Chapter 133

"How did you grow up?" Jeanne heard a deep question coming from her chest.

"I don't know," Jeanne said with a smile, her eyes crinkling. "It's just this big."

Hebe groaned twice in pain.

"Okay." Hebe struggled to pull his head out from in front of Jeanne.

She stood on tiptoe, her face raised. "I don't like you... because you're always so rigid, stubborn, and you ruin my plans!"

Hebe stared wide-eyed. "There are so many things I don't even want to talk about... It's so annoying, so infuriating."

"But...sigh," Hebe sighed, "Am I not the same kind of person in your eyes? Since I get annoyed by your way of doing things, you must feel the same way. Can our relationship really be called 'like' or 'love'?"

With a strength she didn't know she possessed, Hebe opened Jeanne's arm, pulled her back, and led her to sit down on the grass.

Hebe turned around and held Jeanne's hand, their fingers interlocked.

"Jeanne, I'm sometimes too clear-headed...and sometimes that must be really annoying," Hebe said. "But I still have to say, our relationship isn't even about love; what probably binds us together is the 'hate' of disappointment."

No, that's not true.

Joan of Arc thought to herself, "We've known each other for a very, very long time."

But when she unconsciously followed Hebe's words and began to think, she suddenly realized that it was true: whether in her "past life" or "present life", it was no longer clear whether the love or hate between herself and the Pure Water Spirit named Ismara was greater.

"Now, please think carefully before you answer." Hebe smiled wryly. "Jeanne, after I've told you all this, do you still retain the 'like' you had at the beginning?"

In Hebe's view, it was more like something that was blurted out without careful consideration.

She didn't want the relationship between the Opposing Blades to be clouded and dulled by this hazy feeling.

After Hebe said those words, she couldn't say she felt particularly bad, but a strange feeling welled up from deep within her body, numbing her internal organs and gradually emptying her mind, like a fish being slowly drained of blood on a chopping board.

Hebe pursed her lips, waiting for Joan of Arc's answer.

After a brief silence, she heard the Maid of Orléans before her answer.

"I've thought about it, Ishtar."

Jeanne lowered her eyelids. "I don't really like you that much... because there are things about you that I can't accept, but I don't want to say much about it—we decided to put this issue aside after Nero's death."

"There is no absolute equality between us. There must be some things where we have to determine who is superior. It's like a battle of conquest and being conquered."

"Also, I disagree with what you said before," Jeanne said. "Why do we have to distinguish between love and hate so clearly? Sometimes I can't tell whether I'm jealous of you or longing for you, but in any case, I want to stand by your side."

"I'm not sure what to call it, and I don't want to define it. You know I haven't read many books..." Jeanne sniffed. "But I've figured it out now. Even if I don't like you 'that' much, I still like you."

She stood up and wiped her eyes.

Jeanne transformed once again into the valiant Joan of Arc.

"I'm sorry, Ishtar, I talked some unrealistic nonsense today." Joan of Arc nodded to Hebe. "I still need to train the soldiers. We'll be heading south in three days. Don't forget to take care of the government affairs either. Now is not the time to rest."

Joan of Arc quickly left.

Hebe lowered her eyelids; the feeling that had made her feel like she was about to float away was now gone. She felt her body falling endlessly, a feeling that wasn't exactly painful, but rather disorienting.

The girl lowered her head and looked at her palm.

"I don't understand," Hebe murmured.

She suddenly remembered something and reached for the wooden stick behind her waist. "Miss Medea, you heard everything just now, didn't you?"

"What did you hear?"

"My conversation with Joan of Arc of Arc".

"What conversation?"

Hebe was relieved and put the stick back on her waist. However, before she could even remove her hand from the stick, Medea's voice rang out quietly.

"I don't know who Joan of Arc is, but I think your performance was quite poor," Medea said. "What do you take love for? If you have to break everything down into its smallest detail, what's the point of all this?"

Hebe's face turned fierce as he pulled the wooden stick out again and gripped it in his palm.

"You still claim you didn't hear anything!"

"I'm very weak right now, and most of the time I really can't hear anything," Medea replied. "Even you need to hold the stick for me to communicate... let alone your conversation with Joan of Arc of Arc."

"I didn't hear your conversation, but your thoughts were so strong that I heard them very clearly."

"What are you hesitating about? What are you worrying about? What are you considering?"

"There's an old saying in Cathay: 'Go for it, don't overthink it,'" Medea said unhappily. "If I were you, I'd just rush up and pin Joan of Arc of Arc to the ground, and do this and that—"

"You're kidding me!" Hebe exclaimed angrily.

The love-obsessed witch even came to give me pointers.

When did this proverb originate in Cathay?

"Instructing others is insufficient, but instructing you is more than enough," Medea sneered. "What you lack right now is initiative... Think about what you most want to do for the other person?"

"And then?" Hebe asked.

"Then just do it!" Medea said, exasperated. "I'm so impatient with you. How can you be such a blockhead! Your predecessors would take the bait the day they set their sights on someone."

"You have insulted the reputation of Narcissus for five thousand years! I demand that you correct yourself immediately!" Medea declared righteously. "Repent!"

Hebe laughed in exasperation.

It's because of your way of doing things that Pure Water Spirit has been stigmatized!

She figured it out.

Medea was a troublemaker; freed from the constraints of her duties, she couldn't wait to see some fun.

But Medea is right about one thing... Hebe does have something she wants to do for Joan of Arc.

And it was extremely urgent.

205 Dongfeng

The matter is that Joan of Arc's life is nearing its end.

She used her remaining achievements as fuel and everything she had as a spark to ignite a path that would inevitably lead to her death.

Fortunately, ironically, those who are ascended under the Great Ritual: The Opposing Blades are often not born on the same day, but they can easily die on the same day.

What's even more hellish is that Hebe could have died even faster than Joan of Arc.

"Never one of the Ascended beings who formed a pair of Opposing Blades has ever survived unscathed after the ritual was broken," Hebe thought to himself. "Perhaps Jeanne could be the first."

The Opposing Blades is an ironclad rule based on the Power Struggle between two rulers and is one of the Great Ritual that maintain the operation of the world.

Once Ascended become Opposing Blades, it means they become soldiers under two rulers, and even death cannot separate them... Furthermore, neither Scar Father nor Remnant Wolf will easily allow their warriors to escape their duties.

However, Hebe astutely spotted a turning point: the "August Archon" was about to change hands.

If Private Helius becomes the new August Archon, then the Ritual of the Opposing Blades will also change.

The power of the Celestial Flint is overwhelming, so all apprentices who practice mysticism are powerless against the violence of modern industry—firearms.

The Holy Grail creates life Holy Grail delights in sacrifice; therefore, all life possesses the nature of self-sacrifice and mutual salvation.

Both the Messiah and the pearl, guided by the Holy Grail, became rulers, thus adding spiritual brilliance to the sacrifice.

Mr. Day illuminates the darkness, which is why all the apprentices yearn to Dream Entry into the Wasteland and to climb to higher places.

The Duke of Sighs does not remember all the deceased; therefore, by calling the deceased by their name, one can briefly recall them to the present world through ritual.

All of these are the results of top-down governance influencing the laws of the world... Even if those in high positions do not deliberately do something, the profound traces they have left in the world will cause those who follow them to gradually go astray.

The August Archon of the past was a brutal, cruel, and savage wolf. It symbolized all irrational forces, revealed the destructive power of war, and demonstrated the inherent self-destructive tendency of life.

But He was also the driving force that propelled the times forward—the Central Plains of Cathay was twice invaded by foreign tribes symbolizing "barbarism," and these foreign tribes were quickly assimilated by the more civilized Central Plains. Through sacrifice and bloodshed, the world progressed.

That is why even Celestial Flint was helpless against Can Lang.

The more war there is, the stronger the Golden Truth of the Wolf becomes... unless the Golden Truth of the Private surpasses Him in every aspect.

"Just as he believes in me," Hebe murmured, "I believe in him too."

Hebe's compilation of the secret history from scratch required Closed Loop.

Of course, Eris doesn't need Closed Loop; He prefers confusion.

"Closed Loop and confusion are the biggest differences between me and Eris." This was a conclusion that Hebe Eastern Lostbelt.

Of the current Twelve Archons, the origins and histories of all but the May Archon (Messiah) have been obscured.

This is not the first time Hebe has compiled a secret history and carried out Closed Loop operation.

In Egyptian lands, she once Closed Loop of Duke of Sighs's past, present, and future, the key to which was that Tutankhamun acknowledged the history after the Closed Loop.

Tutankhamun was a disciple of the March Archon Raven.

Hebe even suspected that he was originally the Eternals from the Wasteland, but was sent down from the Wasteland by order of the March Archon.

In the Egyptian Lostbelt, the September Archon, Celestial Flint, also relied on the King of Sheep to exert his power.

In other words, Hebe's historical reconstruction was supported by at least three rulers: Raven, Celestial Flint, and Duke of Sighs.

This time, the soldiers trusted Hebe even more than they had Duke of Sighs before. After all, the Duke of Sighs's first reincarnation was actually achieved with the help of Eris's power; in other words, he was betting on both sides.

But the private did not do that; he directly released his origin history, allowing Hebe to Closed Loop.

If this doesn't qualify as goodwill... Hebe doesn't know what goodwill truly is.

Therefore, Hebe believed that the private would come to her aid at some point; she also believed that with the private's help, she could free Jeanne, who was burning herself out of this contradictory spiral.

[Current Lostbelt Completion Rate: 70%]

Everything will be alright, everything will surely be in order, she thought.

The magnificent setting sun in the distance gradually disappeared.

Then night fell.

The gentle tides visit the mudflats of Heracles Island, and the damp sea breeze pushes the clouds, obscuring the bright moon that shines like a pearl.

Hebe stood in the shadow cast by the Wanghai Cliff, her feet intimately touching the surface of the water. The cool seawater washed over her feet, and the entire body of water seemed to turn into a soft gel, lifting her body up.

She will head south under the cover of night, aiming to conquer the Lostbelt as quickly as possible before Joan of Arc can react.

After numerous battles, Domremy Island was deserted. Hebe walked quietly along the forest path, past the overgrown square, the half-collapsed houses, and the ruins of the clock tower.

"You like me? You're out of luck."

When Hebe said this, she tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth turned down involuntarily.

She knew her smile must look worse than her tears, but honestly, she had long forgotten what it felt like to cry.

Hebe sighed and rubbed her face with her hands.

She was about to continue walking when her body suddenly stiffened.

The foot that had already taken half a step back retracted and remained rooted to the spot.

In the dark and windy night, a terrifying buzzing sound rang out, and a dark shadow could be vaguely seen.

It's like a great whale swimming in the sea.

Above Domremy, a club-shaped black shadow broke through the clouds and landed in front of Hebe in an instant, slamming into the ground.

Its speed and power as it traveled through the clouds were terrifying, but when it landed, it was completely silent except for that one loud thud.

This was Joan of Arc's banner that she used to lead her army, but it could also be a spear.

Most of the time it serves the former function.

However, at this moment, the latter power began to manifest before Hebe's eyes.

This spear, which had broken through the clouds from overseas, had an extremely long shaft. When it landed on the ground, it was much taller than Hebe's body. The spear was jet black, with a dull luster, and was perfectly straight without any bends. Its surface was completely smooth and unadorned.

The flag was rolled up about a third of the way down the gun barrel.

This must be Joan of Arc's hidden trump card.

Hebe waited quietly—now that the gun had arrived, the person should have arrived as well.

If this shot were used on the battlefield, it could absolutely kill Nero head-on, because it was too fast, even exceeding the reaction limit of a daytime rank... Yes, this shot has the flavor of "merit".

Hebe inexplicably recalled seeing rockets carried into space by fiery clouds on television screens in his previous life; or intercontinental ballistic missiles that crossed two continents and millions of miles apart to blast their targets to pieces.