The pinpoint of light within that character 'Ge' sword once claimed to be a god. Yang Ying had dismissed it as the delusion of a feverish mind. However, Father Vandeheim was a man of profound experience and maturity; the conviction in his tone lent immense credibility to his words, demanding serious consideration.

While conversing with Father Vandeheim, the Clone simultaneously tended to the branches in the small garden behind the church. The Father held a small pair of shears, clipping back the overly vigorous foliage. He made a snip here, a snip there, seemingly without pattern, yet after his pruning, the entire atmosphere of the garden shifted immediately.

Though the small town was shrouded in winter, the garden bloomed with small, seven-hued flowers. Each corolla was composed of seven petals, arranged in the colors of the rainbow—red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and violet—vibrant as an actual spectrum. Coupled with their clear, ethereal fragrance, staying in the garden felt like stepping into a fairy tale, uplifting the spirit involuntarily.

The name of this flower is rather cumbersome: "Dingbulepu," originating from a planet outside our solar system. On Earth, it is also known as Rainbow Flower, Sun Flower, or Seven-Color Flower. It was introduced to Earth centuries ago through trade and spread rapidly. Initially, it struggled in Earth’s environment, but after several generations of genetic modification, it evolved into dozens of varieties suited to various soils and climates. The strain planted in the church's back garden was a hardy species, capable of blooming even in winter.

After hearing the topic of God, the Clone fell silent for a moment, smoothing out a cluster of blossoms while simultaneously organizing his thoughts. He then inquired, "Father, if there is a God, where is this God? Why has no appearance been recorded for hundreds of years, mentioned only in ancient documents?"

Father Vandeheim ceased his work, straightening up, letting the hand holding the shears drop to his side. He pointed toward the sky and stated, "God has left Earth."

"Gone to the stars?" The Clone also looked up. He saw blue skies perfectly complemented by white clouds; though the air was cold, the sunlight was bright—a fine day indeed.

"That is the only explanation," Father Vandeheim replied, bending down again to continue pruning. His back was turned to Yang Ying's Clone, but his voice continued uninterrupted. "At your current cultivation level, you should know that a Quasi-Master is the pinnacle of mortal achievement, separated by a fundamental gulf from a Master—this separation is termed 'Transcending the Mortal and Entering the Sacred.'

"I know," the Clone responded.

Father Vandeheim grunted. "Transcending the Mortal and Entering the Sacred is already extraordinary, but the essence of God is a tier higher than even a Master. They possess eternal life and can even shed the vessel of the body, existing purely as spirit. Gods are not subject to the erosion of time; therefore, the reason they no longer appear on Earth must be that they have departed it."

"The essence of God is higher than a Master's?" The Clone was startled, his movements momentarily pausing. He had always assumed that 'God' was merely the deification of the Transcendent-Sacred by ancient people.

A gentle smile touched Father Vandeheim's lips. "Surprised? It's alright. Most people react similarly the first time they hear of God’s existence. However, you needn't worry about God interfering with this world; minor miracles haven't been witnessed in millennia."

The Clone, having heard this for the first time, couldn't accept it immediately, but he quickly suppressed his astonishment. He spoke casually, "Father, you must have felt the same way when you first heard of it."

"Me? Certainly not!" Father Vandeheim wagged a finger with a smile. "I was born into a traditional Catholic family; my parents told me of God's existence from infancy. While my parents were ordinary people, their conviction stemmed from faith rather than concrete knowledge. Influenced by them, I believed in God long before. So, when my teacher told me that God truly exists, the only emotion I felt was joy."

The Clone nodded thoughtfully and asked further, "Father, what are Gods like?"

Father Vandeheim had just finished trimming the final cluster of flowers. He put away his shears and straightened up, speaking with casual indifference. "You can learn such things by flipping through ancient documents; those sensationalized accounts are historical facts. The spirit of God advances beyond that of a Master, possessing various divine powers—such as manifesting myriad forms, creating life, resurrecting the dead, truly omnipotent. Compared to the might of a God, a peak Master has merely achieved consummate skill in manipulating energy." He paused. "Let's stop the discussion of Gods here. At your current cultivation, you do not need to concern yourself with such matters yet."

"Understood, Father." Although the Clone's heart churned at the description of God's power, since the Father wished to end the topic, he temporarily shelved his curiosity. The other man's cultivation and experience far surpassed his own; simply being offered answers was a rare gift. Pushing further against the Father's wishes would be sheer ingratitude.

The two tidied up the few tools used for garden maintenance and returned to the church.

"John, look, there are words here. I saw them when I was very little. Even when I couldn't read, these lines made me feel so warm. Now that I'm grown and understand them, they feel even warmer. Oh, how I envy that Catherine Sinclair!"

"Jenny, don't envy them. I will love you even more."

The voices of the young man and woman reached their ears. Between the two tall stained-glass windows on the right wall, a young couple in their early twenties stood before the inscription left by Agnon. The girl lightly traced the carved lines with her hand.

The Clone recognized the couple: John and Jenny. They were to be married in this small church the following week.

"Father Vandeheim, you've arrived." The girl, Jenny, spotted them entering and jumped up, skipping toward the Father.

"Little Jenny, scouting the location with your future husband?" Father Vandeheim smiled benevolently.

"Father," Jenny murmured coyly.

Father Vandeheim spoke with the future couple for a few moments, offering them his blessing in the name of God. The Clone added a few pleasantries, and shortly after, Jenny and John politely took their leave.

After they departed, the Clone approached the inscription; he hadn't asked about these words in days.

"You recognized the spirit contained within those lines? That's right. I remember the first time I saw you, you were cloaked in invisibility right here, likely discerning it back then." Father Vandeheim walked up behind the Clone and clapped him on the shoulder.

"This Agnon, could he be one of the peak Primate Masters, that Agnon?" the Clone asked, turning around.

"Yes. That line: Agnon."

"And this Catherine Sinclair, is she human?"

"Human."

"Primate and Human?"

"Primate and Human."

Their exchange was brief, questions and answers straightforward, yet both understood the weight of the implications.

"How could this be? How could Humans and Primates tolerate such a thing? It shouldn't happen, neither morally nor biologically."

The Clone couldn't fathom it; even seeing it firsthand made one doubt its reality.

"Humans and Primates certainly would not tolerate it. That's why more events followed," Father Vandeheim stated flatly.

The Clone lowered his voice. "Could you tell me about them?"

"There's nothing interesting to tell, just some ancient, stale stories, and they have nothing to do with you." Father Vandeheim clearly did not wish to elaborate on the inscription to a passing traveler.

The Clone sensed the old priest's firm tone and let the matter drop.

However, his curiosity about the Primate Peak Master Agnon remained strong. Over the next few days, while roaming the town, the Clone discreetly questioned some long-time residents about the inscription in the church, but he gathered very little information.

The town elders were vague about how the inscription came to be, but the Clone did glean something. Compiling snippets from various sources, he learned that the lines seemed to have appeared overnight about forty years ago. Several elders recalled the small stir caused when they first saw the inscription in the church.

During his inquiries, one elder, well into his eighties, offered a slightly more valuable piece of intelligence: sometime around the appearance of the lines, he had witnessed two figures clad entirely in cloaks in the town one night. One figure was exceptionally tall, leaving a deep impression on him. It was around that time that the inscription appeared in the small church.

Furthermore, Father Vandeheim’s age was another small-town mystery. He had been in the village for at least half a century, yet his appearance had consistently remained that of a man in his fifties. The older residents seemed to find this inexplicable as well. But the town was ancient and somewhat isolated, possessing customs different from the outside world. The residents were inherently optimistic and conservative; content with their peaceful, pastoral life, they kept many secrets tucked away, never mentioning them to outsiders.

The saying goes that the vast universe holds endless wonders; unless one steps out to look, they can never grasp the multitude of bizarre people and events that exist. The Clone later surmised this might be one reason Father Vandeheim chose this town to reside in.

Two more days passed before the Clone bid farewell to Father Vandeheim. He needed to continue his journey, to see other places.

During his stay in the town, he had already gained much from Madam Brouwen’s resurgence of expression, the birth of new life, and the experiences of the centenarian Knight. Staying longer would yield diminishing returns.

After all, the Master realm was not something that could be taught.

Hearing the Clone intended to leave, Father Vandeheim said little, only repeating his plea that the Clone must not reveal his location. The Clone reiterated his solemn promise.

Simultaneously, hundreds of millions of kilometers away in Jupiter's orbit, the Earth military's operation against the Ancient Legion's last major stronghold, Io, had reached the point of no return, with arrows already nocked on the bowstrings.