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Chapter 310 Secrets of the Past

Late at night, the lights from the palace still shone and illuminated the dark clouds as well as the boundless ocean in the distance. Amidst the sound of the lift, the carriage drove into the stillness of the palace square. Soon, a servant ran over to guide the dignified man on the carriage.

"What time is it?" Lancelot asked.

"Two o'clock in the morning, sir," the servant responded reverently. He opened the gate for him. After Lancelot silently walked into the gate, the servant remained in place, not daring to see the direction of his departure but closed the gate for him.

As Lancelot walked, doors opened in front of him one by one. In the end, there were no more ornate décor, exquisite paintings or carpets, but only a serene air in the corridor.

Lancelot pushed the door open. The chandelier was always bright and there were only one table and several chairs in the room. The seats were filled with people; only the one left for Lancelot was empty.

An iron box and several ashtrays were on the table. The iron box looked unadorned but there were many cigarettes piled in the ashtray. Hearing the sound of the door, someone looked over.

Most of those men were old, well-dressed, wore glasses, and looked dignified. They sat in this lifeless and cold monotonous room without looking out of place. They were like statues that had always belonged there. Waiting in silence, they did not speak to each other. They just smoked and pondered silently, patiently.

This was the "chamber" that all of Anglo talked about. It was the core of the empire and the legendary place full of conspiracies, bloodshed, and secrets—the Privy Council of Anglo.

It was originally the supreme information institution that reported only to the king. It was composed of the king's think tank to formulate political and diplomatic strategies, and the beginnings and the ends of the war.

Then the king transferred more and more authority to their hands. Now, it had become the highest administration in Anglo, a political organ composed of the royalty, ministers from National Defense, Foreign Affairs and Internal Affairs, as well as the Privy Seal.

The last time so many people were summoned here late at night by the royal family was decades ago. Everyone looked dignified as they had last time, but there was the feeling of slight inhibition this time.

Either consciously or unconsciously, all eyes fell on the iron box in the middle of the table with uneasiness, but also solemnity as if they were looking at their enemies. The box looked like a solid iron block with no lines or emblems. It was very smooth but with sharp angles. There were no openings or cracks at all. But after looking for a long time, people would feel that the iron box was squirming and exuding a disturbing aura.

"I’m sure that the purpose of bringing everyone here today is quite clear," Maxwell started bluntly. "Then I won’t waste any time. Let’s just take a look at this—the worst situation now." Maxwell stretched out his hand and pressed the iron box. He looked up at the others.

The secretary of state was silent for a moment and placed his hand on it too. He was followed by the foreign minister. Finally, Lancelot took off his glove, exposing a hand covered with scars, and pressed down on the iron box.

When the identities of five people were verified at the same time, there was a crisp sound in the box like cranking gears. The complex gears started to turn. With slight tremors, many cracks suddenly appeared in the smooth surface. The box shrank until it became a stylobate-like object. The thing that was sealed inside was finally exposed to the pale light.

On the black iron stylobate was a glittering crystal prism—alchemists had melted iron and silver into the purest metal and turned it into glazed gold by transforming the nature. It looked like a crystal but not even closest explosion or shock could damage it.

It was used to make the windows and glass of politicians' cars. Its good lighting could allow people appreciate the scene outside through the glass while still feeling a great sense of security. However, no one felt safe right now. Amidst the gasps, an eerie sensation spread through their bodies.

Under the cold light, what the prism sealed was a bloody face. One could not tell what that face was like. It looked human and inhuman at the same time, like the face had not developed completely. It was not beautiful but when one looked at it. They would feel the beauty of life. That horrible beauty overwhelmed people’s souls, making them unable to move.

It was solidified in the glass as if it was sleeping but the creeping granulations and capillaries spread above it and penetrated the entire crystal prism, turning it into heterogeneous flesh. The tiny veins were like purple-red tentacles, slowly growing and winding the prism. The exposed parts were slightly undulating as if it was alive. This d*mn thing was breathing!

"A few days ago, it was just a piece of dried out fingernail-sized meat," Maxwell said. "Now, as you can see, it has felt the calling of the body and come back to life."

The people there looked at it in amazement, finally snapping out of their daze. Even though they had been prepared, seeing everything was still unbelievable.

The foreign secretary stared blankly at the prism in the iron box and reached his hand to touch. "Is this real?"

"Don't touch it!" Maxwell held his wrist quickly. The man’s fingers had almost touched the tiny creeping tentacles but were yanked away.

"It's not something new and fun, sir." Maxwell's eyes were terrifying. "Living things are nutrients to it.You will be sapped dry."

The foreign secretary withdrew his hands as if he had been shocked by electricity. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his fingers though he had not touched anything yet. He stared at that thing with horror.

The secretary of state smoked in silence. After a long time, he said, "Is it really that thing?" His voice was hoarse, sounding unpleasant but with a gloomy and dignified breath.

"Yes." Maxwell nodded, gazing at the prism that was turning into flesh and blood. "It is one of the four natural catastrophes, Leviathan, the monster whose fate is entangled with the kingdom of Anglo. Gentlemen, we are in trouble." If there was anything that would make this group of powerful people so frightened, this was the first thing.

Since the founding of the nation, the scourge of natural catastrophe, monster of monsters, the shadow that shrouded Anglo—Leviathan had begun to revive! Having just solved the infiltration and conspiracy of the evil gods, they had to confront this now. It was awful!

Lancelot pulled out a cigar from his colleague's case but hesitated. Rather than lighting it, he put it back in the end. Covering his mouth, he coughed softly and wiped the blood from his mouth. He asked quietly, "How long do we have?"

"Archbishop Mephistopheles told me that the power of Westminster Abbey can maintain this for five years at most. After five years, we will have to face the enemy that had killed countless of our ancestors." Maxwell's expression was grave. "A true catastrophe will befall the world."

Hearing this, everyone's face turned pale. Five years? It was not enough at all...

Five years was enough to make a man rise up, earn a fortune, and become an influential millionaire. Five years was also enough to train a group of elite soldiers; it was enough to make a group of students achieve success and become the best musicians.

Five years was enough to build countless weapons and launch wars to plunder countless cities or states and accumulate priceless wealth. But what could a country do for five years? For a natural catastrophe, five years was so short. That was even truer for mankind.

"It’s too short." The defense secretary put out his cigarette and lowered his eyes. "The time’s too short."

The Three Saints, Three Pillars God, Four Living Creatures...they were the monsters standing at the top of all natural catastrophes. When compared with the senseless 'phenomenon-level' natural catastrophes, they may be less destructive on the aspect of pure force. However, there must be something very scary about them since they could be ranked at the top of all natural catastrophes, As one of the Four Living Creatures tied with Hecatoncheir and the Dark Mother, Leviathan did not have the omnipresent divinity like the Three Pillar God, but it also did not require descending and risking the aetheric sea. These creatures did not exist in the aetheric realm but in the material world. Once it was truly resurrected, Anglo would face something that had entirely come to the world and could freely use all its power without any limitations. Imagine a monster that could perform natural catastrophe level music scores with a wave of the hand.

"No way to stop it?" someone asked.

"Sir, we have our limits." Maxwell shook his head grimly. "We don't live in a world where we can get everything done by shouting hot-blooded slogans."

"What about Hermes? He's charges so much consulting fees every year. Will he just stand by?"

"He says he has a way but Her Majesty forbade him to step in."

"Why?"

Lancelot met Maxwell’s eyes and explained, "Hermes behaves absurdly and is not trustworthy. He has no loyalty either. If he is allowed to step in, it will only get worse."

"Then we just wait for the war?" the defense secretary asked.

"Yes." Maxwell nodded.

"Then...the break of the Royal Fleet’s seal should be put on the agenda. I don’t wish to have a bunch of useless men when I have to fight a natural catastrophe."

"The Royal Family is ready. Except for the key number zero, the rest of the Stein Chamber will open one by one."

"Let all these years of accumulation gradually turn into strength. This year, Avalon’s great enchantment will be fully restored to the power of Kingdom Come’s era. Otherwise, we have no chance at all."

"The holy spirits of the grandmasters should also begin to be awakened. Five years should restore them to their current level. How many saints’ bodies can we gather?"

"The Three Kings should not stay out of the western defense. If we fail, no one will be able to get away."

Someone thought for a while and asked, "Where is the Sword in the Stone?"

"It is still in the Jianlan Underground Palace. It was already very reluctant to force its power last time."

Maxwell rolled up his sleeve and showed them the cracks on his wrists and arms. Those cracks were like burning glows, stinging people’s eyes like coal burning in the stove. "It's not just the sword. I have also reached my limit."

"So, where are we going to find the final weight?"

"Guixu."

During the long silence, Lancelot suddenly said: "St. George's Spear is still in the Guixu. Do we have to negotiate with the Sacred City to retrieve this artifact?"

"Guixu..."

Everyone became silent. In the silent room, the faint sounds of wind blowing in vortex echoed.

Sometimes, in order to retrieve the things of the past, people had to dig out the secrets buried in the past. But once the tomb had been dug, was anyone else willing to look at the bloody and dirty secrets?