The old scholar, rumored to have been burned at the stake, is now lying peacefully in a comfortable bed. Although he is thin and sickly, his spirits are surprisingly good.

The old man lying in bed saw the middle-aged man, his eyes lit up, he raised his arm slightly, and his face was filled with uncontrollable joy.

Karin tidied up the herbs and food tray and said to the two people at the door, "His body is still very weak. He cannot talk for long periods of time, and he must not get excited or angry. Please take good care of him."

After saying that, she accompanied the old monk on his house call out and left the room.

Elijah hurried to the bedside, knelt on one knee, and brought his head close to Terence. The image of this old man, once his academic mentor, standing on the podium, pointer in one hand and books in the other, his voice so loud it could be heard a hundred meters away, was still vivid in his mind. Now, however, he lay there, like a drowning person just pulled from the sea, struggling to breathe.

Elijah grasped Terence's right hand with both hands, lowered his head, his body trembled slightly, and he choked with sobs.

Terence turned his head slightly toward the two sorrowful faces, frowned slightly, and said in a very weak but firm voice, "I'm not dead yet! If you want to cry so much, use your tears at my funeral!"

Ulysses gently wiped his eyes with his sleeve, placed a hand on Elijah's shoulder, and whispered, "There is something that Teacher Terence wants you to do."

Elijah took the slip of paper handed to him and slowly unfolded it. He looked closely and saw that the palm-sized piece of paper was covered with names; he roughly counted more than fifty.

“Sandro Botticelli, Delco Potts, Niccolò Machiavelli…” Elijah read these names softly, quickly matching them with faces in his mind. These people were all graduates of the Royal Academy, including poets, painters, writers, musicians, philosophers, sculptors, and architects… But without exception, they were all once students of Master Terence, and were recognized as a group of exceptionally talented individuals.

Terence's arm veins bulged, and he suddenly increased the pressure on his hand, a flame burning in his eyes: "Find them, and don't tell them I'm still alive, just say it was my last wish! Get these people to come to Twilight Town!"

Elijah looked at the old man in surprise and asked instinctively, "Teacher, what do you want to do?"

"War! I'm going to start a war!" Terence struggled to sit up, his eyes like unsheathed blades: "A war to expose the Church's dirty veil and false nature, to revive classical culture and revitalize the arts!"