Chapter 24: Whispers of the Red-Clothed Apostle

An He looked up at Lady Heli, her heart skipping a beat.

She saw the woman smiling, her lips stretching into a grotesque angle that pushed the limits of human possibility without stopping, the grin expanding endlessly as if pulled by mycelium threads all the way to her ears.

Noticing An He’s gaze, Lady Heli tilted her head slightly, their eyes meeting for a second—then locking on.

An He’s mind buzzed with a deafening ring, as if she glimpsed the red pupils of death hovering behind Lady Heli. Chaotic, delirious mutterings burrowed into her brain like mycelium, paralyzing her.

But in the span of a breath, all the sounds receded like the tide. An He suspected she’d imagined it.

Nothing was clear in the darkness; the brain’s processing of images could exaggerate endlessly, even affecting her hearing with fleeting auditory hallucinations. When she listened carefully, there was nothing. Her temples throbbed, and her vigilance wouldn’t allow even the slightest relaxation.

Suddenly, Lady Heli bent down.

Veins bulged on An He’s neck. If the woman made any abnormal move, she would draw her knife.

In the instant she could no longer hold back, the woman reached past An He’s head and flipped the switch on the wall behind her.

Click.

With a couple of flicks, the room’s lights blazed to life.

The sudden brightness stung her eyes, forcing An He to blink. She immediately looked up at Lady Heli and realized the woman wasn’t smiling at all—her face was as serene as during her prayer, save for those bloodshot eyes betraying her illness.

The warm yellow light fell on the woman, revealing just an ordinary middle-aged lady standing there.

A hallucination?

An He was drenched in cold sweat—first from that eerie moment, second from nearly killing someone.

Lady Heli hadn’t noticed An He’s movements. Steadying herself, she casually complained, “Lola, could you check with the Thorn Lamp? The voltage in the West District is always unstable during peak hours.”

“Our logistics team is already handling it,” Lola replied, utterly oblivious to the weirdness that had just occurred. She even glanced curiously at the sweat beading on An He’s forehead, wondering—What’s wrong with you?

An He quietly sheathed her military knife, ignoring Lola as she remained tense in her chair, her mind racing.

Hadn’t Ide warned her not to interact with Church followers, saying symptoms would worsen if she did?

An He had thought it was just Ide scaring her offhand. Could it actually be true?

Had she just hallucinated sounds and visions?

An He couldn’t dismiss her own senses. Staring at Lady Heli, she asked, “Lady, did you feel any discomfort just now?”

“No,” Lady Heli replied, puzzled. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Suspicion brewed in An He’s heart, but Lady Heli showed no signs of pretense. An He decided to set it aside for now and probe about the Red-Clothed Apostle.

With a blank expression, she repeated the prayer: “The Red-Clothed Apostle who wanders dreams…”

Before she finished, light sparked in Lady Heli’s eyes. She became vibrant and full of energy, reaching out as if to grab An He’s hands—only for An He to subtly dodge.

Undeterred, the lady exclaimed loudly, “Friend, do you believe too?”

An He breathed a sigh of relief. So the woman was just confirming a fellow believer.

She didn’t believe, but An He held her tongue. She needed to use this to extract some clues. “Lady, have you dreamed of the Red-Clothed Apostle?”

That Gu Xianqing really sneaks into everyone’s dreams.

“Oh, merciful Lord.” Lady Heli clasped her hands over her chest with mild regret. “I haven’t earned the right to dream of the Red-Clothed Apostle yet—that’s my prayer. I’m still in the atonement phase. Look, my body is being purified.”

She pulled down her old scarf, revealing tiny red rashes covering her neck like meridians snaking up along her carotid artery. In a few more days, they’d likely creep across her face.

“I thought you’d seen it,” An He feigned humble curiosity.

Lady Heli patiently explained, “The Red-Clothed Apostle is God’s emissary. Though all clerics wielding divine authority wear red robes, legend says only the highest Apostles can wander dreams. Dreaming of one means you’ve been chosen by God. I haven’t been so blessed.”

Such a coincidence?

An He narrowed her eyes. Red clothes, dreams—they all tied back to Gu Xianqing.

Intrigued by An He’s probing, Lady Heli took a keen interest in her. Studying An He’s face, she recalled, “I saw you on Heidi’s truck. You’ve joined the Thorn Lamp now, right?”

“Yes, Lady.” An He answered patiently. Clearly, Lady Heli was unaware Lola had used her before.

“May I sit beside you then? Warriors blessed with grace aren’t affected by divine punishment.”

Lady Heli’s kindness shone through. Only after confirming the fungus wouldn’t impact An He did she sit next to her, smiling warmly as she took An He’s hand.

This time, An He didn’t pull away.

An He noted her wording: “warriors blessed with grace.” Worshiping the Thorn Lamp and the Church weren’t at odds; through the lens of “God’s grace,” they even revered Thorn Lamp members more than ordinary folk.

A serendipitous alignment.

“What’s your name?” Lady Heli asked warmly.

“An He.”

“An He.” Lady Heli smiled naturally. “If you have time, join our worship services. Those graced by God should give thanks… uh, I can’t go out now, but I can introduce a cleric to guide you.”

An He felt a bit awkward—Lady Heli was enthusiastically promoting it!

Lola interrupted, “Enough, Lady. Thorn Lamp members have heavy duties; no time for services.”

“Alright.” Lady Heli sounded disappointed. “But God is forgiving and will respect your choices.”

An He glanced at Lola.

Lola knew the Church well but held no fondness for it—especially after witnessing the Saint Lord’s control in the First Fortress, which bred her subtle aversion.

But An He knew nothing about it.

She couldn’t stay ignorant forever. Since the First Fortress promoted the Church, she had to understand it thoroughly, probing from every angle.

After a brief thought, An He gripped Lady Heli’s hand firmly, her eyes reflecting the room’s light. “I’m interested. Let me join!”

Lola paused mid-peel of her pear: ? Are you okay?

Lady Heli beamed, her eyes sparkling as she gripped back. The scene grew heartwarmingly cozy.

Moments later, she fetched a thick, worn book for An He. “This is our Ancient God New Testament. Preview it. Come to me with questions—I’m alone and bored anyway.”

Lady Heli smiled kindly now, naturally and normally, shoving the book eagerly as if afraid An He might change her mind.

An He took it, examining the old tome—well-circulated, with curled page corners from frequent reading. The cover was gilded leather. She touched it reverently and placed it on her lap.

After a few more pleasantries and confirming Lady Heli’s condition hadn’t worsened, An He and Lola bid farewell and left the room.

Outside, An He’s smile vanished. Staring at the door, she sternly warned Lola, “Don’t tell anyone I’m approaching the Church.”

“Why?”

An He replied, “I have my reasons.”

Lola accepted it readily. “I see.”

“Why doesn’t the Ninth Fortress ban this Church?” An He asked as they walked. “The Thorn Lamp clearly believes in science.”

“This theology helps Bone Erosion Disease patients accept their pain without mental collapse,” Lola explained. “See? Lady Heli endures silently, waiting quietly for God’s grace. That’s faith’s power.”

So the Thorn Lamp respected their beliefs, letting them die less fearfully—a humane approach. An He guessed Professor Su might have advocated keeping it; it fit Su Ling’s style.

Both fortresses tolerated the Church, but guided it in opposite directions.

An He glanced at the scripture in her hand.

Lady Heli was undeniably a kind, life-loving auntie—details impossible to fake, even for Lola. Yet that dark gaze unsettled her deeply.

Her hallucination couldn’t have been baseless.

Had the fungus started eroding Lady Heli’s facial nerves? What were those eerie mutterings? Did the fungus transmit invisible neural signals?

But Lola was unaffected—only An He was.

This was An He’s first close contact with a conscious Bone Erosion patient. Was this eerie behavior universal, or unique to Lady Heli?

Where had she contracted the Bone-Phagocytic Fungus? An He recalled their earlier confrontation with Lola—right, in the mines!

An He hardened her expression, noting Lola didn’t mind her commanding tone.

“The infection source in the mines—still there?” An He asked.

“Yes, I left it.”

“Not worried about spreading it? People still work the mines.”

Lola paused briefly. “Didn’t I tell you not to pity Lady Heli? Normal people don’t enter that crevice. She found those bones, didn’t report them, and got scratched—’accidentally,’ she claimed. But I’ve seen First Fortress devotees deliberately infect themselves seeking God’s mercy.”

“They don’t fear death?” An He was shocked.

“Everyone thinks they’re the lucky one before the grave,” Lola said earnestly.

She added, “They usually claim God commanded it.”

“You’re sure Lady Heli did it on purpose? This isn’t the First Fortress.”

“I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter—the outcome’s the same,” Lola said flatly. “I’m not optimistic about human nature. Most are ugly and greedy. Who says ‘kindness’ isn’t just compromise for social acceptance?”

An He glanced at her in surprise, nearly forgetting—this woman lacked true compassion.

“Tell me the bones’ location,” An He demanded. “I’ll check during tomorrow’s mine training.”

…

That night, before bed, An He opened the Ancient God New Testament.

It detailed the Church’s origins. A new faith, the Ninth Fortress edition was sanitized—milder, without harmful doctrines.

An He skimmed it, piecing together key clues.

The worshipped Immortal God was once the cosmic deity of eternal life and order.

After the catastrophe, It despised humanity’s greed-fueled destruction and unleashed “divine punishment.”

Survivors enduring it awakened Nestsouls as “God’s grace.”

Those who failed lost themselves, degenerating into Bone Eaters bound eternally.

Thus, Embedded Spirit Bodies and Bone Eaters were two sides of the same coin.

The Immortal God dwelled in a bountiful realm, never showing Its true form—described as “formless, indescribable.” Its will came via Red-Clothed Apostles.

The “red” symbolized God; An He recalled the Bone-Phagocytic Fungus mycelium was vivid red.

Was Gu Xianqing a Red-Clothed Apostle enacting God’s will? She fit the dream-wandering elite perfectly. No contrived coincidence—the book’s age predated her.

Too perfect. Did gods truly exist here?

Inconceivable!

An He flipped to the title page, where ornate script bore an inscription.

“Flesh will rot, flowers will wither, the disordered realm buries my soul, my organs, my skin and hair. Only bones are the eternal possession of all who must perish.”

An He traced the line of text with her fingertip, an inexplicable chill rising from the soles of her feet.

She realized that theology and science each expounded on this world in their own way, each with their own “believers.” Science viewed Bone Erosion Disease as parasitism and contamination; theology saw it as baptism and grace. Neither could convince the other, neither could eradicate the other—they intertwined and coexisted. Some submitted to them, others exploited them.

And An He, who had stumbled into this world by mistake, now stood at the crossroads with a lantern in hand.

She looked down at the surrounding paths, branching out in all directions, each one thorn-choked, leading into enveloping darkness, their destinations unknown. Some stood at the end of science, others at the end of theology. Gu Xianqing lurked in the shadows, flickering in and out of sight, unsure which way to slither.

At the crucial moment of decision, An He chose to chase after that flash of red.

Then darkness surged over her, ancient mutterings swept in, a crimson tide of blood overwhelmed her, threading into her lungs bit by bit. An He tried to make out the message in the chaotic whispers, but she couldn’t understand a word.

Just as darkness blinded her eyes, a bone-deep ache jolted them open.

She had fallen asleep without realizing it.

The soreness came from overworked muscles. An He thought it was morning again, but suddenly—smack—a palm slapped her thigh once more.

Hiss. An He ached to curl up, but she found she couldn’t move.

No, it wasn’t morning. She was still dreaming.

It was that familiar sensation.

An He had thought Gu Xianqing wouldn’t invade her dreams tonight, but Gu Xianqing never played by the rules.

The woman was back, sitting on the edge of An He’s bed with a beaming smile, pinching An He’s already sore leg muscles between thumb and forefinger.

Goddamn torture worse than any rack.

“Training so intense—it breaks my heart to watch,” Gu Xianqing sighed with feigned heartache.

Crocodile tears.

Gu Xianqing must have changed clothes; the tear from the Wrist Blade at her waist was gone, but the style was the same as that previous shirt. In a daze, An He felt like the red garment clung to her like Raven’s feathers—semi-permanent.

Gu Xianqing patted An He’s quilt, then circled the room: “Nice digs. Fresh bedding, no disturbances, nice and quiet. Next time, I’ll crash here overnight.”

“Aren’t you already here?” An He eyed her warily. “What do you want?”

“To check on you.” Gu Xianqing picked up the scripture draped across An He’s chest. “Two days apart, and you’re already dipping into Church stuff? What, you joining this woowoo cult?”

Gu Xianqing waved the book, then unceremoniously tore off the title page and crumpled it into a ball.

An He watched her actions calmly: “Aren’t you a Red-Clothed Apostle? Do Red-Clothed Apostles disrespect the Church like this?”

“Apostle?” Gu Xianqing arched a brow, a scornful smile playing across her features. She conjured a dream flame that ignited the aged paper. But Gu Xianqing didn’t answer An He’s question.

An He seized the moment to press: “Does God really exist?”

“God doesn’t exist.”

“Then who are you?”

“I am me.” The reply rang out firm and resounding.

Gu Xianqing tore page after page from the scripture, each one bursting into flame like ignited butterflies, ashes drifting onto An He’s quilt—which remained unscathed.

“The Immortal God isn’t worth your faith, An He. You can use it, but don’t believe it. And definitely don’t embrace it.”

“Why?”

“You’ll end up miserable.” Gu Xianqing tossed out the answer casually. “Advice: don’t dig too deep into the Church. Those people are all lunatics. No good comes of it.”

“This is the first time you’ve warned me so seriously.” An He noted that Gu Xianqing seemed to have come tonight just for this warning.

Ever since the Immortal God came up, Gu Xianqing’s smile had vanished entirely. She didn’t even realize how grave her expression had become. An He paused: “I heard some strange sounds.”

“What sounds?”

“Couldn’t make them out. Like snake tongues.”

Gu Xianqing’s expression softened a touch as she gazed at her steadily: “That’s a hallucination. Ignore it. Don’t listen, don’t dwell, don’t bother.”

Fine. An He was certain now—that wasn’t a hallucination.

Gu Xianqing didn’t want her involved? Then she’d dive right in.

“Are you a Nestsoul?” An He pivoted sharply. “The third batch of experiments at First Fortress—it’s connected to you, isn’t it?”

“Lola’s told you a lot.”

“She didn’t tell me. It’s my own guess. You are a Nestsoul.” This time, An He stated it as fact.

Gu Xianqing’s expression froze, then bloomed into a smile: “I figured you’d take longer to figure it out. Sharp mind.”

“What about your true body?”

“Too many questions tonight. Naughty girl.” Gu Xianqing clamped a hand tight over her mouth. “Question time’s over. Now, listen up.”

Gu Xianqing was in a foul mood tonight, An He judged—extremely foul, and it had worsened since arriving. The hand over her mouth gripped with brutal force. Gu Xianqing smiled, but her fingers dug in mercilessly, nearly cracking An He’s jaw.

An He could only blink in concession, signaling the ruthless woman to speak first.

“I’ve read your memory fragments,” Gu Xianqing commanded. “There’s someone in your fortress called Helitanskia who’s entered the second stage of Bone Erosion Disease. Get her out of the fortress and hand her over to me. I’ll meet you at the spot from last time.”

“Mmph-mmph…” An He’s voice was muffled.

“What’s that gibberish?” Gu Xianqing released her hand in disgust. “Speak properly.”

“What are you going to do to her?” An He’s voice turned icy.

“None of your business.”

“I won’t follow your orders. She’s a Ninth Fortress resident.”

“You haven’t figured out how to handle her yourself, have you?” Gu Xianqing patted her cheek with a confident smile. “No need to agree now. In a couple days, you’ll come begging me.”

“Beg you? Never.”

Gu Xianqing leaned down, looming over her. Unformed darkness crashed in like a tide, carrying an unquestionable force.

She gripped An He’s collar and whispered: “We’ll see about that.”