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n750 Source of Life

n750 Source of Life

nAfter a few seconds, Lugano stuttered, “Can you actually eat that?”

nWhat happens if you do eat it? What are the changes?

nDoes it cause the Child of God to be born?

nLumian glanced at Lugano’s arm and said, “What can’t be eaten?”

nLugano suddenly felt a sharp phantom pain and shook his head vigorously. “No, never mind!”

nHe wanted to get away from Ludwig and Lumian but couldn’t think of an excuse on the spot.

nAfter Ludwig swallowed a mouthful of cheese bread, he spoke slowly, “Top-tier ingredients don’t need much accompaniment or seasoning. We just need to give it a symbol. That includes nine main staple ingredients: wheat, oats, rye, rice, potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, cassava, and any other kind of bean. Cook them with the umbilical remains in cow’s or sheep’s milk for half an hour, and it’s ready to eat. This dish is called ‘Source of Life.”

nAre you cooking or performing a mystical rite? Lumian muttered under his breath.

nOf course, a Gourmet pathway’s Chef, who concocted alcoholic beverages and cooked various dishes, was essentially conducting corresponding mystical rites.

nThoughtfully, Lumian asked, “Actually, it doesn’t have to be these nine ingredients, right? As long as the concept of main ingredients and their quantity is satisfied? Likewise, other kinds of milk would work too?”

nLudwig shook his head. “No, this way tastes the best.”

nSo, what you’re saying is, the method I mentioned would work but won’t taste as good? No

nwonder it’s the Gourmet pathway, always chasing culinary perfection… Lumian stood up and instructed Lugano to buy some of the ingredients.

nLumian’s Traveler’s Bag only contained dry rations that could be eaten right out of the package.

nFor Trier, a leading global metropolis, the ingredients Ludwig needed were easily collected, and by noon, Lumian and Lugano had returned to see Ludwig placing the main ingredients along with the umbilical remnant into a stew pot filled with several hundred milliliters of milk.

nThese steps had to be completed by a Chef himself, to endow them with mysticism, to coax out the designated uniqueness of the ingredients and maintain them to a degree conducive to absorption. Done by anyone else, the dish might have no effect or turn into poison.

nAfter simmering for a while, Lumian smelled the starchy aroma mixed with the milk and saw dense milky white steam rising above the pot.

nThe steam did not disperse but condensed in midair and slowly settled back into the pot, carrying a tantalizing scent tinged with blood.

nAt that moment, Ludwig turned to Lumian and licked his lips, asking, “Do you want to add sugar or salt?”

n“What differences do they bring?” Lumian asked cautiously.

nLudwig responded seriously, “The taste, one is sweet, the other is salty. Which do you prefer?”

nLumian, sensing the choice, relaxed and asked with a smile, “Which do you prefer?”

n“I can’t eat it…” Ludwig said regretfully, mumbling, “Sweet is tasty, salty is good too. If only it could be split into two parts, one sweet, one salty…”

nAs he spoke, the young boy, seemingly agitated, sprinkled some salt and then tossed in some sugar.

nLumian watched amusedly, not stopping him.

nFor him, the taste of the Source of Life was not important; its effect was.

nFinally, Ludwig instructed Lugano to extinguish the flame and removed the contents of the pot.

nIt was a palm-sized piece of starchy congealment, white and soft, sticky and gooey.

nThe surface of the food was covered with red spots, as if blood had seeped out from within.

n“It’s ready to eat.” Ludwig tried hard not to drool.

n“Will it be effective with just one bite, or do I need to eat it all?” Lumian asked, his curiosity reminiscent of his days learning various experiments, which often frustrated Aurore with his questions.

n“All of it,” Ludwig said with a look of disappointment.

nLumian picked up the steaming, slightly scalding food, brought it to his mouth, and took a bite.

nThe sweet and salty flavors melded together, offsetting each other’s intensity in a unique way that relieved Lumian of any mental burden. He quickly devoured the Source of Life.

n“Will it work right away?” an eager Lumian asked, already resolute in his intentions.

nLudwig pointed to the master bedroom.

n“You’ll need to sleep first.”

nSleep? With a slight sigh, Lumian left the dining table, returned to his room, and lay down on his bed.

nClosing his eyes, he felt his body gradually warm up, his consciousness becoming heavier and heavier…

nIn the darkness, Lumian heard soft sobs.

nHe turned his head, carefully discerning the sound.

nIt was of a little girl whispering, “Mommy… Mommy…”

nThe voice grew louder, more mature, and more piercing.

n“Mommy! Mommy!”

nThe cries drew closer, as if they were right beside Lumian, resonating within him.

n“Mommy! Mommy!”

nInside my body… Lumian suddenly jolted awake, regaining his senses.

nThe darkness shattered, and sunlight pierced his eyes.

nHe sat up abruptly, freeing himself from the dream.

nThe cries of “mommy, mommy” still echoed faintly in his mind.

nDid I hear the Child of God crying? Lumian looked down at himself.

nHe undressed and found nothing unusual, but he knew something about him was different now, an indescribable change.

nHe didn’t feel the Great Mother’s gaze, which made him even more cautious.

nDressed again, he left his room to find Lugano sneaking glances his way.

n“Are—are you alright?” Lugano, who had been caught red-handed, asked instinctively.

nLumian chuckled. “It’s okay, I won’t become the Child of God of the Great Mother.”

nSeeing Lugano eyeing his stomach, Lumian added, “Nor have I conceived Her.”

nAfter speaking, he left the still-concerned Lugano behind and walked out of the apartment.

nThe afternoon sun was perfect, and with nothing much to do in the next couple of days, Lumian decided to stake out a particular spot.

nThat place was the Trier catacombs.

nKnowing that Harrison from Resurrection Island might appear at places associated with death, darkness, dusk, and decay, Lumian’s first thoughts were of the Dream Festival and the Trier catacombs-—locations rife with death and dark mysticism.

nIn the first level of the catacombs, by the “Entrance to the Old Ossuary” leading deeper below, Lumian sat next to a withered, scattered skeleton with a lit white candle, quietly observing each visitor descending into or returning from the depths.

nSoon, a group of students passed by, spotting Lumian sitting alongside the catacombs bones.

nThe leader, a tall, thin man with glasses, asked Lumian curiously, “Why are you sitting here?”

nLumian casually responded, “I’ve been down to the lower levels many times and lost interest. Now, I just want to sit here quietly and watch everyone and everybody that comes and goes, to see who never leaves.”

n“That sounds interesting,” the students said, holding their white candles. They decided to sit down too and observe if any of those returning from the depths showed signs of fear.

nThe tall, bespectacled man chose to sit beside Lumian and struck up a conversation.

n“Do you really think not lighting a white candle here could lead to mishaps?”

nLumian glanced at him and chuckled, “You could try it, and we’d all see what happens.”

nBefore the students could respond, Lumian spoke in a relaxed tone, “I didn’t believe in these things before, but then…”

nHe suddenly lowered his voice.

nTwo of the female students blurted out, “What happened?”

n“Then…” Lumian wore a reminiscent expression, “I met someone who had encountered the Montsouris ghost. You know the legend of the Montsouris ghost, right?”

nThe students nodded together.

nYou really know Trier’s spooky tales well… Typical of Underground Trier creatures—students…

nLumian sighed, “His immediate family all died, and he thought he could escape it. But one day, when I went to see him, I found him hanged from a window frame.

n“Since then, I’ve been strictly following every rule of Underground Trier.”

nThe students looked at each other, a bit frightened by the tale told by a peer.

n“It seems we really shouldn’t extinguish this candle,” the tall student with glasses said regretfully.

nLumian lowered his voice again, “Have you ever encountered such a thing? There are extra books, blankets, and clothes in your dorm—none which belong to you—but the administrator tells you that no one else lives there.”

nTwo students turned pale, as if hearing the most terrifying ghost story.

nAs if they were seeking a lifeline, they asked, “Yes, that happens, do you know why?”

nLumian shook his head and sighed, “I heard those are the people who extinguished their candles here. They completely vanished, with no one remembering them.”

nHearing this, the tall student shivered instinctively.

nSuddenly, he felt something tap his shoulder.

nHe turned to look and saw a ghastly pale skeletal hand.

n“Ah!” He screamed, jumping up.

nLumian pulled back the bone hand he had picked up somewhere, his smile mocking. “You’re really scaredy-cats! Scared already?”

nThe students were stunned, and after a while, they forcefully said, “No! That was just a reflex!”

nAs they seriously considered whether to beat up the prankster, someone came up the stone steps to the second level.

nHe wore a blue top and yellow pants, his face deeply wrinkled and his white hair sparse and dry, holding a short lit white candle.

nIt was an elderly catacombs administrator.

nLumian slightly frowned.

nHe had seen this catacombs administrator before in the giant tomb chamber housing the Samaritan Women’s Spring, but the administrator hadn’t used a white candle then.

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