The Hero Turned Into A Potato And The World Fell To Ruin

Yaine and the others were just casually strolling about. As Yaine had said, there was no need to hide since their presence had already been detected. If the master of this place had any objections, he would definitely come forward.

Thus, at present, the group was openly touring the training ground.

This training ground was vast. Though there were no clear markers, the layout suggested it was divided into dozens of sections, each filled with numerous Earthwalker soldiers in training.

Unlike the guards above, the soldiers and guards simply continued their training routines and paid no attention to the presence of Yaine and her group. Even if they stepped into the middle of their formation, the soldiers would simply stop and silently observe.

Yaine attempted to speak with them, but they wouldn't respond. Even Calidora's attempts to make them speak via illusions were futile.

It was uncertain whether Calidora's illusory arts were ineffective or simply didn't work on these soldiers.

The former reason made sense since they were in enemy territory, and having some form of mental protection was reasonable. But if it were the latter…

Wouldn't it mean that these soldiers were no different from mindless golems?

This unsettling thought reminded Calidora of the Tyrant's lackeys.

After passing through the training ground, the group came across several buildings with a religious flair. Upon exploring them, they found them to be extensions of the training grounds rather than dining halls or dormitories.

Each floor they checked was a large, open space filled with Earthwalker soldiers drilling.

When they finally reached the rooftop of one and looked around, they realized there were many such training grounds with such complexes scattered throughout the vast underground space.

While some appeared unused, most were densely packed with Earthwalker soldiers.

"The population here must be several times—no, dozens, maybe even hundreds of times that above…" Yaine muttered, her eyebrows furrowed as she overlooked the wide expanse.

"That doesn't make sense," Osar murmured.

"No, it makes perfect sense," Girunini replied. "What if the so-called 'martyrs' never actually died?"

"Damn it." Yaine gulped. "This isn't some godforsaken front line, and there's no army from another world. This is a full-fledged military training base."

"But… Earthwalkers don't have long lifespans," Guoguo said timidly.

At that moment, a voice came from behind them.

"Right, but only if they are still Earthwalkers." Mervant emerged from the shadows, his expression grim. "I found something. You all need to see this."

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Beneath the Sacred Tree laid a massive ring-shaped structure made of golden bricks adorned with intricate carvings.

The short foreign soldier gazed up at these carvings, deep in thought. He was trying to figure out whether this ring-shaped structure was a shrine enclosing the Sacred Tree or the cornerstone of some kind of barrier…

"Outsider, follow along," the cold voice of the priest interrupted his train of thought.

The soldier clicked his tongue in annoyance but reluctantly tore his gaze away and followed at the back of the group.

The group consisted of ten "new recruits" and one priest, totaling eleven people, walked toward the entrance of the ring-shaped structure.

Along the way, other than the two "outsiders," the eight earthwalker soldiers were visibly excited because the priest had told them earlier that god had decided to summon them because of their devout hearts and noble souls.

This was unheard of, and such an honor was enough to drive them into a frenzy.

Especially so for the scrawny young earthwalker. He was shaking with excitement and very much looked like he might faint upon seeing the god he dreamed to meet.

At the entrance, the priest lightly tapped his staff, glanced back at the group, and then knelt down before the grand door.

Seeing this, the earthwalker soldiers hurriedly followed suit, kneeling down. The two outsiders exchanged glances, then did the same.

The priest ascertained that everyone was kneeling before nodding in satisfaction. At least these outsiders had some sense before god.

He faced the front and loudly proclaimed, "Great god! Your most faithful servant, Miaari, brings new noble souls to receive your blessings. Please open the sacred door and bestow your grace upon them!"

The thickset doors began to glow with a golden light.

Then, the doors slowly opened, revealing a series of concentric ring-shaped structures descending into a central pit.

In the center stood a cylindrical altar, with a rope bridge extending from the entrance to the altar. On the altar was a statue of a young maiden, more exquisite and divine than the other ones.

As the doors opened, the statue slowly opened its eyes and smiled sweetly at the warriors.

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At the outskirts, Mervant led the group to a tall tower.

The tower was about ten stories high and several meters wide. Seven such towers were scattered around this vast underground space.

"This tower is what you want us to see?" Yaine asked, eyeing the structure warily. "I don't sense anything unusual. Is there something inside?"

"Yes, but you guys need to be prepared," Mervant replied, glancing at Liu Ji. "Your student especially. He's not like us and might not be able to handle this well."

"He's tougher than you think." Yaine shook her head. "And since he's in this world now, he'll have to get used to it sooner or later."

"Alright, but remember, no matter what we see, don't intervene," Mervant warned. "Otherwise, you'll only endanger them."

The group exchanged looks, unsure of what he meant but nodded.

After relaying the message to Liu Ji, Yaine, still feeling uneasy, grabbed his hand as if guiding a child.

The group then entered the tower.

The moment they stepped inside, a stench of waste hit their noses as the originally quiet space was immediately filled with sounds of crying.

This was the lowest floor of the tower, a large, open space filled with columns. Thorny vines extended from the columns, binding what appeared to be two- to three-year-old children by the necks.

Urine and feces covered the floor, while golden threads hung from the ceiling, ending in drops of golden liquid.

These children, despite the pain from the thorns, stood on tiptoe, greedily sucking on the drops, resembling infants feeding.