Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

The Holy City.

Time had quietly slipped into mid-November. Nearly a month had passed since the "October Revolution" that had shaken the Continent.

The reconstruction of the Holy City was proceeding in an orderly fashion. The rubble had been cleared, preliminary repairs had begun on damaged buildings, and pedestrians and merchants had reappeared on the streets. Though their smiles were still somewhat forced, a spirit of life was, at last, reawakening in this ravaged land.

And behind this restoration of order was the day-and-night toil of the new Pope, Vesta I.

At dusk, the last vestiges of a faint golden afterglow lingered on the horizon.

Elizabeth had just ended a day-long, tedious meeting with the College of Cardinals. Dismissing her accompanying Assistant Priests and Attendants, she walked alone through the silent corridors toward the private prayer hall located in the deepest part of Chenxi Hall, reserved exclusively for the Pope.

This place had once been the Sanctuary where past Popes held their most private communions with Oriane. Now, it had become the only place where she could catch her breath and find a moment of inner peace after handling her heavy daily duties.

The hall’s heavy oak doors were shut tight. Ancient patterns of stars, a crescent moon, and olive branches were carved into them, glowing with a dim luster under the corridor lamps.

Just before reaching the doors, Elizabeth suddenly stopped.

She took a shallow breath and raised a hand, subconsciously straightening her robes and hair. Only then did she gently push open the heavy doors to the hall.

The interior of the prayer hall was exceptionally spacious and tall, yet it did not feel empty or cold.

A deep blue velvet carpet covered the floor, muffling any sound of footsteps.

The surrounding walls were built of light gray stone, their lines simple yet solemn. Stained-glass windows depicting the deeds of past Saints were set into the walls.

At this moment, the afterglow of the setting sun was streaming through these colorful panes, casting dreamlike patches of light and shadow inside the hall.

At the far end of the hall was a relatively open space, and at its center, an extremely ancient, circular Array was inscribed upon the floor.

And beside that Array, a figure was already standing in silence.

The figure had his back to the hall’s entrance, facing the largest stained-glass window, which depicted the story of the "First Appearance of the Morning Star."

The clothes he wore were unlike any style Elizabeth knew from any kingdom or era on the Continent.

It was a black robe of an unusually simple design. Its loose fit fell straight to his ankles, and only on the wide cuffs and overlapping lapels could one faintly see cloud patterns embroidered with extremely fine silver thread.

His hair, like the finest silk, was black and cascaded down his back, nearly reaching his waist. In the kaleidoscopic halo of light filtering through the stained glass, its ends seemed to be tinted with a rainbow of colors.

No!

’That’s definitely not just a visual effect from the sunlight passing through the colored glass.’

From her spiritual perspective, countless motes of Dimensional Energy—their colors and forms transcending mortal perception—were flowing gently yet majestically around the figure in black, like a vast, boundless ocean or a ceaselessly rushing river.

It gathered continuously, in a way that defied the limits of space, and silently vanished into him as if he himself were a deep vortex devouring infinite Energy.

As if sensing the slight movement behind him, the silent figure slowly turned around.

The kaleidoscopic light swirled the moment he turned, gilding his black robe with a magnificent, ever-shifting edge of light.

The figure was Murphy.

His expression was calm and indifferent, but his eyes were even deeper than they had been a month ago, as if they reflected the boundless sea of Dimensional Energy she had just "seen."

"You’ve worked hard today," Murphy said, looking at her.

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was clearly audible in the silent hall. It carried a unique tone that instantly smoothed away the last traces of fatigue from Elizabeth’s brow.

Elizabeth quickened her pace, stopping a few steps before him. She tilted her head up slightly, the adoration and reverence in her dark eyes nearly overflowing, but she managed to restrain it well.

"No, My Lord. My duties are nothing. You are the one who works the hardest."

Hearing this, Murphy shook his head. "How could I be working hard? I am merely here, performing my daily Cultivation."

He paused briefly, his gaze falling on Elizabeth’s magnificent papal robes, and continued, "You, on the other hand, Pope Vesta I... rebuilding the Holy City, placating the faithful, balancing the different factions within the College of Cardinals, dealing with envoys from the various nations of the Continent, and implementing new policies... Now that is a truly tangled and exhausting web of tasks. I heard from Davis that you’ve only been sleeping three or four hours a night lately."

A faint blush crept onto Elizabeth’s face. She subconsciously started to lower her head but stopped halfway, lifting it again to look at Murphy with a fervent gaze.

"My Lord, please don’t say that. What I am doing are merely trivial matters compared to the burden you bear."

"Your Cultivation is the true foundation, the pillar that maintains the peace of the Holy City and intimidates those lurking in the shadows. I know that all those people out there—whether it’s the remnants of Cyril’s faction within the Church Court, the envoys of the Northern Great Shepherd Leader, or even the nobles of Rotalia and Phlanis... their current silence and cooperation aren’t because of me, the New Pope. It’s because they know you are here."

"My work is merely to help the common people of this land return to their normal lives as quickly as possible and to see that the new policies are implemented. These things are certainly important, but without your power as the ultimate backing and deterrent, it would all be a castle built on sand. So, My Lord, you are the one working the hardest. As for me... it is my greatest honor to be able to shoulder these worldly trifles for you, allowing you to focus on your Cultivation."