From Secret Clan to the Divine Dynasty

“I’ve come to inspect my manor, so, what exactly is that glowing thing in my hall?”

The engineer in the grand hall bowed and immediately said, “Electric lights, these are electric lights, Your Highness Moter.”

“I know that, this is another trick from the Reforging Church, isn’t it?”

Moter looked up and gazed at the so-called electric light.

It was composed of a glass bulb containing a slender metal filament, encapsulated in an environment filled with inert gas, with two metal pins at the base for the electric current to flow through.

The bulb was also equipped with a metal base to fix it onto the light fixture.

Moter, appearing youthful, had striking silver-white short hair that fluttered gently in the breeze, shimmering with a faint moonlight-like luster.

Gone were the days of the black tailcoat; he now donned a well-tailored white suit that reflected a soft sheen under the lights, as if cloaking him in a layer of pure and flawless radiance. Your next chapter awaits on My Virtual Library Empire

His demeanor carried an indescribable sense of laziness and casualness, as if he held a detached attitude towards all things in the world, each movement exuding composure and elegance.

Moter had successfully ascended to the 5th Rank of the Path of Conquest as the “Silver Glory Knight,” and his Blood of Salvation had simultaneously reached the level of a low-level Monarch.

With the powerful Destiny’s Trajectory and rune power, Moter was capable of contending with a high-level Monarch for a time and even had a slim chance of victory, while most Extraordinary Exponents at the middle rank of Monarch could not match him.

The engineer frowned slightly and said, “Well, Your Highness Moter, how can you call it a trick? It is said to be something important delivered through the Divine Oracle of the God of Reforging.”

“It can bring light to the whole world! I think it’s a power no less than the Blazing Sun!” The engineer became more and more excited as he spoke.

“God of Reforging huh, I don’t believe in such a bizarre existence.” Moter smiled and, without hesitation, openly spoke words that belittled the True Gods.

The engineer was clearly taken aback and seemed somewhat upset but still forced himself to endure his emotions, even mustering a reluctant smile to say,

“Uh… with all due respect, Your Highness Moter, the God of Reforging is still one of the True Gods, and His existence is legitimate. It’s reasonable to show respect for the God of Reforging.”

Moter silently stared at the engineer; hmm, engineers naturally tended to be followers of the God of Reforging, and such people were becoming increasingly common.

In this day and age, both the Silver Moon Church and the Tempest Church had completely declined.

And the influence of the Reforging Church advanced by leaps and bounds, having entered thousands of homes with various technologies. Many people worshipped the God of Reforging not for anything else but because fixing things was indeed a bit easier after believing in Him.

Salvation Church, Sun Church, Reforging Church, World Order Church… their followers made up ninety percent of the population.

He stared at the other party until he felt uncomfortable, shook his head after a while, and continued, “You might not be very clear, but a hundred years ago, the God of Reforging was also considered an Evil God by the other Five Great True Gods Churches, and they only became regarded as True Gods in recent decades.”

The second year after his marriage, Moter Fischer moved into his own manor, and at this moment, he was inspecting the final touches of the renovation, feeling curious as it was the first time seeing something called an electric light.

“Hopefully, it’ll be more useful than a gas light.” He nodded and no longer paid attention to the embarrassed engineer.

The name of this manor was Moter Manor.

Moter Manor was specifically located on the outskirts of Fein City, and now the entire East Coast Province was laying more and more tracks. With Nasir City becoming the center of the Eastern Continent, the status of nearby Fein City soared as well.

“Come out already, Moter.”

Suddenly, a voice came from outside the door, and Moter shrugged his shoulders, still unhurriedly walking outside.

Standing outside the door was a handsome and cold-looking young male.

The eldest prince of Cyart, Austin Fischer, had a stern face, carved as if by a sculptor from the hardest jade, with sharp lines and no superfluous waves of emotion. His dazzling silver hair was like the first frost of early winter covering the peaks of the Snow Mountains, cold and pure.

He was dressed in exquisite royal garb, each stitch revealing supreme nobility and power. The color of the clothes was deep and solemn, creating a stark contrast with the silver-white hair, thereby emphasizing the undeniable air of a ruler he emanated.

This haughty eldest prince seldom revealed a smile; every decision was well-considered and each action precise. It was as if he was a chess player always maintaining the upper hand.

He, too, inherited the powerful Blood of Salvation and reached the Middle Rank of a Monarch, while his Consecution was at the 5th Rank of the Path of Authority as the “Deadly Baron.”

Many said that Prince Austin greatly resembled a combination of Cree and Christine—possessing perfect looks, a cold temperament, and extremely high intelligence and management skills.

“You’re really dragging your feet. Don’t you have a sense of urgency? Time management is very important, Moter.”

Austin did not hesitate to lecture, causing Moter nearly to have a headache.

“Yes, yes, I understand; it won’t happen again!”

Austin knew very well that it could indeed happen again with the other party, his gaze ice-cold as he shook his head.

If he were under his command, he would definitely pay a price, experience fear, but since this was his brother…

Then, no repeat.

“Don’t start fighting, you two.”

The two’s younger sister arrived with her children, the youngest Margo Fischer.

Her silver hair, like the purest first snow of winter, was both cold and heartwarming, and her smile had an indescribable infectiousness that made one instinctively want to draw nearer.

The princess’s demeanor was both noble and approachable, as she wore a delicately crafted court gown whose hem swayed gently with her every step, revealing a blend of grace and the purity and vivacity of a young girl.

“Margo!”

Moter’s wife, Helena, ran over and embraced Margo, both faces wreathed in smiles.

Helena and Margo had a good relationship.

Auston nodded slightly, his expression unreadable as he said, “Everyone has arrived, so let’s set out.”

“By the way, the decision to hold that ‘demon’s’ centenary celebration at Nasir Manor instead of in the city near Rhea, is because we have an important family meeting to hold there.”

“What?” Moter looked somewhat stunned.

Auston continued with a grave tone, “It’s a big matter, a very big one, that could determine our future destiny.”

Moter fell into thought.

He knew his brother was never one for exaggeration.

Soon, the group, along with dozens of servants, left Moter Manor and headed to Fischer Manor, arriving at the train station to take a steam train exclusive to the Fischer family, bound for Nasir City.

On the journey, Moter, surrounded by many relatives in the train carriage, felt suddenly dazed, with memories of Lucius emerging in his mind, making everything before his eyes seem distorted and surreal.

“…”

He subconsciously clutched his head, feeling as if he were at sea, with everything around him swaying.

Lucius…

The founding Family Head of the Fischer family…

What was the meaning of all this?

What exactly was my relationship to him…

“What’s the matter, Moter?” Helena asked with concern.

After a moment’s daze, Moter came back to himself, shaking his head and smiling, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Over the years, he had recalled everything, but still could not confirm his relationship with the other, nor fully accept the memories that belonged to Lucius…

The train’s whistle blew, and Moter remained silent, feeling deep within that he must find a real answer.

——

Nasir, a city sculpted by the wind and frost into ever-greater splendor.

And within this city, the most distinguished Fischer family was about to welcome a milestone moment— the centenary celebration of the “Black Fischer,” Family Head Darren.

All over the city, from the grand palaces to the alleys, every corner was filled with festive atmosphere.

Merchants along the streets hung special banners and decorations embroidered with gold and dark blue thread proclaiming “The Gods Protect the Fischer Family” and similar sentiments.

The air was fragrant with the scent of food, as from the street corner snack stalls to the city’s most upscale restaurants, all were busily preparing a variety of sumptuous dishes; people in their festive attire burst with happy smiles, many gathering in the squares to pray to the gods together and bless the Fischer family.

Inside Fischer Manor, the scene was even more bustling; the gates of the manor were flung open, welcoming guests from all walks of life, including distinguished nobles, talented artists and scholars, and commoners who had once benefited from the Fischer family’s grace.

In the banquet hall, resplendent crystal chandeliers lit up the space, portraits of the previous two generations of family heads decked the walls, along with a celebratory painting of Darren Fischer specially commissioned for the birthday feast.

However, behind the citywide celebrations and the brilliant lights, a solemn and intense family meeting was about to take place within the Fischer family.

In the Grand Hall underground, key members of the Fischer family and the Dawn Church sat around a long conference table, their faces void of any joy from the banquet, replaced by seriousness and focus.

Finally, with the sound of faint footsteps, Darren Fischer slowly entered the Grand Hall, taking deliberate steps that exuded an unquestionable resolve.

He sat at the head of the conference table, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, those eyes that had experienced countless sorrows and decisions, as if they could penetrate into the deepest recesses of the heart.

“Karno’s prophecy… there are still thirty years,” he began.

“After thirty years, the powers of the false gods will completely vanish, and all The Oaths will become void, while Heavenly Enlightenment will freely enter the Eastern Continent.”

Everyone fell silent.

“I have an idea, a bold one but likely effective, which might tip the situation in our favor after thirty years.”

Darren continued speaking, still looking around thirty years old despite having reached a hundred, his gaze filled with a malevolent and unmasked madness.

“Hahahaha! I believe the time has come,” he declared. “Now is the moment, to reveal to the entire world the faith of the Lord of the Lost and the existence of the Power of Consecution!”