Chapter 50
Wen Xin was caught off guard when he realized he’d been seen. Holding the little fox, he paused, pretending to scratch his nose to hide his embarrassment.
Before he could gather himself to speak, he saw the person in the red robe sitting in the chair, whose face instantly changed color.
The cardinal rose, and with surprising speed that defied his age, he snapped the lid on the tea canister. He was clearly ready to bolt with his tea.
Immediately, Wen Xin didn’t care about maintaining his composure. Taking long strides, he hurried over and grabbed the tea canister before the red-robed cardinal could.
Unlike others who ran off without a second thought, the cardinal’s first instinct was to grab his tea. Clearly, this tea meant more to him than his own safety.
As expected, when he couldn’t take the canister, the cardinal’s face turned blue with frustration. He was visibly agitated.
“Let go of my tea!” he demanded.
For once, Wen Xin stood firm. “Promise me you won’t run if I let go.”
Without thinking, the cardinal replied, “I promise.”
Wen Xin wasn’t fooled. He knew that if he let go, the cardinal would bolt with the tea.
“Swear it on your Pope or Deity.”
The cardinal was taken aback. This kid was sharp and knew exactly how to get what he wanted.
Seeing no way out, the cardinal looked over at the innocent little fox in Wen Xin’s arms and sighed in resignation. He had calmed down by now. “What do you want from me?”
Once Wen Xin was certain the cardinal wouldn’t run, he removed his hand from the canister.
“I’d like to know more about your faith, the Wei Xin Cult.”
Initially, Wen Xin had been interested in the power dynamics between various factions, but after their encounter, his curiosity shifted slightly.
The cardinal picked up the fallen chair, dusting it off with his hand.
“You don’t seem like the type who’d want to join the Wei Xin Cult,” the cardinal said, meeting Wen Xin’s gaze. “Do you really think I’d reveal our secrets so easily?”
The cardinal’s gaze was sharp and penetrating, aged with wisdom. Wen Xin felt as if he were being seen right through.
He held his ground but had to acknowledge a critical issue—he had nothing of value to exchange for information.
Trading secrets would have been the most effective approach, but Wen Xin couldn’t afford it. His training in the base had kept him away from most outside information. All he knew was related to the military and the training camp.
He couldn’t reveal those details, whether classified or not.
In their previous tense encounter, he could have pointed a gun at the cardinal and made demands. But now, he didn’t have that leverage.
He was in the cult’s territory; it was best to avoid being too bold. After all, they’d been relatively friendly toward him.
The cardinal chuckled, not surprised by Wen Xin’s silence. “Can’t think of anything, can you?”
The little fox looked up, but before it could speak, Wen Xin cleared his throat.
“Actually, I thought of something. I’m not sure if it counts.”
Wen Xin glanced at the cardinal’s tea canister. “Tea cultivation is rare nowadays, but the City A base still grows it, and production is relatively stable.”
“If you’re interested, I can introduce you to a tea vendor when I return.”
The cardinal’s expression didn’t change, but his eyebrow twitched.
“Are you serious?”
Wen Xin nodded. In truth, he didn’t know any tea vendors, but he’d seen fresh tea leaves in Li Yongming’s ancestral home. Apparently, tea was still being grown at the base.
While City A was far from wealthy, growing tea was still prioritized due to high demand from wealthy patrons outside the base. Selling tea brought in resources that helped alleviate hunger at the base.
The cardinal’s interest was piqued. “You know a tea vendor?”
Wen Xin answered confidently, “Yes.”
The cardinal’s mood noticeably improved. “Fine, take a seat. There’s a chair over there.”
Wen Xin fetched a folding chair, sat across from the cardinal, and held the little fox in his arms.
The cardinal asked, “What do you want to know about the Wei Xin Cult?”
Wen Xin adopted a listener’s posture. “I don’t know much about the cult. Why does it exist? What kind of people are in it? I’m curious about it all.”
The cardinal saw through Wen Xin’s intent—he wanted information on the cult’s origin, structure, and events.
Although Wen Xin was probing, he did so sincerely, without making himself seem unpleasant.
Looking at the little fox, the cardinal decided to share a few details that wouldn’t compromise the cult’s secrets.
Through the cardinal’s words, Wen Xin learned about the Wei Xin Cult’s origins.
The cult’s members didn’t necessarily believe in idealism, despite their slogan, “Idealism above all.” The phrase was more of a motto than a true doctrine. In fact, the cardinal was a realist who believed that “wishful thinking won’t fill an empty stomach.”
The true meaning of the cult’s name, “Wei Xin,” was known only to the Pope. It remained an unsolved mystery as to why it wasn’t fully disclosed.
The little fox lifted its head and glanced at Wen Xin, hiding a complicated expression in its eyes.
Wen Xin asked, “Did the Pope receive any divine insight when founding the cult?”
It was unclear to most people outside the cult, but they knew that the Wei Xin Cult had rapidly risen to prominence, establishing a survivor base in just a few days.
The cardinal took a sip of tea and replied slowly, “People were desperate back then, barely holding on.”
The cardinal spoke calmly about the cult’s teachings, lacking the fervor of fanatics.
Wen Xin guessed, “People needed a pillar of faith during that time, and the Wei Xin Cult emerged to fill that role?”
The cardinal shook his head. “Yes, but not entirely.”
“If you tell a person with food that tomorrow will be better, they might believe you. But if you tell a starving person the same, they’ll just spit in your face.”
Wen Xin fell silent, pondering the cardinal’s words.
He thought back to when he encountered the cult’s fanatics who had used incense to numb themselves.
If someone is in constant agony, they may eventually seek relief through substances.
However, Wen Xin quickly dismissed this idea. He noticed that both the cardinal and the other cult members seemed healthy, unlike people who’d been dependent on such substances.
Petting the little fox’s fur, he suddenly asked, “Does the Pope have special abilities to relieve mental suffering?”
The cardinal looked at Wen Xin with a glint of respect. “Indeed.”
In that moment, the cardinal’s expression changed to one of genuine reverence.
The cardinal said sincerely, “When you reach the base, you’ll understand how remarkable the Pope is.”
The little fox twitched its ears. The cardinal looked at Wen Xin, a hint of a warning in his tone.
“When you arrive at City B’s base, keep your head down. Don’t try anything foolish.”
Wen Xin understood the implicit warning: Don’t think of taking anyone away from the base.
The little fox glared at the cardinal with a “yip,” to which the cardinal quickly replied, “It’s just a friendly reminder.”
Wen Xin answered calmly, “I would never do anything like that.”
The cardinal nodded skeptically. “Good.”
The Wei Xin Cult’s members were divided into four ranks: common members, priests, twelve cardinals, three cardinals, and the Pope.
Their clothing indicated their rank. Ordinary members wore plain robes, while priests wore black robes with simple floral emblems. cardinals wore more intricate black robes with a four-petal emblem, and cardinals wore red robes with a five-petal emblem.
Wen Xin guessed, “So, does the Pope wear something with a six-petal flower?”
The cardinal replied, “Of course not. The Pope can wear whatever he wishes.”
Wen Xin was speechless. That was fitting for a Pope.
Having explained the cult’s origin and hierarchy, the cardinal went on to discuss events within the base.
With money worthless, the base operated on a barter system. Items could be exchanged for contribution points or credits, recorded for future use.
Conflicts mainly arose over contribution points.
Wen Xin was surprised. “So no one argues over anything else?”
In other bases, there were often disputes over food, clothing, and shelter.
Seeing Wen Xin’s disbelief, the cardinal simply said, “You’ll understand when you arrive.”
After a week, Wen Xin finally reached City B’s base with the Wei Xin Cult.
The cardinal, having warmed up to Wen Xin, had answered his other questions along the journey.
He explained that the remaining forces in the world were spread across various regions, with each area facing unique challenges and threats.
When City B’s base came into view, Wen Xin felt a surge of relief. He remembered that Tang Qi’s family had been in City B.
If the Wei Xin Cult had established a base here, perhaps they had survived.
The car came to a stop, and the cult members disembarked. Guards had gathered at the gate, waiting to greet them.
Following the cardinal, Wen Xin heard the guards begin to shout, “Welcome, Pope—”
But the cardinal cut them off sharply, “What nonsense! This isn’t a feudal era. Get back to your posts!”
The guards fell silent, confused but compliant.
Upon entering the city, Wen Xin felt an odd sense of calm wash over him, easing the worries he carried about his brother Wen Jingfeng, his teammate Lin Nan, his friend Tang Qi, and the fallen soldiers.
It was as if someone had erased his anxieties with a gentle touch.
Wen Xin looked around and noticed that the people in the city seemed similarly affected. Even the most weary faces carried a glimmer of hope.
It was a rare and precious sight.
The cardinal observed Wen Xin’s reaction and said with a smile, “Now you see, this is the greatness of our Pope.”
The Wei Xin Cult had built a chapel, despite being different from traditional religions. As they entered the grand, white building, Wen Xin’s eyes were drawn to a painting on the wall.
“Is that… your Pope?”
The little fox’s pupils narrowed, following Wen Xin’s gaze.
