Chapter 860: Lynch, the Ferryman

The old High Priest left everything behind and came to the Federation to start a new life.

Nagaryll was no longer the land it had been in his time. Staying there would only lead to a worsening situation, and he risked eventually being removed like a nail pulled from a wall. Better to leave early.

At least he didn’t come empty-handed—he brought several tons of gold. That was more than enough to live comfortably here.

After chatting briefly with Drag, he approached Lynch. Lynch extended his hand, and they shook, but it was clear their relationship wasn’t as close as that between Drag and the old priest.

At least Drag and the priest exchanged a hug. Lynch and the priest simply shook hands.

“What do you plan to do with me?” the old priest asked bluntly. He glanced around. “I don’t see my son.”

Lynch responded casually, “I notified him. He said he’s out preaching today, so you’ll meet later. I’ll show you around the city in the meantime.”

The old priest seemed reassured. He believed Rika was his child.

In the temples of Nagaryll, more than a dozen priests claimed to be his sons. The religious succession system there was unique.

Priests would travel through towns and villages, selecting holy maidens. These maidens served the temple priests and the High Priest. If they didn’t become pregnant, they’d be sent home at age twenty to live ordinary lives.

If one became pregnant, her child would be considered a candidate for the next generation of priests. These women would be compensated, but most still had to leave the temple—there was no place for them there.

Due to the nature of this system, no one could be sure whether a child truly belonged to a specific priest. So, they did not use terms like “father and son” but rather referred to each other by their religious roles.

Still, appearances could lead to private assumptions. The High Priest believed Rika resembled his younger self and thus firmly believed Rika was his real son.

He had sent only Rika to the Federation. The rest stayed in Nagaryll, continuing their priestly careers.

In old age, with a lifetime of faith and belief behind him, his desires and emotions had returned—he naturally hoped to be accompanied by his child.

Hearing that Rika was out preaching made the old priest genuinely pleased. At least his son wasn’t idle here.

Being able to preach, to do something—it was enough. People needed something to hold on to, and the old priest understood that better than anyone.

The outcome of that preaching, or any work, was less important.

As they talked, Lynch invited him into the car to tour the city and help him settle in.

Someone like the old priest might still be useful one day. Due to his special identity, surveillance on him began the moment he boarded the ship in Nagaryll.

He couldn’t live just anywhere. His sensitive background meant he could only stay in Eminence—under the watchful eye of the Federation.

The old priest had prepared himself for the prosperity of the Federation, but it was still not enough. One couldn’t understand why people abandoned everything—even their families—to come here, unless they saw it for themselves.

“Your gold has already been deposited in a bank…” Lynch said as they sat in the car.

Nagaryll’s religion worshipped gold. From royalty to paupers, many would rather sell their children to acquire gold artifacts as offerings.

Their motives weren’t pure—only by doing this would the gods grant them a good reincarnation. In the end, it was still about themselves.

This led priests across the land to amass an enormous amount of gold. Lynch’s subordinate, Asel, even ran a factory extracting gold using chemical reagents.

They would buy low-grade goldware from temples—items with gold powder mixed with paint—and extract real gold from them. That business had never once stopped due to supply issues.

Lynch had seen the old priest’s collection before—a mountain of gold vessels, casually hammered and piled together. It was unforgettable.

With the international gold price exceeding two million per ton, the priest’s stash was worth over fifteen million.

That kind of money would make anyone wealthy—anywhere in the world.

As Lynch mentioned the gold, the old priest’s attention returned to the present. He looked at Lynch, waiting for him to continue.

“Federation citizens also like gold, but they don’t treat it as currency. I’ve converted your gold into cash at current market rates and deposited it in a bank account.”

“Do you want me to explain what a bank account is?”

The old priest smiled and shook his head. “I understand. Don’t treat me like I know nothing. I get it.”

Lynch took a document from his pocket and handed it over. “This is your account certificate. You can use it at any branch of Golden Exchange Bank to modify your account.”

“You’ll also need it to issue cash or transfer checks. In the Federation, checks are important.”

The old priest listened with interest. He had questions, but didn’t ask.

For years, he’d acted as the all-knowing representative of the gods—the divine presence on Earth. Everyone else could be confused, could be ignorant. But not him.

That kind of mindset wouldn’t change overnight. He had to adapt.

After a brief city tour, they had a meal. The old priest was clearly unaccustomed to using forks and knives or dining at a table, while Drag was completely comfortable.

In fact, Drag now looked more like a Federation citizen than the citizens themselves—he had money. And in the Federation, money made everything right. Drag was exactly that kind of man.

He occasionally shared interesting stories and daily trivia with the old priest, helping Lynch ease his transition.

After dinner, Lynch drove the priest to reunite with his son. Before the old priest got out, Lynch grabbed his hand.

“Don’t tell your son how much money you have. At least, don’t mention it right away. Understand what I mean?”

The old priest froze. His eyes sharpened but quickly turned cloudy again.

He nodded. “I’m not stupid…” After a moment, he added, “Thanks for the reminder.”

Lynch let go of his hand. “You’ve cooperated with me fully. I consider you a friend. The way I treat friends is different from how I treat enemies—you’ll understand what I mean.”

“If anything comes up, call me.”

With that, Lynch said his goodbye and the car slowly left the villa district. The old priest, standing aside, wore a slightly strange expression. He touched the bracelet on his wrist—his father had given it to him when he was in his twenties.

As soon as he opened the door, Rika’s voice called out, “Welcome, Father!”

He wore a rather strange outfit—tight at the cuffs and collar, a dark teal shade just lighter than pure black. It made him look stern and mature.

The old priest’s face lit up with a smile as they embraced. Then he noticed more people in the room.

“Let me introduce you. These are my good friends, and also children of God. They’ve been eager to meet you.”

There were over a dozen people, young men and women. In their eyes was a familiar look—fanaticism.

The old priest had seen that same look in the eyes of believers in Nagaryll, and in his own reflection for many years.

Some called it devotion, but he knew better. It wasn’t, at least not entirely.

What they worshipped was the illusion of a god, and their own perceived powerlessness. The old priest knew this better than anyone—they were intoxicated.

Nature held many strange things, some of which caused hallucinations.

The incense used in Nagaryll’s native religion contained such substances. The real reason each High Priest became the core of succession was the incense.

Their specially crafted incense allowed people to see the gods, hear the gods speak, and feel their greatness.

But deep down, every High Priest knew the truth. When people cried out to see the gods again, what they really wanted was to bathe in the incense and play with the illusions it brought.

After briefly greeting everyone, Rika took the old priest upstairs.

Later, after the guests had left, Rika found the old priest watching TV.

His ability to adapt was far greater than Lynch had expected. At the very least, he knew how to turn on the television and find what he wanted to watch.

Simple? Not quite.

In the Federation, at least 37% of people couldn’t operate a remote control properly. It wasn’t a simple thing at all.

“It’s really good to see you. Is everything over back there?” Rika asked casually as he sat down, like it was small talk.

The old priest turned the volume down and nodded. “Everything is over.”

Rika nodded in return. He wasn’t sure how to continue, but finally asked, “Did you come empty-handed?”

Realizing how blunt that sounded, he quickly added, “I mean—did you bring anything else with you?”