Chapter Sixty-Five: Goddess of the Night, Lend Me Your Strength

At dusk, the orange-yellow sun slowly sank, and in the vast sky, the silver moon gradually emerged. The alternation of day and night in this world was a marvel. As far as Xuanlü’s scholars could discern, the sun revolved as expected, yet the moon did not. No matter what methods were employed during the day, the moon could not be observed, nor could any other celestial body. This led Xuanlü’s scientists to question whether a universe truly existed in this world.

During the day, aside from the sun, not a single celestial object could be seen; the entire cosmos was shrouded in darkness. When night arrived, the heavens blossomed with stars, and the silver moon hung high. The sight through telescopes was breathtakingly beautiful, evoking a sense of unreality.

At this moment, the palace courtyard, once a meticulously kept garden, had been leveled and turned into an open space. Xuanlü’s engineering corps had laid out the area, using blocks of high-purity silver with spiritual conductivity to form a circle two hundred meters in radius.

“Aimoya, as you requested, we’ve marked out a circle roughly a thousand paces wide,” an engineer reported.

“So fast?” Aimoya’s expression showed surprise.

No matter how often she witnessed it, she remained astonished by the terrifying efficiency of these black-haired humans. All she needed to do was state a requirement, and they would immediately execute it—often completing the task in record time.

“Next, place all the silver inscribed with the Moonlight Cloister inside the circle and spread it out as evenly as possible. This will increase the efficiency of absorbing moonlight. And has the Hunters’ Guild arrived yet? If they’re late again, they’ll all have their pay docked.”

The production of so much mithril was not something she could manage alone; she needed assistance, preferably from those with relevant experience. The ideal candidates among Xuanlü’s allies were the magicians of the Hunters’ Guild—mercenaries who did their job for pay.

Standing behind her, Qin Le watched Aimoya’s imperious demeanor, his lips twitching with amusement. In private, this troublesome elf was timid as a mouse, vanishing at the slightest hint of danger. Yet, as soon as she had someone backing her, she became insufferably arrogant—truly the personification of the saying “a dog threatens others on its master’s power.”

Just then, a group of magicians in dark robes entered the garden from the far end, led by Roy, president of the Hunters’ Guild.

As the magicians stepped into the garden, their eyes were immediately drawn to the ring of silver at the center. Was all of this mithril?

Their faces betrayed shock and disbelief. Although they’d been notified beforehand, seeing this mountain of mithril with their own eyes was another matter entirely. So much mithril—had they gone and robbed the Church of Holy Light?

Roy approached Qin Le. After a brief, courteous exchange, they got straight to the point.

“President Roy, I hope you can help Aimoya urgently produce a batch of mithril to deal with the ghouls,” Qin Le said, gesturing to the silver ingots rapidly being spread out in the center.

“The total is one thousand kilograms, or, as you call it, ten thousand stones.”

In this world, weights were measured in a straightforward system: the unit’s name had three syllables, which Xuanlü translated as “stone.” One kilogram equaled ten stones here.

Upon hearing this, the magicians behind Roy were dumbfounded, exchanging incredulous whispers. They had long heard that these mysterious, supposedly highborn humans were wealthy, sheltering countless refugees and providing them with fine clothes and three meals a day. But this—this was wealth on the level of legend!

“Of course, it’s not a problem. You’ve given us appropriate compensation. We hunters guarantee on our honor to do everything in our power to complete the task,” Roy replied, suppressing his inner astonishment and striving to remain composed.

“However, I would advise you to use less material. The method proposed by the Duke is simply too wasteful. We may not know what the cultists are plotting, but the king’s health is already improving, and with the Sword of Dawn, they won’t be able to cause much trouble.”

It was the first time he’d seen someone treat such precious material—enough to forge a host of mithril weapons—as mere consumables to save time. Given a year, this cache would become invaluable demon-slaying arms for the guild, saving countless hunters’ lives in the Abyss. Instead, it would be turned into inferior products—capable only of wounding, not eradicating, fiends.

“Moreover, I’ve already notified headquarters; a royal-rank hunter is on the way.”

If possible, Roy would have loved to purchase the materials himself, no matter the cost. With this stockpile, he could not only avoid censure but might even rise higher in the guild.

Qin Le’s eyes flickered, and his guards silently took note of this intelligence. Xuanlü’s ability to control the kingdom’s various factions was owed largely to their information advantage—and their adversaries’ total lack of it.

Qin Le smiled. “Thank you for your concern, President Roy, but for now, we actually need these inferior products more.”

Through a series of experiments on the ghouls, Xuanlü had discovered that these extremely low-grade mithril items had an unexpected advantage: they were perfect for researching the ghouls. They didn’t kill them outright, allowing the creatures time to recover—whereas a true mithril weapon would turn them to black sludge in a single stroke, making dissection impossible.

“I see,” Roy replied, disappointed. Since the request was so firm, he could not insist.

Aimoya strode over and called out, “Enough talk—moonrise is upon us! If we miss this window, the results will be greatly diminished.”

Without delay, Roy turned to his magicians, giving brisk orders. The magicians took their positions around the circle as planned.

Roy knelt and ran his hand over the silver on the ground. Spiritual conduction was acceptable, and the channeling response was fine, but the metal was too stiff, lacking a certain vitality that would affect the final product’s quality.

The other magicians looked pained—such waste! It was nothing short of a crime.

Aimoya, seeing their arrangement, called out, “You’re standing in the wrong places! Don’t you have any basic knowledge?”

The magicians exchanged confused glances with the elven sorceress. Their positions were correct, weren’t they? The formation was circular, coordinating the ambient energy to channel the sacred moonlight into the silver.

President Roy asked humbly, “Then, Miss Elf, where should we stand?”

“My employer’s priority is speed, not quality,” Aimoya replied, conjuring orbs of light in her hands. “If we follow the standard procedure, we won’t finish in time. So I’m going to use a more extreme method.”

She sent the orbs flying into positions around the circle.

“Normally, to make mithril, the sun and moon must be combined. At night, at least two transcendents would maintain positions at moonrise and silver moon, drawing down moonlight and stabilizing it with the Time Domain. At dawn, positions would shift to Dawn and First Sun, channeling sunlight to perfect the blend.”

“That’s how you maximize mithril’s effectiveness. But I won’t be doing that. Everyone, focus on moonrise, silver moon, and time domain only.”

The magicians, who had initially agreed with her, were now utterly bewildered. All focused on moonrise, silver moon, and time domain—wouldn’t that cause an excess of moonlight and an imbalance of yin energy?

Roy’s eyes narrowed. He hazarded a guess: “Miss Elf, are you going to use the Church of Night’s Sole Moon Method?”

Rumor had it the Church of Night had a unique technique, the Sole Moon Method, which could instantly draw down massive quantities of moonlight, potent enough to exorcise demons. But using it to make mithril—he’d never heard of such a thing. And only those blessed by the Goddess of the Night could perform it.

“Exactly. Since you understand, then get into position—or your pay will be docked,” Aimoya replied.

Following her instructions, the magicians rearranged themselves: five at each of the moonrise, silver moon, and time domain positions.

At that moment, the previously hazy moon in the sky came fully into view, a vast silver disc suspended high in the heavens, sacred, cold, and utterly untouched by dust.

Aimoya exhaled softly, stood at the center of the formation, and intoned with an ethereal voice, “Great Goddess of the Night, please lend me a little of your power.”

Then, inwardly, she added, “If you don’t answer in three seconds, I’ll take that as consent.”

What on earth?

Outside the formation, Roy was utterly flummoxed. What kind of worshipper addressed their deity so directly? No honorifics, no recitation of titles—did all members of the Church of Night speak so candidly? “Lend me a little power”—what was this, borrowing money?

Just as Roy began to suspect this elf was a charlatan, the world was suddenly suffused with light.

It was a gentle, white radiance pouring down from the sacred silver moon above. Silvery threads of light, smooth as silk, descended from the sky. The magicians stationed at the three positions felt their hearts sink and unconsciously bowed their heads.