"This version of the Thirteen Lines is finished. Who should I listen to it for?"
"What a pity, the Prophet is not here, so we couldn't hear it immediately!"
What a pity for the prophet!
Because the scout's job was taken away by the prophet, Habaron, having finished his passionate writing and now with nothing to do, wandered aimlessly around the camp.
He leaped up a tree in a few quick steps and stood on the high ground, surveying the entire camp.
A team of two thousand people may not sound like much, but it's certainly not small either; the camp was always bustling with people.
"There are so many people."
There were homeless warriors, impoverished nobles, ordinary people oppressed by the church, and merchants stripped of their wealth...
These people, so different—the noble and the vulgar, the handsome and the ugly, the rich and the poor—could come together.
They lived together, fought together, and worked together.
They followed behind that person.
Habaron can't even remember all the names of many people, but he genuinely likes them.
This group of people came from all over the world. They met on the road and then chose to follow the Prophet.
He himself was once just a circus escapee who ended up on the streets, becoming a thief with some skills. After getting drunk and making a mistake, he was caught and turned into a slave.
If it weren't for the prophet rescuing him, he might still be rotting and stinking in that dungeon, or he might have been bought and enslaved in some mine and died there.
Habaron thanked the Prophet, with immense gratitude.
Not only because he rescued him, but also because he gave himself a future.
A future that we can imagine and dream of.
Everyone who followed the Prophet believed that as long as he walked ahead, they would surely find a sanctuary in this incredibly dark world.
A world free from divine interference, a bright and promising future.
Because they believed this, they chose to follow.
I would give my life for it, without any regrets.
After watching quietly for a while, Habaron stretched, jumped down from the tree, and dashed to Turs's residence.
"Lord Turs! Lord Turs! I have written another poem today, come and listen to it!"
As one of the earliest followers of the Prophet, Turs was one of the most respected members of the group, but the old man was very kind to the others and never showed any arrogance.
"Is it Habaron? Heh, what did you write this time? Come on, let me see."
Just as Habaron had expected, the old man paused for a moment after noticing him, then shook his head helplessly and took the crumpled paper that Habaron handed him.
Turs read quietly, while Habaron, who was standing to the side, suddenly felt nervous. He felt very excited when he wrote, expressing his emotions strongly and speaking his mind directly.
However, when his work was handed over to others, he began to feel a little shy and uneasy.
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Especially when you see the old man's brows furrowing deeper and deeper, it feels like you're standing naked in front of him.
How embarrassing!
His lips moved, and Habaron, unable to contain himself, suddenly turned to Turs and asked, seemingly changing the subject:
"Cough cough!"
"Lord Turs, um, what do you think... well, is everything going smoothly with the Prophet?"
Anyway, let's take a break for now!
"Hehe, you."
Lifting his gaze from the paper, the old man raised his hand and gently patted Habaron's curly hair, smiling helplessly:
"Your poem... is full of sincere and heartfelt emotions; anyone who reads it can feel your feelings."
"Really!?"
Habaron jumped up excitedly, never expecting to receive such a positive evaluation.
"Really, really."
Turs smiled kindly and patted Habaron's hair.
It's brimming with emotion, devoid of any skill or literary flair.
That's well written, but don't write it again next time.
"Next time you can show it directly to the Prophet, so that he can feel your sincere emotions."
If you insist on writing it, then just show it to someone else and stop torturing me.
"As for the Prophet's current situation..."
The old man's eyes were filled with confidence, and that almost blind emotion strongly influenced Habaron, turning his excitement into fervor.
"It's impossible for the Prophet to have an accident!"
"The master will surely return safely, just like before."
"Mmm!"
Nodding excitedly, Habaron and Turs spoke in unison:
"Praise the Prophet!!!"
...
...
"Um?"
Noticing that Ning Feng's faith power had increased slightly, Alice glanced at him curiously, and only looked away after confirming that he did not react.
"Alice, what's wrong?"
Have you noticed any unusual changes in yourself?
After examining his body, Ning Feng shook his head and said with certainty:
"Nothing has changed. Does that mean staying here for a long time will cause changes?"
"Uh, not really. If it were a trip to the stars, that might be possible... cough, if you don't feel anything, then forget it."
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