In the end, the cultivators never received the Priest's signal to attack.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. They weren't lacking in courage to report to the Heavenly Father in person, but picking a fight for no reason would make the ending of their report look rather bad.
Besides, in this ghastly place, with neither sky above nor ground below, it was hard to say where they'd be sent after death.
Everyone present had been through the sewer system and the Royal Family's mausoleums. The signs they'd seen along the way had come close to spelling it out, so they'd all made their own guesses. Saying them aloud had merely brought the matter into the open.
And it showed that this kind of unstoppable power had been used in the past, and kept relatively stable for some time.
Most importantly, Kraft's condition proved as much from another angle. After a brief conversation, it was easy to tell that, unlike the crazed and inexplicable Heretics, he showed no obvious change in personality or values, nor any inclination to attack.
Not for now, at least.
Once they realized this, what worried them instead was Green stubbornly clinging to doctrine and insisting on challenging every use of unnatural power.
Fortunately, the Priest was more levelheaded and flexible than they'd expected. He didn't do that. Instead, he led the way in setting down the String-Soaked Crossbow, stepped forward, and offered his hand. He pulled Kraft out of the water and helped him sit on the raised stern.
"How did you do that?"
"Something like inspiration?" Kraft tugged his soaked sleeve back over his wrist. "Like when, for a moment, you and your swordsmanship teacher are of one mind, and you understand how he performed a particular move."
"It's been years since I saw him,