Chapter Seventy: The Followers' Expectations

Four thick roots burst forth from the ground beneath the eye of the storm, instantly unfurling all their attendant fine tendrils. These tendrils spread and interwove, forming what seemed to be a colossal human-like hand. Four such giant hands, from four directions, simultaneously reached for the clump of grass suspended more than a hundred meters above the ground within the storm’s eye.

The grass clump, sensing the threat, became acutely aware of the danger and attempted to climb higher within the whirlwind. But it was too late. Ji Yu, already prepared and lying in wait, had anticipated the tornado’s approach; the roots erupted from the earth at speeds surpassing sound. The tremendous burst of force blasted the soil below, and the hands formed by the roots gleamed with an intense verdant light.

Within mere milliseconds—matching the grass clump’s reaction time—these four enormous palms had seized its lower half. A tearing sound followed. The beast formed by the roots, suffused with green radiance, was like a muscular giant suddenly flexing every sinew, ripping open a net with unstoppable strength.

In an instant, the grass clump shrieked; a terrifying gash appeared at the bottom of the massive sphere. At that very moment, a root, already poised, darted through the fissure, plunging into the grass clump’s interior. Its fine tendrils exploded outward, swarming like an army of ants invading a termite nest—madness, invasion, entanglement, pulling, slaughter. Chaos erupted within the grass clump.

With the addition of the other three roots, the spherical mass began to swell and contract, rising and falling like a gigantic soft-bodied bomb.

Finally—

A thunderous explosion shook the earth. The grass clump detonated. The once-black tornado, destabilized by the sudden blast at its core, spun out of control. The shockwave, far exceeding what anyone could imagine, hammered against the oak’s emerald shield, causing it to crackle under the energy's strain. On the other three sides of the oak, the tornado’s explosion plunged the landscape into an apocalyptic peril. Dirt was cleaved away, the air vibrated, and shockwaves rippled outward across the wasteland.

The gale howled, slicing through everything in its path. Wind like blades, thunderous noise—no weak terrestrial life could escape the sudden devastation. When the storm subsided and the purple moon revealed itself once more, Ji Yu surveyed the surroundings and realized the wilderness around the oak had become a pitted, post-apocalyptic expanse. Within sight, the entire region was ravaged.

Witnessing the horror, even Ji Yu—the architect of this destruction—could not help but feel awe and worry. Should a creature like this grass clump descend upon Blue Star and invade a city, Ji Yu could envision the annihilation of an entire city in a single instant. The tornado conjured by the grass clump was akin to the destructive power of a nuclear bomb.

If unable to fly or burrow underground, Ji Yu saw no other way to counter such a tornado. Fortunately, the grass clump encountered the oak—such a mighty lifeform, capable of manipulating roots and detonating the storm’s core. Were it humans, Ji Yu believed that only satellite bombardment or a massive cache of TNT buried deep underground could possibly destroy it; otherwise, there was no solution.

Radish creatures were weak; away from the earth, they could not even resist firearms. Yet, under the corruption of the purple moon, these seemingly frail beings gained the ability to aggregate. Their terrifying power now rivaled even the oak, a formidable second-tier lifeform.

Ji Yu compared the grass clump to the oak and drew this conclusion. Thinking of the swarms of slugs on the gourmet street, and the grotesque, intelligent tumor-headed giant birds that cared nothing for humans, Ji Yu began to feel dread—for the world of the purple moon.

Staring at the purple moon in the sky, Ji Yu’s heart was heavy, but he slowly unfurled the oak’s canopy, loosening its gathered branches and leaves. The crown opened, the jewel flower blossomed anew, and soon tranquility returned. At the same time, Ji Yu released the people bound by the roots.

Looking around at the apocalyptic landscape, Simon was so shocked he could not speak. Not only Simon—many who had just survived the crisis sat weak-kneed on the ground. All stared vacantly at their surroundings, only gradually regaining their senses.

“It seems we have underestimated the dangers of the purple moon world,” Fanny Campbell said, her mood somber. Yet as she gazed again at the oak, her eyes burned with renewed fervor.

Approaching the oak's trunk, Fanny Campbell sought to steady her excited heart and finally bowed in respect: “Great mysterious tree, thank you for your mercy. Fanny Bard offers you the highest reverence and wishes you ever greater mastery along the path of nature. Also, please forgive Barton Fanny Campbell’s rashness. The world is descending into chaos, evil is corrupting nature, and your faithful followers are now lost and confused. We yearn for your guidance; may your compassion continue to show us mercy.”

Fanny Campbell spoke devoutly, and Ji Yu listened. Ji Yu understood her desire to obtain intelligence about the purple moon world from the oak, but how could he answer when he himself knew less than the authorities? Her request truly put him in a difficult position.

Of course, Ji Yu could choose not to respond, but since the oak possessed spirit, and the druid order to which Fanny Campbell belonged was devoted to the oak, it seemed wrong for the oak to remain silent. Moreover, the oak’s stable foothold in West York depended entirely on the druid order’s advocacy and influence; treating a faithful organization so coldly was inappropriate.

Ji Yu didn’t know how to respond, but he could hand the matter over to Adam. In the sea of consciousness, Adam had silently observed his father and everything around him. He watched as his father eliminated the grass clump and the threats of the purple moon world, but he had not spoken. Out of respect, Adam refrained from speaking rashly to his father.

“Child, your followers need your answer. Go on—you should know how to interact with your believers now,” Ji Yu thought, feeling a bit awkward yet maintaining the image Adam expected of him. Ji Yu wished to live up to Adam’s expectations, so he adopted the persona of the father Adam wanted.

“Yes, Father. I know what to do,” Adam replied. He knew nothing about the purple moon, but he would not ask. He understood that he must rely on himself to comprehend the world and the unknown, not to ask his father like an ignorant child. That would make him seem clueless and incompetent.

Thus, for the first time, Adam consciously began to respond proactively to the expectations of his followers.