Chapter 98: Prototype Divine Kingdom · Eternal Tree Court

A Madman’s Guide to Traveling the World

The final stroke landed, and he inspected it for a moment.

Then Allenay took the sheet of paper off his sketchpad and handed it forward, placing it in front of Celt.

“Sorry for drawing your portrait without your permission. If you don't mind, please accept it.” His voice was gentle, carrying just the right amount of apology without sounding overly humble.

Celt reached out and took it, looking at the simple lines that formed his likeness on the paper.

A bit too rough, but he was actually quite pleased.

Too rough a style? Isn't this my powerful aesthetics?

Sereia, curious, lowered a tentacle and poked the paper.

But it was just an ordinary sheet. Although there might have been some oddness while Allenay was drawing, once he finished, it was simply a regular sheet and an ordinary sketch.

“I like it very much, thank you.” Celt opened the Travel Guide, flipped to the storage page, and shoved the drawing inside.

Allenay watched this scene without comment.

Storage tools are expensive, but saying a prince couldn't afford one would be laughable.

Celt closed the Travel Guide and casually let it rest on his lap, then looked up at Allenay.

“So, after all that talking, what exactly do you want from me?” Celt didn't want to keep playing riddles; he decided to be direct. “You give information, you give little gifts, but if you don't tell me your reason, I won't feel at ease.”

“Well…” Allenay slowly rose from his chair, “I might not be able to say it plainly.”

He stepped around the chair that separated him from Celt and stood in front of him, slightly turned, facing Celt directly.

Light streaming down from the high windows of the church happened to trace his delicate features, casting a faint shadow on that beautiful face.

“If you truly are willing to cooperate with me, I will take you to a place that's safe enough.”

“But, once you agree, I will establish a Law Contract with you. It will prevent you from telling anyone about what happens today. You will never be able, in any form, to reveal to anyone other than you and me everything that happened today and what we are about to discuss.”

He extended a slender, fair hand.

A pale golden spiritual flame with a trace of purple burned on his palm.

“If you're willing, shake my hand.”

A little black-room clause?

Celt thought for a moment, calmly contacted Samuel, then started a full live-stream.

“Alright, I accept. I will not tell anyone besides you and me about what happens today in any way, including but not limited to hints or leaving information on inanimate objects, or any behavior I can think of.”

Celt proactively refined the Law Contract, then obediently extended his hand. He ignited his own spiritual flame on his palm and grasped Allenay's hand, letting Allenay pull him up.

A pale gold and a white cluster of spiritual flame touched and intermingled.

Where the two flames met, the color shifted into a white-gold gradient.

Celt watched the scene with keen interest.

This was his first time establishing a Law Contract with someone.

A first deserves to be properly experienced.

In an instant, Celt suddenly felt several chains winding around his spirituality.

He couldn't say where exactly the chains were wrapped.

If it was his body, there was no sensation there. If it was his soul, it didn't feel like that either.

The sensation was mystical and indescribable. Celt couldn't find where the chains were even when he tried to examine them.

No wonder official research into Law Contracts barely advanced.

How do you study something you can't even find?

Soon, the feeling of being bound faded. But Celt had a vague sense that he could no longer tell anyone about what had happened today or what was about to happen in any way.

Not even leaving hints.

No matter how powerful he was, he couldn't break it, because the constraint came not only from rules of unknown origin but also from Celt himself.

His spirituality, his body, his fate—all recognized the Law Contract he had spoken and even he himself could not contravene it.

Except...

“Ohhh, here it comes, the classic loophole-finding segment.”

“Hehe, good job, Celt.”

Samuel's voice rang in Celt's head.

The live-stream had not been cut off.

Obviously, Celt had only said he wouldn't tell anyone aside from Allenay and himself, but Samuel clearly wasn't an outsider.

What outsider? There's no outsider.

Samuel is me, I am Samuel.

He held firmly to a one-Samuel principle.

And the Law Contract seemed to accept that behavior, acknowledging that Celt and Samuel were indeed the same person.

Transmitting information to Samuel was like talking to himself in his mind, and not within the restricted scope.

Then he met Allenay's amber-colored eyes.

Holding Allenay's soft, boneless hand, Celt wore an innocent expression.

Allenay looked into his eyes, was silent for two seconds, then lowered his gaze.

“If Miss Sereia doesn't want to leave you for a while, she must also make a Law Contract,” he said softly.

“Okay, no problem.” Celt answered lightly and easily. “I'll have her establish the Law Contract with you right now.”

He infused his spirituality into his voice and began negotiating with Sereia.

Sereia was a bit dazed; Celt had to take some time to explain what a Law Contract was and teach her how to establish one.

Allenay and Celt continued to hold hands, and Allenay watched Celt negotiating with Sereia, thoughts flowing through his eyes.

As the currently known strongest Tuner in this country, he clearly sensed Celt playing a little trick.

He couldn't directly read minds, but he could perceive emotions clearly.

He could even guess the small move Celt had made.

Under Allenay's lowered eyelids, his gaze shifted.

He vividly remembered that Celt had not always been an independent entity, and even now might not be entirely whole.

But he was willing to take a gamble.

Because he sensed in Celt both Royal Blood and the Morning Star; a Law Rhyme influences a person's fate.

Copied from himself, the sensation was more pronounced.

So he was willing to gamble.

If he hadn't known about Celt's Angel of Redemption, he might have bet everything on him.

Allenay lowered his head a fraction, a shadow crossing his face and making that beautiful visage appear slightly somber.

They had waited a long time for this day…

Just as Allenay's thoughts shifted, a translucent, faintly glowing tentacle extended and wound around the spot where Celt and Allenay were holding hands, looping once around each of their wrists.

It didn't bind tightly; its touch felt like water, like jelly but softer and more translucent.

Sereia hadn't ignited a spiritual flame, but she was intrinsically a Soul-Essence Creature; touching her was equivalent to direct contact with her spirituality, no outward display needed.

She repeated the content of the Law Contract using her spirituality.

Thus, the Law Contract among the two humans and a Nether-Floating Jellyfish was established.

A few seconds later, the contract was completed with no obstacles.

But Allenay didn't immediately release his hand.

He continued to hold Celt's hand. His fingers were well-defined and his palm soft—very comfortable to hold.

Celt looked at him oddly.

It was comfortable to be held, indeed, but holding on so long felt a little strange.

So odd…

Celt wasn't opposed, just felt something was off.

Allenay kept his head down; because of the height difference, Celt couldn't clearly see his expression.

“Celt…” Allenay suddenly spoke softly.

“Hmm? What is it?” Celt asked with a face of innocence.

After a two-second pause, Allenay slowly lifted his head, his eyes gleaming faintly, and smiled at Celt.

“I sincerely hope I can trust you.”

His smile was wickedly sweet.

It sent a chill through Celt.

But Celt still answered earnestly: “Of course, you can trust me.”

His golden vertical pupils stared into those amber eyes dotted like a starry sky.

Allenay released his hand, and Sereia also withdrew her tentacle from their wrists.

“Come with me.” Allenay's sketchpad and pen vanished in an instant. He strode forward with long legs toward the front row of priests in the main prayer hall.

Celt followed behind with keen interest, watching the braid that hung down Allenay's back sway as he walked.

Soon the two of them reached Priest Ethen Avalon.

The priest wore the same attire as the last time they had met: a clean white clerical robe and a crown woven from flowers and vines. His androgynous face held a gentle smile.

He sat quietly with an open Harvest Scripture on his lap.

Seeing the two approaching, the priest raised his emerald-green eyes to Allenay and Celt.

He said nothing, having heard their earlier conversation. Though the main hall separated them by a considerable distance, his hearing was slightly better than most.

“Priest, I would like your help.” Allenay bowed slightly to Ethen.

His movement was impeccably graceful, but not servile.

Although a teacher, in everyday interaction there wasn't much difference in status.

Ethen's appearance of being in his twenties made it hard to inspire an instinctive sense of deference.

Allenay briefly explained the situation: they needed an absolutely secure place where no outsider could eavesdrop or observe them.

Priest Ethen listened with a gentle gaze, then nodded.

“Have you considered this carefully?” he asked in a neutral, soft voice.

“Yes.” Allenay nodded lightly. “This is a high-stakes gamble, but I believe I can win.”

“Since you have decided…” Ethen's voice gradually layered with the mixing sounds of many voices.

He raised his left hand, palm up.

Rumble!

A muffled, low thunder seemed to sound.

But none of the surrounding clergy heard that rumble; they continued their routines, paying no attention to the situation here.

Through Celt's eyes, the dim Continuity Church suddenly took on a hint of emerald, as if a filter had been placed over his vision.

Walls, the ceiling above, the nearby pews—all began to unreasonably recede, moving away from this area.

It was as if the space had expanded instantly.

Then shoots and flowers sprouted at their feet.

They burst through the tiles, rapidly growing and blooming.

The next moment, massive trees rose from the ground, tearing through the tiles and pushing up through the church roof.

The floor tiles tore open. For some reason the ground that should have been under the floor was now soil, full of thick roots sprouting from the depths below.

Celt instinctively glanced toward a nearby clergyman and saw him still polishing a candlestick, completely unconcerned.

Despite the huge commotion, he hadn't noticed a thing.

Soon, the floor was replaced by soil dense with flowers and greenery, and tree roots. The surrounding walls and the ceiling vanished.

Those clergy members disappeared; the Continuity Church itself ceased to exist.

The scent of candle wax and incense evaporated and was replaced by the fresh air of a primeval forest.

The church's walls were gone, but Althern Street outside the church had also vanished. Instead, as far as the eye could see, there was forest.

Celt looked around and realized he was standing in an enormous primeval forest. Underfoot was a thriving garden; around him stood towering ancient trees, each trunk seemingly four to five meters wide, exuding the weight of millennia.

Each tree bore a human face.

Some faces had eyes half-closed as if resting; some looked at Celt with gentle expressions; others smiled, serene and blessed.

Not far ahead of him stood a tree larger than any other present.

More accurately, it should be called a treehouse.

Its width alone exceeded that of Samuel's three-story villa. It looked like a hollowed tree converted into a castle with doors and windows.

Countless wooden faces on the trunk fused, overlapped, and intertwined—chaotic yet ordered.

Those faces' eyes sometimes opened, sometimes closed, featuring full facial features and expressions of calm, gentleness, joy, or smiles.

Priest Ethen Avalon had risen from his seat at some point and now stood on the steps before the enormous treehouse, watching Allenay and Celt from above the steps.

Allenay turned to Celt, his gaze gentle, and smiled as he spoke.

“Mr. Celt, welcome to half of my teacher's nascent divine realm. From here on, our conversation will not be noticed by anyone.”

Divine Realm Prototype: Eternal Arboreal Court.