Dusk City, Sacred Order Arbitration Tribunal, Resident Registration Office.

"My lord, greetings. I've heard that a new royal decree has been issued in the city. Foreign immigrants can now obtain royal residency by farming and paying taxes?"

Monk Joe, who was busy checking farmland registrations and distributing farm tools, said without looking up, "That's right, it's a decree that was just issued a couple of days ago. If needed, you can go to the office..."

Brother Joe suddenly stopped speaking, turned his gaze to the questioner, and after a moment exclaimed incredulously, "I know you! You're the priest from Thousand Wood Village near the monastery, your name is... your name is..."

“Moore Rupert”.

Joe put down the book in his hand and nodded repeatedly: "That's right, that's right! That's the name! I remember when His Holiness the Holy Son was studying at the monastery, he even went to your village to exorcise demons!"

“That’s right, His Holiness the Holy Son performed a miracle there! He saved the two possessed people from the clutches of the demon.” Father Moore’s eyes gleamed as he recalled the past, as if the scene was still vivid in his mind.

Joe laughed heartily as he reached out his right hand to pat the other person's arm.

When he touched Moore's sleeve, his hand froze in mid-air, and his smile froze on his face.

"Where's your left hand?!"

In response to the monk's question, Moore pursed his lips, lowered his head, and slowly said, "It's a long story."

The somewhat oblivious Joe only then realized that the young priest before him was, in terms of age, just over twenty; in terms of status, he had once been a prominent figure in the Western Diocese.

But now, he wears a burlap jacket that smells of chicken droppings and pig urine, his once dark brown hair is now covered with silver strands, and the wrinkles on his face are as deep as the dry earth. The place where his left hand used to be has been replaced by an empty sleeve.

Looking at him, only the clergy cross on his chest was still relatively well preserved.

With the book tucked under his arm, Joe gestured for Father Moore to follow him.

The two walked through the bustling and noisy lobby and entered a relatively quiet meeting room.

He instructed his men to prepare two cups of fruit tea and a plate of snacks. Joe then asked Moore to sit down, while he spread his books on the table and began to chat casually with him.

“Back when I was at the San Sidlow Monastery, I was just an ordinary scribe. I was starving at night, and I was so grateful for the bran cakes you sent me.” Joe touched his bald head and laughed. “Back then, we would catch rats, clean their meat, and put them in bran cakes. In the scribe’s room, that was called ‘a delicacy from heaven.’”

Moore pulled his left sleeve behind his back and laughed along.

Seeing the other person's submissive and respectful expression, Qiao stopped laughing and shook his head imperceptibly: "Moore, tell me your story during this time."

When the past was mentioned, pain and struggle appeared in Moore's eyes.

“When the Silver Ring and the barbarians first formed an alliance, every church was constantly exchanging letters. Everyone was discussing only one thing: what should we do next?” Moore’s eyes were unfocused as he looked at the emptiness on the floor: “After repeated discussions, three paths were laid out before everyone.”

"First, stay. After all, the Silver Ring Kingdom was once a parish of the Heavenly Father, and the kingdom has an obligation to protect its subjects and faith. Besides, the business that generations have built in the village cannot be easily abandoned..."

Moore closed his eyes, trembling slightly. "You should know what happened to these people."

Joe sighed and nodded, saying, "Well, it's not too good."

"Second, head west and join the Kingdom of Twilight. Of course, at that time, the Kingdom of Twilight had not yet been established, and this place was still called Twilight Town. The reason given by the person who proposed this method was that the Knights of Twilight were the last military force in the Western Diocese, and that His Holiness the Holy Son could create miracles and could naturally protect believers. But the opponents emphasized that the Knights of Twilight were in dire need of protection themselves, and that there would be no way out if they fled to the sea."

Qiao straightened up: "As it turns out, this is the right path."

"That's right, but unfortunately most people at the time didn't have a high opinion of the Twilight Knights, and very few were truly willing to head west..."

"The last way?"

After a moment's pause, Moore gripped his trousers tightly with his only remaining right hand, his voice low and menacing: "Head east, to seek the help of the church's reinforcements."

Joe swallowed hard and asked in a low voice, "Didn't the group heading east encounter the church's army in the end?"

“No, we found them.” Moore said, his eyes wide with disbelief. “There are thousands of villages, big and small, on the Moonbrook Plain, and they all share the same idea—to seek the Church’s help. At first, the Church’s army did indeed promise: they guaranteed to send us into the territory of Holy Guard City.”

"Under such guarantees, tens of thousands of civilians accepted the church's army and began to migrate eastward... However, this did not last long. In Watchtower Valley, the barbarian alliance discovered our tracks and sent a large number of troops to follow and attack the migrating people."

"After discovering the enemy's tracks, disputes arose within the Church Alliance, which split into two factions. The army led by the Church abandoned its supplies, used civilians as shields, and fled the battlefield. The majority of the army in Holy Guard City, however, stayed behind and distributed weapons and shields to the people."

His fingernails dug deep into his skin as Moore recounted a horrific massacre in an unusually calm tone: "In my memory, it was the longest day. Tens of thousands of civilians and soldiers crammed into the open space in the middle of the canyon, facing the enemy in front, behind, and even above them in despair. Arrows and stones rained down on the crowd, and blood pooled into lakes, turning the hard earth beneath their feet into bloody mud..."

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