Chapter 69 70

Chapter 69: Fervor

Amanda and Lydia were clearly among the more gifted, or to put it bluntly, they were humans with a higher than normal sensitivity to magnetic fields, which allowed them to easily enter a receptive state under the guidance of Cleric Laurel. This came as a surprise to Bruce, who had prepared to personally guide Lydia to ensure the Hearsts' close ties with the sect. However, this was no longer necessary.

But that didn't mean Bruce was idle, as he had a second, equally important objective. He glanced at Amanda, who was relaxed and focused, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he closed his eyes.

It took Amanda Hearst only two to three minutes to re-enter that familiar ethereal state. Soft, mysterious ripples silently emerged in her consciousness. Though they had no physical form, she could sense their presence.

It was a perception beyond the traditional senses of hearing, smell, sight, touch, and taste, indescribable and unlike any ordinary experience, but undoubtedly real, not an illusion.

If it weren't genuinely miraculous, how could it attract elites like Amanda Hearst? At that moment, she was savoring the experience, drifting in that marvelous sensing state as if her thoughts were infinitely expanding, merging deeply with her subconscious.

But then something unusual happened!

Although the enlightenment guidance was in itself extraordinary for humans, this time it was even more peculiar, differing from Amanda's previous experiences.

The normally calm and gentle ripples seemed to undergo some strange changes, not just in form but as if seeking a deeper blend with her. And without her reacting, they disappeared without a trace.

However, Amanda soon realized she was mistaken. The strange ripples hadn't disappeared but had merged into the sea of her consciousness, becoming part of her without existing independently, yet omnipresent.

It felt as though all her secrets were laid bare, achieving a complete fusion of the soul, a transcendent reaction beyond all form and consciousness, sending shivers down her spine, making her want to open up entirely to this never-before-seen, millions of times more exquisite than any sensory experience.

This profound and intoxicating feeling made one linger, reluctant to let go.

Therefore, even though such a scenario had never been mentioned in previous introductions or materials, Amanda didn't open her eyes. After a brief hesitation, she fully let go, embracing the experience without any discomfort.

She couldn't imagine that all the ripples received by the attendees were emitted by Cleric Laurel. She alone was the exception.

Amanda Hearst was different from individuals like Fowler Marcos, Gilbert Gordon, and Lowell Lockheed, who either had strong ambitions and pursued beyond human capabilities or had no choice due to their dire circumstances.

From the beginning, Amanda was very wary of Bruce. Being one of the few humans with a strong sensitivity, it was no wonder she could become the female heir to the Hearst Corporation. If she were subjected to forceful mental control, it could damage her consciousness, reducing her to a mere puppet, significantly diminishing her value.

Thus, to dismantle Miss Hearst's formidable guard, Bruce took advantage of this enlightenment ceremony to personally implant a branding, embedding a deep-seated mental suggestion. Amanda Hearst would only think it was a peculiar change in her sensations, never suspecting the cunning calculations behind it, much less guessing that Bruce, who seemed skeptical of Enlightenment, was the actual practitioner.

So when she opened her eyes again, aside from an even stronger sensory enhancement than before, there was a change she was utterly unaware of—her feelings towards Bruce were no longer as repulsive.

In Amanda Hearst's eyes, Bruce Lee, this peculiar man, seemed to transform into a giant, colorful, beautiful halo. She couldn't see the dazzling brilliance that ordinary people couldn't reach, but she could feel his extraordinary presence, compelling her to feel a closeness, eager to experience that overwhelming vitality.

"My goodness! This is incredible! I feel so much lighter, the colors, sounds, and layers—it's like my nearsightedness has completely vanished, no, it's far beyond that. The whole world in front of me looks entirely different!"

Lydia Hearst, experiencing the enlightenment ceremony for the first time, was as astounded as everyone else, unable to close her mouth.

"I admit I was prejudiced before. This feeling is too wonderful!"

Bruce opened his eyes at the right moment, smiling at Amanda, whose heart was pounding. She found the man before her filled with a bewitching charm, drawing her in irresistibly.

As they left, the atmosphere among the three had become much more harmonious, but they were soon drawn to a commotion in the consulting room.

"Let me make myself clear! I don't want to queue up every week, waiting for your notification. I don't care how much I sponsor you, but the enlightenment guidance must be scheduled on my time!"

A tall, thin man in an expensive suit was imperiously speaking to the consultants, his attitude sending a

 clear message to those around him—his confidence and status were unquestionable.

"Another one." Amanda Hearst stopped, her pretty eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head. It wasn't the first time she had seen such a scene. "Every time, you see many people hoping to receive special treatment in the sect through their status or wealth. It's a crazy pursuit, but once we've experienced it ourselves, it seems only natural."

"Oh? Wouldn't the sect mind? After all, so many clerics, staff, and daily activities, and venues, all require substantial expenses. Just slightly prioritizing someone's position, they have no reason to refuse." Bruce smoothly continued the conversation, with Lydia nodding along.

Even in her view, it was a normal occurrence. The imbalance between wealth and power naturally stratified people, even in various sects, usually just in a slightly more subtle manner, not so blatantly.

"It seems there hasn't been a precedent yet. Enlightenment is very special."

Amanda Hearst's gaze swept across the open door of the consulting room, clearly seeing the hall capable of accommodating hundreds of people crammed full, with hardly any space left, everyone squeezed together. Only the loudly shouting man in the suit had some space around him, but given the several tall, muscular men in dark sunglasses beside him, obviously bodyguards, it was clear they had forcibly cleared the area.

By late October, New York was quite cool, not feeling hot at all. But in this overcrowded hall, the central air conditioning was still blowing cold air, yet no one felt cold or uncomfortable, reflecting the lively scene. Every person was desperately craning their necks, talking to the consultants about something, with countless arms waving in the air, reminiscent of vigorously sprouting weeds in spring, recklessly growing upwards, striving for sunlight, dew, and more soil.

The neatly dressed, smiling consultants were continuously busy answering phones, with at least two telephone sets in front of each, so they were practically speaking nonstop, rarely having time to immediately respond to the questions from the followers in front of them, only able to constantly raise their hands to signal for them to wait a moment, showing apologetic smiles.

"This... is a bit too much, isn't it? Have these people gone mad?"

Lydia Hearst widened her beautiful eyes, seemingly frightened by the bustling and noisy scene. She had never imagined that an activity akin to psychological counseling could attract so many people.

A similar bustling scene, she had only seen in front of food banks, during economic downturns when Americans, after paying rent, had no money left for food, queuing to receive free relief meals.

However, the two scenarios were fundamentally different, as the families, elderly, and unemployed collecting relief meals were often silent and mechanically lined up, their expressions uniformly filled with fatigue, disappointment, and stiffness.

In contrast, these jostled Enlightenment followers, although sweating and suffering from sore necks and raised arms due to long durations, always had joy, excitement, and anticipation shining on their faces. This genuine, irrepressible enthusiasm made every onlooker want to follow their steps, join the vibrant crowd, and see what wonderful things were attracting them so fervently.

Chapter 70: Faith

"Crazy? I'd be surprised if they weren't," Amanda said with a laugh, turning to look at Bruce, reading a similar sentiment in his eyes.

"Think about the incredible effects of the enlightenment ceremony we just experienced. Not only does it relieve mental stress, but it also helps with improving sleep and alleviating pain. And to achieve such miraculous effects without any drugs or devices, all for just 10 dollars a session, what could be a better deal than that?" Bruce took over the conversation, expressing the thoughts Amanda had intended to share.

"Ten dollars! Unbelievable! Don't they have operating costs?"

In the eyes of most Americans, whether it's a sect or a charity organization, it's normal to charge a fee to sustain operations. Bruce had told Lydia to arrange everything but hadn't discussed the details, so she was hearing about the fee structure for the first time. Her surprise was evident as she looked around at the crowded room, understanding why this place was so popular.

But as old doubts disappeared, new questions arose. Such cheap and effective psychological counseling was understandably popular among followers, but what did the sect rely on to operate? She found it hard to comprehend Enlightenment's approach, considering the fee barely covered the cost of two hamburgers.

The noise in the hall had gradually subsided as most people stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to the man of undeniable stature, drawn by his exaggerated actions and loud voice, curious to see what the wealthy man was arguing about with the staff.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Peter Bartholomew, but this arrangement has been carefully considered. Normal people are not suited to too frequent enlightenment guidance. The frequency of once a week has been proven through repeated trials to be the most suitable for the human body. And we treat all followers equally. We do not provide special treatment based on one's status or donations. I hope you can understand."

The person he was facing was a young, beautiful woman with her long hair neatly tied back, who looked quite pleasant. Despite appearing somewhat intimidated, she firmly stated her position. The other followers around them, mostly ordinary people, showed expressions of happiness, satisfaction, and schadenfreude upon hearing her.

"Child, I advise you to reconsider. I believe the clerics would be willing to make a reasonable exception in the face of this hundred-thousand-dollar check," Peter Bartholomew said, slightly frowning not out of fear of provoking public anger, but from impatience. He waved his hand, took a checkbook from his bodyguard, swiftly signed a check, and handed it to the female consultant.

"I'm paying a higher price; shouldn't I receive better service?"

Peter Bartholomew looked around at the bystanders. Hearing his statement, they didn't know how to respond, and no one openly objected.

Even if some were resentful, they felt that this annoying rich man wasn't entirely unreasonable. Paying such a high price seemed to justify some special treatment, at most they would just grumble about it enviously.

Perhaps the presence of several large bodyguards around Peter Bartholomew also played a significant role in deterring objections.

Seeing the reactions, a flicker of triumph appeared in Peter Bartholomew's eyes. He nodded at the beautiful consultant to hurry up and follow his instructions, then contentedly took a puff of his cigar. In his view, since none of these impoverished folks dared to object, his request would most likely be granted.

Now is the age of capital, after all—who would dare defy Benjamin Franklin?

"I'm truly, truly sorry, Mr. Bartholomew, but the sect has its rules, and we cannot treat anyone differently for any reason. All followers must be treated equally," the female consultant said, clearly nervous and unaccustomed to handling such situations, but she bravely stood her ground under pressure.

"I'm not asking for unequal treatment! Paying proportionally to what one receives, isn't that the essence of American fairness?" Peter Bartholomew, growing annoyed, pointed a finger almost touching the girl's face, feeling he was being perfectly reasonable yet unable to get through to these stubborn minds of Enlightenment. "I'm tired of this argument. Who's in charge here? I want to speak to him directly."

"Please don't make it difficult for our consultant, sir. I believe you are a reasonable man and should adhere to the rules of our sect," a soft, clear male voice chimed in. Although not very loud, it was enough to make everyone in the hall listen attentively, and they spontaneously cleared a path for the speaker.

"Look, it's Cleric Lancelot!"

Someone in the crowd shouted.

"Ah, Cleric Lancelot, hello." Peter Bartholomew's demeanor became much more courteous upon recognizing him. Clerics of the Enlightenment sector were scarce, and it so happened that Lancelot had personally conducted his enlightenment ceremony.

Having personally experienced the strange and wonderful sensations, he naturally held a measure of awe for these mysterious clerics. "I believe I'm not being unreasonable, Cleric. I'm willing to pay more, simply hoping that my respect for your efforts is considered when scheduling ceremonies and activities."

"I understand your feelings, Peter. But you must realize that we are still very short-staffed, especially in terms of clerics, who are too few to accommodate personal schedules. And as Rose mentioned, the practice-proven frequency of once a week is most suitable for most people's constitutions. Everything should follow its natural course; there's no need to rush."

Cleric Lancelot was a strikingly tall and handsome man, his features soft and charismatic, his fiery red hair complementing his demeanor without seeming out of place. His attire was the same as the others in the sect, distinguished only by the four golden rings at his chest—while other clerics conducting the enlightenment wore only three.

He approached the desk where the consultant Rose was seated, encouragingly touching her smooth forehead with his fingertips. She immediately showed a delighted and flushed expression, clearly holding him in high regard.

"Isn't a hundred-thousand-dollar check enough to make some adjustments? What if I were willing to donate two hundred thousand dollars? Could you consider it then, Cleric?"

Peter Bartholomew's expression changed several times, still speaking with a hint of reluctance.

Cleric Lancelot, towering over him, slightly bowed his head and after a pause, suddenly said, "You should have the educational materials and doctrines brought back from the church, Mr. Bartholomew, right?"

"Um? Yes, of course."

Peter Bartholomew was somewhat confused by the sudden shift in topic, cautiously responding. Despite his considerable wealth and usual authority, he couldn't help feeling somewhat suppressed in front of Cleric Lancelot, who subtly controlled the pace of their conversation.

"I guess, however, you haven't looked closely at the sect's tenets, especially the sixth one," Cleric Lancelot said with a smile, glancing around. "My friends, could someone tell Mr. Bartholomew the content of the sixth tenet?"

A new follower in the hall quickly picked up a copy of the sect's tenets and read aloud, "We should not halt our progress; the true sign of advancement is not making the rich richer but ensuring that the poor no longer endure hardship!"

"Thank you, my friend. So, Mr. Bartholomew, do you understand?"

Cleric Lancelot nodded in thanks and then refocused his attention on Peter.

After hearing this, Peter was momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected the sect's ethos to be summed up in such a statement. Though somewhat moved, he remained skeptical, having heard many such slogans with few ever realized. Yet, Peter held back any immediate rebuttal.

When he looked up again, the expressions on the faces of everyone around had changed. If before, when he spoke of paying for value, the followers seemed hesitant to argue or took it as commonplace, now, after Lancelot's appearance and especially after hearing the tenet, their eyes sparkled differently.

Especially their looks towards Cleric Lancelot, filled with anticipation, admiration, and reverence, had taken on an almost hysterical fervor.

This prevented Peter Bartholomew from voicing his objections. Suddenly feeling uneasy, he forced a smile and swallowed hard. For some reason, he felt like he was at the center of a storm, the surroundings slowly brewing a profound vortex. While outwardly unchanged, a palpable force seemed to be forming, ready to surge and engulf him at any moment.

"Mr. Bartholomew, it just so happens I have a doctrinal seminar starting soon that I think would be perfect for you. Why don't you come and see what it's like?"

Cleric Lancelot didn't seem inclined to continue arguing. He gently patted Peter's shoulder, and the latter, somewhat sluggishly, nodded in agreement and followed him, along with his bewildered bodyguards. Left behind were the low cheers and moved cries of the followers, and the buzz of conversation resumed.

But almost no one noticed that as Lancelot left, he discreetly nodded towards the door.

Standing at the doorway, Amanda, Lydia, and Bruce, along with many others, had watched the entire event unfold and then silently continued on their way out.

"It's somewhat embarrassing to admit, but I also tried to negotiate with the sect for better treatment through a large donation. Looking back, it seems rather vulgar compared to the clerics' enlightenment," Amanda suddenly said as they nearly reached the sect's exit. "

I've heard these clerics are like ascetics, without any desire for material things or worldly pleasures, largely unaffected by mundane life, spending most of their time within the sect. I initially thought it was just a promotional tactic, but the more I see, the more I believe that the clerics truly are people of firm resolve. Perhaps only those who place spiritual pursuit above all else can achieve a new enlightenment for humanity."

"Yeah, I really wonder what kind of great person could establish such a miraculous sect," Lydia added, her voice tinged with complex emotions.

Bruce, following behind them, heard every word clearly but remained silent, very pleased with the effect his creation had produced. Even well-off, self-interested individuals like Peter Bartholomew and Amanda were shaken, which only meant that the impact on those in desperate need of spiritual support would be even more ideal.

Humans are like that, always too eager to hope for the pure and beautiful, even though they insist on skepticism. Yet, they are easily enchanted by the immediate, and unwittingly, their wills falter.

The most important thing to remember is that most people forget: there is no absolute good or evil in the world. When something seems almost too perfect, that's precisely when you need to be most wary.

Superstition doesn't truly exist; it's merely the reinforcement of beliefs. Habit is a terrifying thing—once followers grow to trust the sect, they'll take every proclaimed word as the truth. Even if one day they find contradictions with reality, they won't suddenly see the light; instead, they'll think their faith wasn't strong enough, that they were the ones who were wrong.

Because faith, as the most fundamental aspect of oneself, cannot be shaken. Once it is, it's akin to denying all the long-held beliefs and efforts, a consequence more unbearable than any other.