The First Illustration: Contestants from the Milky Way Galaxy

Temple of Atlantis

Once every millennium, for a span of a hundred years, the selection of the Holy Son and Holy Maiden stands as the grandest event in the Divine Court, watched by all nations of the interstellar world. However, only a few years into this cycle, an unexpected change disrupted the proceedings.

— Order from the High Priest: The current selection of the Holy Son and Holy Maiden will be concluded within ten years, and the list of candidates for the second round will be announced before the next Light Month.

First day of Fire Month

Dormitory for Candidates: The Budding District.

“Announcement: The latest candidate to move in, Sang Hongye, twenty-one years old, Celestial Level Seven, from the Galactic Empire…”

Since the divine edict was issued last month, candidates from all corners of the universe have been arriving daily. The registration office is constantly surrounded by attendants eager for the latest news, ready to relay updates about their masters’ rivals as soon as they emerge.

“The Galactic Empire? Never heard of it. Could it be a newly discovered sub-sector? Twenty-one years old and only Celestial Level Seven—that’s about average for a mid-level civilization. Even with special talents, she poses little threat…”

“I’ve found it. The Galactic Empire is located in the far eastern star group of the Sunflower Sector, in the wild outskirts of the Milky Way. Registered just over two thousand years ago, it’s a low-level civilization, currently Tier Two… Little threat.”

“A primitive from the wild star regions, recommended by Bishop Anthony. Not a seeded candidate, no threat.”

…

Pearl Sea, Palace of Crushed Lotus

The mermaid Bronwyn frowned as she examined the file of the new candidate, Sang Hongye, on her virtual screen.

“Is this the one Lord Anthony brought back? In terms of appearance and strength, she’s not even on par with Helen from the Violet Shell Pavilion. Why would she be chosen as a seed…”

The elderly mermaid, both butler and nanny, replied, “Your Highness, at present, you are the seeded Holy Maiden.”

Bronwyn enlarged the image of Sang Hongye and scoffed, “I’m well aware—this selection was suddenly expedited; there’s no time to train her. That’s why this opportunity was handed to me. A primitive from a Tier Two civilization, what makes Anthony go in person to fetch her? Among the merfolk, even the least impressive, Helen, comes from a Tier Four civilization. Are you saying none have as much potential as her?”

The old mermaid said, “Your Highness, the process matters little; it’s the result that counts. Lord Anthony is one of our kin and is working to expand human support circles. He needs to cultivate a human Holy Maiden, not because you lack in any way. Even if she truly possesses some unique talent or potential to interest him, with no foundation, she’ll never survive the preliminary selection next year; at best, she might become a high priestess. Focus your attention on true rivals, like Shui Ling from the Xian Ancient race—a Tier Seven civilization.”

“Enough chatter.” Bronwyn, still displeased, closed Sang Hongye’s file. “I’m off to practice the Holy Light liturgy. Still, keep a close eye on Sang Hongye—anyone Lord Anthony favors is never simple.”

News of the new candidate spread through the Budding District but was quickly dismissed as no threat—like a stray asteroid stirring a ripple before sinking into the vastness of the starry sea.

Forest of All Beings

Sang Hongye, deemed harmless, was carrying out the final step of her induction as a candidate Holy Maiden—planting a tree.

The seed was a special variety, exclusive to the Budding District. Infused with spiritual will, the seed sprouted and grew at a rate of one meter per second. Within thirty seconds, there stood a great tree, lush and leafy, its branches hung with clusters of black-red fruit.

Her guardian, Senna, accompanied her throughout, overseeing the last of the dormitory arrangements and activating her treehouse privileges. “Is this a tree from your homeland? What’s it called?”

“A mulberry tree. Its leaves feed silkworms, and its fruit—the mulberry—is edible. It’s a common sight where I’m from.” Sang lifted her head to gaze at the tree, marveling at the spatial ripples that lingered among the branches. “Is that all?”

Senna replied, “The inner space is ready. You can use the robotic caretaker to set the interior to a familiar room style, or pick from existing templates.” She checked again, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay or assign you an attendant? If you’re not comfortable with a human, there are also winged folk, aquatic species, beastkin, and even woodfolk. You’re still young. Alone in a strange place, you might feel… lonely.”

One could hardly fault Senna for worrying. Here, humans came of age at one hundred, and some long-lived species didn’t mature until several hundred or even a thousand years. At twenty-one, Sang was still a child.

“No need, I have Little Gold. The support team is just on the way.” Sang patted the small mech perched on her right shoulder, then gestured to the black swallowtail butterfly fluttering around her. “With this robotic caretaker, I’m fine for now.”

Senna did not press further. “Very well. As Teacher Anthony instructed, your wishes come first. I’ll handle the Children’s Protection Agency. The caretaker’s program is all set. Rest now—I’ll come by tomorrow to discuss your future training plan.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

After sending Senna off, Sang touched the tree’s trunk. A green portal of light formed, rippling like a water mirror as she stepped through, entering another space.

“Spatial balance and stability—hardly any sign of artificial manipulation.”

Sang mused to herself. The space was an empty hall, dense with vines climbing the walls, interspersed with large lantern-shaped orange flowers glowing gently with warmth. They were not the only source of light; from the high domed ceiling above, star fruits twinkled among the leaves, swaying in an unfelt breeze, flickering like stars on a summer night.

In the next moment, a ‘star’ sprouted wings, trailing a tail as it circled down to hover before Sang.

“Master, please set your preferred living space.”

The swallowtail butterfly carried a fruit many times its own size, scattering iridescent dust from its wings that formed a virtual screen. On it flashed icons and labels for bedroom, meditation chamber, training room, reception room, and more.

“Little Gold, you choose. I’m giving you top clearance.”

Enchanted by the wondrous laws woven into the space, Sang left the room’s arrangement to the eager Little Gold and closed her eyes, immersing her consciousness in the intersecting spatial laws—analyzing, verifying, absorbing, and transforming them. In a short time, she gained more than she ever had from training with holy fruit.

“Sang, wake up.”

Reluctantly, Sang opened her eyes. The dormitory was now the familiar room she’d known, and Little Gold was calling from the balcony, “There are so many monsters outside!”

Sang went to the balcony to look and was startled by the chaotic scene below.

When choosing this spot for her treehouse, she’d selected an isolated corner with no neighbors—mountains on two sides, a river on the third, and a grassy courtyard in front with a wide view. Now, the courtyard was crowded with all manner of bizarre “creatures”—plants, animals, and sea monsters. The few humanoids present sported beast ears or tails, and some had exaggerated shapes.

“Grandpa Anthony said every species is represented here in the temple. I thought I’d seen enough oddities today during the formalities, but that was just the tip of the iceberg.” Sang pointed out, “Those half-beast, half-human ones are beastkin; some of the wild beasts are their originals, some are just intelligent wild animals. The octopoid is a giant octopus. Those with snake heads or tails are snakemen. Those rooted to the ground are treemen of the woodfolk… and at the back are a few pure-blooded humans.”

Little Gold was excited. “Life in the universe is endlessly diverse. The temple welcomes all sentient beings. Humans are the most numerous, but all the minorities combined outnumber them. They can’t unite, which is why humanity dominates. Even Anthony is an aquatic merman.”

Sang muttered, “Humans aren’t exactly united, either.” She watched for a while, then her attention was drawn to the laws embedded in the window—space, but not quite; mysterious and fascinating.

“Master, you have one hundred and sixty-two letters. Would you like to review them now?” The black butterfly flew over, carrying a metal box several times its size.

Sang leaned her forehead on the windowsill, lost in the wondrous laws, and did not respond.

Little Gold approached the black butterfly. From eavesdropping on the crowd outside, Little Gold had learned that even among the candidates there were ranks, and in their eyes, Sang was a harmless weakling, suitable to be recruited as a follower for stronger candidates.

The invitations fell into three categories: First-class were from the Holy Sons and Maidens, inviting candidates to banquets—thirteen electronic invitations sent via star network for elders to mentor juniors. Second-class were from fellow candidates—forty-five energy-formed invitations, tests or attempts to win her over, delivered by various attendants. Third-class came from Bishop Anthony’s priests, knights, and others—one hundred and four calling cards attached to gifts, as early gestures from those seeking to be future guardian knights or support staff.

Little Gold pressed against Sang’s face. “We agreed to conserve strength, so I’ve declined all the invitations; the calling cards remain. The strongest among them is Peak Sky Level, the weakest Star Level Three. Do you want to look?”

Sang peeled Little Gold off and set him back on her shoulder, her gaze lingering on the window. “No rush. I haven’t even been chosen as Holy Maiden—what’s the point in accepting guardian knights already? We’ll deal with it when the Emperor and the others arrive.”

Little Gold agreed completely. “Right now, those seeking you out only do so for the bishop’s sake, not yours.”

“The temple is under high civilization jurisdiction. Saint-level children, Star-level is basic, Sky-level is everywhere, and only Profound-level counts as an expert.” Sang’s dreamy tone grew firm. “In such an environment, weakness is only temporary. One day, people will seek me out for my own potential.”

Little Gold nodded. “As long as you wish it, I’m sure it will happen. If the outsiders won’t leave, I’ll switch the shield from one-way to two-way.”

“Wait.” Sang smiled, unfurling a scroll. “Help me test if this works on non-humans.”

It was a freehand painting of daffodils: a wild lakeshore, with cranes dancing above a quiet cluster of daffodils—elegant and ethereal, evoking tenderness and protectiveness. Amid the weeds, a small black dot—at first glance just a bit of duckweed, but look closer and a toad sits atop it, gazing up at the dancing cranes.

Little Gold didn’t understand. “‘Daffodils’ is just a practice piece for pranks—its effect is too weak. If you’re probing, why not use your masterpiece ‘Homeland’ from the starship? Even the Emperor couldn’t withstand it.”