—offering their loyalty and resources unconditionally.
Cold interests were dangerous, but at least predictable. Hot devotion… was volatile—and often uncontrollable. Lin Xu realized he couldn’t let these believers’ delusions fester into a ticking time bomb. He had to address this—now, directly, and without the slightest hint of a lie.
He looked at the three people in the room and said, “I’m not the Spiritual Monarch.”
“You are!” Ika exclaimed. “I’ve seen the Spiritual Monarch, and I’ve seen you. Maybe you exist in different forms, but you are the same.”
“You’ve seen Him?” Lin Xu asked.
“After the ‘Dark Incident’ in the Solar System,” Ika said, eyes wide with certainty, “the Spiritual Monarch appeared near you. I saw Him in the overlapping fields of Yan particles and Ye waves.”
“Wait.” Godric cut in before the conversation could go further. He turned to Lin Xu, voice tight. “Dr. Lin… you know of the Spiritual Monarch’s existence? You remember everything?”
Until now, they had believed Lin Xu was the embodiment of the Spiritual Monarch, but that he retained no memory of it—because the Spiritual Monarch had chosen to experience human life authentically.
“Yes,” Lin Xu replied calmly. “I know what the Spiritual Monarch is, and how it came to be. It’s not a god. It’s a collective human consciousness, formed within a spirit-realm built from Yan particles and Ye wave structures.
“Three thousand years ago, after the Ark Fleet left old Earth, a group of humans who stayed behind developed consciousness-uploading technology. They abandoned their physical forms and merged into a unified mind, acting in the universe through the identity and image of the Spiritual Monarch.”
Lin Xu paused briefly, glancing toward Chen Jinshan, then continued slowly, “I come from ancient Earth, from three thousand years ago. If the Spiritual Monarch resembles me in mind or appearance, it’s only because my consciousness model and physical likeness were used as the foundation for that unified entity.
“I left Earth before the Ark Fleet fled. I traveled through time and ended up in the Marion Empire. Everything the Spiritual Monarch did after its creation has nothing to do with me. I am not the Spiritual Monarch.”
“So the Spiritual Monarch is you,” Ika said with quiet intensity. While Chen Jinshan was still reeling from the revelation that Lin Xu came from three millennia in the past, Ika had already drawn his conclusion. He stared at Lin Xu, unwavering, no amount of denial or doubt on Lin Xu’s face was able to shake him. Lin Xu couldn’t understand Ika’s stubborn belief. All he could do was press, “Why do you believe in the Spiritual Monarch? What truth does He offer?”
The Whispering Church wasn’t like the mermaid tribes on Thales. For them, the Spiritual Monarch’s power was tangible—visible and felt every day. But the Whispering Church’s followers had nothing but a vague symbol from history. What could that symbol possibly give them?
The Spiritual Monarch had once helped the humans aboard the Ark Fleet—but it was a fleeting act, a moment of interest. He had never promised them a bright future or an eternal paradise.
“Dr. Lin, Colonel Chen,” Blumer stepped back, gesturing toward the leather sofas behind him. “Please, sit down. There’s no need for us to speak with such tension.”
Lin Xu hesitated, but then cautiously sat, his eyes still locked suspiciously on Blumer. Instead of answering the question directly, Blumer turned to the window, reached out, and pushed open the opaque white glass. Fresh wind and blue sky flooded in. Roses spilled from the window frame, swaying gently in the breeze.
Blackie and Snowy, stirred by the scent of flowers and the rush of air, rose in Lin Xu’s arms and placed their paws on his shoulder, letting out soft chirps. The gentle wind eased the heavy, stifling atmosphere of the enclosed room.
“Dr. Lin,” Blumer said, standing by the window, “Haven is humanity’s frontier of scientific advancement. The Whispering Church is rooted here. Some of our members serve in the Union as well—most of them scientists.”
Beyond the rose branches and leafy woods, the outlines of various laboratories and research centers stood out across the tech park.
“I understand,” Blumer continued with a mild smile. “You probably think we’re just a cult.”
He was middle-aged, with an air of scholarly wisdom. Years of political work on Haven had lent him a humble authority.
“Godric is fond of studying old Earth’s mythology. He’s spoken to me about early human… ‘superstitions.’
“But the Whispering Church is different. We don’t ask the Spiritual Monarch for anything. We don’t expect miracles—though I ask your forgiveness for using that word. We fully understand He is a civilization, not a deity wrapped in myth.
“We simply need the existence of such a being—to prove that the future of science and the ultimate truth are real and attainable. The knowledge the Spiritual Monarch left for the Ark Fleet has benefited humanity for millennia. It shows us we’re heading in the right direction—not falling blindly into some abyss.”
“If that’s true,” Lin Xu asked, “then why come to me?”
“We couldn’t help it,” Blumer admitted. “Contacting you wasn’t the most rational decision. Please forgive us. And please don’t worry—we’re not asking anything from you. If we can help you in any way, that would be our fortune.”
Brumer arranged rooms for Lin Xu and Chen Jinshan inside the Whispering Chapel. He had no contact with the Alliance, and the rest would be handled by Godric. Brumer said the Church of Whispers would do everything in its power to provide resources for Lin Xu.
Lin Xu quickly realized that telling the truth wouldn’t change these people’s beliefs. Because Ika was more familiar with Lin Xu, Brumer had him give Lin Xu a tour of the chapel’s interior. But learning Ika’s other identity left Lin Xu silent the entire way.
Ika wasn’t good at making small talk either. He just kept his eyes on the rabbit-cats in Lin Xu’s arms.
“Ika.” When they reached the door to Lin Xu’s room, and the two of them were alone in the quiet space, Lin Xu stopped walking and turned to face him. “You see me as the Spiritual Monarch. But I’m not Them. You understand that, don’t you?”
Unlike the slick, experienced Brumer and Godric, Ika was unusually clever—but also unusually sincere. He was always straightforward in his interactions with others. Lin Xu found it easier to believe what he said.
“Mm.” Ika nodded like a woodpecker. “But you are the Spiritual Monarch.” Lin Xu felt speechless at his stubbornness.
Ika blinked. “Dr. Lin, a way of thinking is far more important than the technology itself. That’s what we’ve gained from you, from the Spiritual Monarch—not anything else.”
He picked up the pendant around his neck and held it out to Lin Xu. “See? This necklace is called the Path of Truth.”
Ika mimicked the gesture of the necklace, pressing his index fingers against his closed eyelids, then opened his eyes again and looked at Lin Xu.
“It’s not about what you can see with your eyes. It’s about what still flows within your soul when your eyes are closed. Not formulas made manifest, but the very proof of the truth’s existence—and the awareness to seek it.”
He said it with complete seriousness. The Church of Whispers had created a god for themselves out of a figure in history and myth—devoutly believing in that image and using it to explain everything.
Science offered no teleology, no promises about the future, and even value itself was left suspended. The followers of the Church searched for science’s purpose within that god, casting aside morality or utility, and used the Spiritual Monarch’s existence to justify science’s meaning.
It had never been about truth. And so, the truth could never destroy it. Lin Xu gave up. He couldn’t change the Church of Whispers. But at least for now, these believers each had their own lives and jobs. They didn’t seem especially dangerous—and it might be possible to cautiously make use of the resources they offered.
“Dr. Lin.”
“Mm?” Lin Xu looked back at Ika.
“Can I…” Ika asked, “Can I pet your rabbit-cat?”
– –
A burst of bright light pulled Arnold out of unconsciousness. At first, his vision was hazy—only dark, shifting shapes moving around in front of him.
His throat burned like fire. Gradually, he could hear voices. They were rough, laced with heavy accents and vulgar language. His mind began to clear, and he remembered—he’d been ambushed by a mercenary group. He’d been piloting a mecha, carrying Yuanxiao’s egg, trying to break through the encirclement. But a powerful explosion had knocked him out cold.
He… wasn’t dead. Where the hell was he? What happened after the explosion—what about Yuanxiao!?
Arnold shot upright. The sudden motion seemed to tug on a web of wires, startling the people clustered around him. They all yelped. The air reeked of machine oil, antiseptic, blood, and the chaotic tangle of alpha pheromones and hormones—all of it assaulting Arnold’s nerves.
This definitely wasn’t the Legion. “Who are you people?! Where’s my egg? Where is it?!”
A loud laugh erupted next to him. “Ha! You wake up and the first thing you ask about is your egg? Your leg’s gone up to your thigh, but your egg’s just fine!”
Author’s note:
Look how chunky this chapter is!
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