Work Prophet
Chapter 325 - 83: The Magical Spontaneous Combustion

Chapter 325: Chapter 83: The Magical Spontaneous Combustion

The slender bottle that Clara had requested arrived at dusk the next day, its inner walls were polished to a gleam, and it was engraved with the Divine Pattern of the Silver Moon Church on the outside.

Afterward, the little maid found a iron rod, roughly the same thickness as the mouth of the bottle, and wrapped it with sheep intestine, which fit perfectly in the gap between the ceramic jar and the iron rod.

Clara tried prodding the bottle with the iron rod a few times to get a feel for it.

Priest Herodotus stood aside, watching the little maid scurry about, ensuring she wasn’t up to any tricks during the process.

Meanwhile, Ruby helped Clara by handling some minor tasks.

Once the preparations were almost complete, the little maid took out a ball of white material from her pocket.

Just as she was about to place it in the bottle, Priest Herodotus stopped her.

"What is this?"

"Cotton." Clara said, "It’s from a cotton garment that I took apart."

Ruby also confirmed, "I helped her take it apart."

Priest Herodotus examined the ball of white material closely, pulling it apart to see if anything was hidden inside, and then sniffed it.

He didn’t smell anything strange, so he returned the cotton ball to Clara and asked,

"What sign are you planning to show me?"

"I will drop this ball of cotton at the bottom of the jar. Then, you can commune with the goddess and ask her the doubts in your heart. If the goddess’s reply is affirmative, the cotton at the bottom of the jar will catch fire; if not, the cotton will not burn."

"Burn?"

"Yes, during this time, I won’t start a fire, nor will I go near any sources of flame."

"Then the cotton inside the jar will ignite on its own?" Priest Herodotus asked again.

The little maid nodded, "I wonder if such a sign would satisfy you, High Priest Herodotus?"

Priest Herodotus furrowed his brow. As the keeper of the vast archives of the Silver Moon Church, he spent most of his free time reading, having become one of the most learned people in the world.

Still, no matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn’t figure out how the cotton at the bottom of the jar could be lit without fire.

This indeed could be deemed a divine sign sent by God, and so Priest Herodotus gave a slight nod of approval.

He personally dropped the ball of cotton into the ceramic jar, "My first question is a simple one," Priest Herodotus then said, "I would like to ask the goddess if I am destined by fate to lead the Silver Moon Church."

Ruby’s face changed immediately upon hearing this question, because although Priest Herodotus’s question was phrased doubtfully, he had long known the answer and was immovably convinced of it.

In other words, Priest Herodotus was not actually seeking an answer to this question; he merely wanted to see if the cotton in the jar would truly burn to determine whether Clara was deceiving him.

Ruby did not know whether the little maid had also realized this, and with Priest Herodotus present, she could not give Clara any hints.

Fortunately, the latter seemed relatively calm at that moment, save for her right hand which kept trembling slightly, she displayed no signs of distress. She even gestured to Priest Herodotus to make contact with the goddess first.

Priest Herodotus didn’t dawdle; the materials needed for the ritual had been prepared by him long ago.

When night fell and the Silver Moon just appeared, Priest Herodotus lit the pile of incense in the bronze bowl. Then, amidst the drifting smoke, he sat cross-legged on the ground and began to pray meditatively.

His elongated pupils, in the midst of the smoke, flickered in and out of visibility, gradually losing focus as if drifting off to a faraway place.

Had he reached the Divine Country? Ruby didn’t know, but it seemed that Priest Herodotus’s journey to the Divine Country was not going smoothly; his face remained expressionless the whole time.

Nevertheless, he earnestly completed his prayer.

And just as he uttered the last word, Clara, with all the strength she could muster, thrust the iron rod in her hand violently into the clay pot.

She drove it to the bottom and quickly pulled it back out.

The little maid didn’t even have the chance to look inside the clay pot when Herodotus was already standing up and walking over.

He snatched the clay pot from Clara’s hands and looked inside.

Immediately, his pupils contracted sharply!

On the other side, Ruby’s heart also leaped into her throat as she waited for Herodotus to announce the result. However, she then heard him command, "Search her."

Ruby acknowledged the order, but before she could take a step, she heard Herodotus’s voice again, "Not you, Nema, you go."

Upon hearing this, Nema promptly walked up to Clara, who was already cooperatively raising her hands.

Nema was thorough in her search, from head to toe, even checking under the fingernails, but no matter how many times she searched, she didn’t find anything suspicious.

Fire scythe, fire tinder, gunpowder—none were found; the little maid was as clean as could be.

In the end, Nema could only shake her head at Herodotus, whose brow furrowed even more.

Moments later, he spoke again, "The second question..."

"I’m sorry, but only one question can be asked per day," Clara interrupted, "Merlin said that Gods also dislike being disturbed frequently, and you wouldn’t want to be disliked by Pisya, would you?"

"Then we’ll ask tomorrow," Herodotus said. After giving the little maid a deep look,

he turned and went back to his own room.

Ruby could hardly believe her own eyes. Once Herodotus had left, she finally had the chance to approach the clay pot. She saw that the cotton inside had disappeared without a trace,

leaving behind only the ashes of something that had been burnt.

Ruby was deeply shocked. She had been standing not far behind Clara the entire time, watching everything clearly. The little maid had done nothing other than poking the clay pot with the iron rod.

She hadn’t come close to any source of fire, so how did the cotton in the pot catch fire?

Could it really be a sign sent by the Gods?

But Ruby felt that, even if this was a response from the Gods, it should have come from Saturday, not Pisya, as Clara clearly knew this would happen from the beginning.

Saturday... could it really be that magical?

Ruby thought back to the stories Clara had told her. She had been skeptical about the authenticity of these tales, but now she was beginning to waver.

If Saturday could cause the cotton in a clay pot to combust on its own, then maybe the moving shadows on the walls were also real. And there was the magical little frog that Clara always talked about with fondness—the one that would disappear into thin air and return with gifts...

All of a sudden, Ruby too wanted to see Green Field with her own eyes, to witness that magical land and the Foreigner known as the Prophet.