Hyper-Dimensional Player

Sergeant, Wealth Port.

The figure of Sharella stood by the window of a villa built on a cliff near the port, dressed in a luxurious pale gold robe, with gold embroidered cuffs bearing the emblem of the Wealth Church. A large deep blue gem adorned her full chest, while ten slender fingers wore six magic rings, one of which was her seal, representing the power of the Five Fierce Women, who are like a small king within the vast commercial kingdom of the Wealth Church.

Sharella has now regained the strength of a Legendary Priest and received some Divine Grace, making her aura appear different from before, growing more confident.

She gazed at the fleets coming and going in the port area, a trace of arrogance curling at the corner of her mouth, and slowly said to the attendant beside her: "Send the dividend from the port chamber of commerce for the first half of the year to Lord Duncan-Starfall."

"Also prepare a portion to send to the Great Mother of the Bliss Church."

Though the relationship with a good friend has changed, it’s still necessary to maintain it. After all, where does happiness come from without money?

The Wealth Church has always funded the Church Alliance in the Bright Water Realm.

"Yes." The attendant beside her replied respectfully.

Thinking of that man, Sharella couldn’t help but have a distant look in her eyes, crossing her long, toned legs while sitting on a soft red leather sofa, furrowing her elegant brows, she pondered: "What exactly is he planning?"

"Is the cross-world trade still going on?"

Recently, she has recruited quite a few personnel, including non-human races, all for the cross-world trade routes.

After a moment of contemplation, Sharella slowly stood up, came to the window, overlooking the masses below her feet, as a Gold Lord Bishop of the Wealth Church, her status rivaled that of royal nobles.

Suddenly, Sharella directed her gaze toward a ship in the distance. Seeing the group of people disembarking, she looked surprised and said: "Tukans?"

"Have they started doing business too?"

On the right side of the port area was a small merchant ship, from which more than a dozen fierce-looking, differently dressed nomadic warriors disembarked.

At the forefront was an elder, but he was unimportant, just an ordinary merchant. The truly exceptional one was his guard, a grassland sharpshooter wearing a wolf hide-edged indigo battle robe, with a belt decorated with carved deer antlers, from which hung a sharkskin quiver and a brass flint.

The other wore a fur cap decorated with a mink tail, two ochre-dyed horse tails draping from the brim like flags fluttering in the wind, armguards made of yak tendon, with fingertips embedded with tempered eagle claw iron plates, and the bowstring gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

On the exposed chest, Sharella saw a menacing wolf-head totem, indicating the other also possessed Totem Warrior abilities.

"Sharpshooter?"

"Could it be a Legendary Powerhouse!"

Sharella’s pupils shrank, her gaze shifting to the several guards beside him, all uniformly grassland warriors, with many capable High Tier Totem Warriors. Grassland sharpshooters are akin to Western countries’ magic shooters, though they excel in tracking and guided arrows, not enchantment, instead seeking the power blessing of the grassland spirit.

Tukan elite shooters can deploy Multi-Arrow, Triple Arrow Release, resembling a terrifying storm of arrow rain.

"Bring the intelligence report just received."

Seemingly realizing something, Sharella quickly instructed the maid, soon perusing the latest intelligence, her expression growing more solemn, murmuring: "Why have so many Tukan caravans appeared lately?"

"Were they not rarely trading with the West before?"

In the past, Tukan stopped near Saer, trading with the Red Robe Wizards, not personally visiting the trade city-states on the Golden Avenue.

"Since the death of Yamen Khan, Tukan has divided into more than a dozen tribes."

"Normally speaking."

"They would have already fallen into chaos, with many tribe leaders vying for the khan’s position."

"Why do they still have the leisure to travel and trade?"

Sharella was beyond perplexed, as wandering nomadic tribes typically fall into chaos upon failure, yet now they haven’t and have dispatched many caravans traveling the land.

"Could they be searching for something?"

Sharella summoned a High Tier Wanderer, instructed a few words, and the old Silver Coins member immediately understood, quickly disappearing.

The port area.

At the signal of a grassland wind spirit sharpshooter, the attendant beside him began moving piles of fur goods down. These goods were merely cover.

The foremost sharpshooter scrutinized everything around him with sharp eyes, then approached the elder, whispering: "Follow the merchant’s protocol."

That elder carefully nodded, lowering his voice, saying: "About the Oracle of the grassland spirit?"

The sharpshooter shot him a glare, spoke firmly: "The Great Shaman simply dispatched us to explore various countries. If the Oracle is real, the one chosen by the grassland spirit will find us."

A total of twelve caravans.

Traveling separately to Saer, Cormyr, Sambia, and other places, their task was to establish presence, though unclear, but it was the Great Shaman interpreting the Oracle, thus these people had to comply.

In the skies of Kingdom Enki’s world, many lacking self-awareness divine-like powers exist, the most representative being the grassland spirit.

Here, they are collectively termed High-Level Essence.

Meanwhile.

In the Great Divine Hall of the Bliss Church, within an exceedingly luxurious villa, the Mother of Great Bliss lazily emerged from the room, draped in a silk nightgown thin as cicada wings, everything within vaguely visible, showcasing her graceful body curves. She prefers sleeping nude, a habit of not wearing undergarments for long.