Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

Chapter 424: Chapter 88: Bell

All eyes once again focused on Elizabeth, on that Ancient Bell.

A fervent anticipation filled the square.

The New Pope had been born. Now, only the final, most glorious step remained—the miraculous tolling of the bell!

Just at this critical moment, as the crowd held its breath waiting for the bell, Bellardi felt a sudden, violent throb from the black stone in his palm—a jolt so strong it felt like it would tear itself free!

It grew scorching hot as an invisible force pulled his hand, pointing it toward a relatively sparse corner of the crowd below the altar, a spot shrouded in the shadow of a massive stone pedestal.

The spot was still a hundred meters from the altar, but it was where the Guards were thinnest and the ritual’s light just barely reached.

’That’s the place... The shadow... The shadow of the light...’

The thought roared in his mind.

Taking advantage of the fact that everyone’s attention—including the nearby Guards’—was riveted on the "miracle" about to occur on the altar, Bellardi slipped through the gaps in the crowd like a slick loach, moving with difficult but rapid steps toward that shadowed corner.

His heart hammered like a drum and sweat soaked his tattered clothes, but his eyes burned with a mixture of madness and glee.

At last, he squeezed his way to the edge of the shadow.

Not far away, he could see the backs of the Guards, their gazes fixed on the altar.

He leaned back against the cold, rough stone pedestal and, with a trembling hand, pulled the black stone from his tunic.

The stone vibrated faintly in his palm, its surface swirling with an ominous, dark light.

Without further hesitation, he used all his strength to shove it deep into a crack between the stone slabs at his feet, then hastily covered it with dust and loose pebbles.

The instant the stone touched the ground, it seemed to melt, seeping silently beneath the slabs and leaving behind only a faint black mark.

A faint but exceptionally cold and obscure ripple emanated from the mark, spreading out in an extremely furtive manner. Like a drop of ink in a still lake, it began to expand, slowly but surely.

After doing all this, Bellardi immediately shrank back into the crowd. Head down, he pushed his way toward the outer edge, his face a mixture of fear and twisted satisfaction.

His mission was complete.

On the altar, Elizabeth turned with immense grace to face the Morning Star Bell, which had been silent for centuries.

She raised a hand, her slender, pale fingers reaching toward the cold, massive bronze surface of the bell.

In the square, all sound vanished.

Even the wind seemed to have stopped.

The breathing of tens of thousands of people seemed to freeze, all waiting for the thunderous peal that was destined to be recorded in the annals of history.

Ete I gripped his Scepter, his expression a perfect picture of anticipation and solemnity.

In the viewing area, William IV held his breath.

The Ironspine Duke narrowed his eyes slightly.

Murphy’s gaze, however, fell upon the pure white figure whose back was to him, just about to touch the Ancient Bell.

Elizabeth’s fingertips were only a centimeter from the bell’s surface.

Her lips seemed to move ever so slightly, silently mouthing a single word.

Then, her fingertips pressed steadily against the cold bronze.

There was no blinding flash of light, no eruption of Energy.

But the very instant her fingers made contact with the bell—

VMMMM!

An extremely faint, low hum—as if from the depths of one’s soul, or perhaps from the endlessly distant cosmos—rippled out silently from the Morning Star Bell.

At first, it was just an imperceptible tremor.

But the tremor swiftly intensified, transforming into a deep resonance.

Like the gentlest light, the purest water, it spread out in all directions from Chenxi Hall.

In the square, an old porter, his back hunched from years of carrying heavy loads and his spine wracked with sharp pain, was straining on his tiptoes to get a better view.

When the invisible wave washed over him, he felt a warm current pour in from the crown of his head and instantly circulate through his entire body. The chronic ache in his bones and joints, the needle-like discomfort in his spine that had built up over many years—it all began to lighten and dissipate, like ice melting in warm water.

He straightened up in astonishment, flexing his waist, his face filled with incredulous ecstasy.

Elsewhere, a child held in his mother’s arms, born with a wheezing condition that left his face blue, suddenly stopped his labored breathing the moment the wave brushed past. His small face quickly regained its rosy color. He blinked his clear eyes and let out a healthy, loud cry.

His mother froze, then hugged her child tightly, tears streaming down her face as she kowtowed repeatedly toward the altar.

Scenes like this were playing out all over the square.

An old woman who had long suffered from arthritis was overjoyed to find her stiff knuckles had become nimble.

A miner who had injured his leg in a collapse, causing him to walk with a limp, suddenly felt a long-lost strength surge into his wounded leg. He tried taking a step, and his gait was much steadier.

An old man with cloudy eyes and blurry vision felt as if a thin veil had been wiped away from before his eyes; the patterns on the distant flags suddenly became clear...

Old hidden injuries, chronic and stubborn illnesses, congenital defects—all were soothed, repaired, and mended by this gentle and boundless wave.

This was a miracle.

No!

This was a true, divine miracle.

The faithful in the square kowtowed one after another, murmuring prayers and giving thanks for Oriane’s blessing.

Murphy sat in the viewing area, his perception far sharper than that of an ordinary person.

The life auras of the common faithful in the square had indeed been faintly enhanced the moment the halo of light swept past.

It was a sign that their life’s Origin had been gently replenished.

In other words, at that moment, their lifespans had been slightly extended.