Chapter 395: Holy City (20) Execution Day

When the Day of Judgment arrives, God will show miracles to His believers; martyrs will ascend to heaven, and apostates will fall into hell.

—The Book of Revelation

Above the temple, the tumor-like fruit beneath the golden flowers was the new god’s body, a divine body without a divine soul, making it the best vessel to receive the Ancestral God’s spirit.

The attraction from the netherworld was about to form, but a new interfering factor appeared a second earlier. The Forbidden Scholar Identity Card was undoubtedly a better fit, and Veidt’s soul was almost torn in half, one half being pulled towards the tumor by a powerful attraction.

“Hmph, interesting. Am I going to become a god while lying down?” Veidt’s face, which had shown the lingering fear of escaping death and the indignation of being coerced, now transformed into a crazy interest, whether due to his nature or the contamination of other forces.

He scrambled towards the tumor, but the Forbidden Scholar underwent a new change during the process. The black figure on the card, grotesque like a scar, faded at a visible speed, and its connection to the authority of time and space quickly thinned, instantly jumping to the path belonging to the Ancestral God.

At the same time, Xiao Fengchao and Asakura Yuko’s voices rang out simultaneously: “Wake up, don’t embarrass the ‘Forbidden Scholar Brigade’…”

The attraction of spirit and flesh merging suddenly broke. Veidt seemed to lose his sight, spinning aimlessly on the spot. A pure white thread reconnected between the tumor and the Ancestral God’s phantom, but the brief delay was enough. Qi Si plunged the divine chisel into the tumor, his arm following deep inside.

A tragic shriek echoed through the dome, and golden blood gushed out. The life force of the newborn divine body was instantly drained by the old god. The Ancestral God quickly retracted the threads that had captured the tumor and turned to walk towards Veidt.

Veidt bent over, gasping for breath, his eyes rapidly flashing through historical fragments, his ears filled with the murmurs of ten thousand years. He heard people’s prayers and sacrificial music, and saw countless figures of white-haired, white-robed women.

The one with a huge body, holding a golden fruit; the one crouching by the stream; the one lightly touching tiny humans with her fingers… A primal urge to prostrate himself arose in his heart, as if all the god-tier NPCs he had seen in the past were evil gods usurping their positions, and only this being was the one true god from the birth of heaven and earth until now.

Silver-white threads sliced the space into fragments. The woman walked towards him. For a moment, he couldn’t distinguish between reality and illusion, only hearing a voice declare in a judgmental tone, “I shall revive in your body.”

Light spider silk wrapped around him layer by layer. His consciousness blurred, but at a certain moment, a cold sting suddenly jolted him, irresistibly bringing him back to clarity.

Fu Jue had appeared in front of him at some point, placing a pitch-black cross pendant over his head, its tip digging deeply into his flesh.

A prompt quietly appeared on the system interface: “Your identity has been changed to ‘Son of God.'”

Previously, Fu Jue had manipulated Thomson to take the position of Son of God, bringing this identity under his control.

Now that the Puppet Threads on Thomson had been removed, he officially became deceased. The Son of God identity was released, and the Holy City would have to find another candidate for the Son of God.

Father Laki, who presided over the appointment of the Son of God, was already dead. Simply placing the cross symbolizing the Son of God around anyone’s neck would make them the Son of God.

Veidt’s left eye was its original sapphire blue, reflecting Fu Jue’s indifferent expression; his other eye flickered with an eerie silver-white, much like the whites of a dead person’s eyes.

He gasped for air, his mind struggling between extremes and peace, as spider-silk-like hair rapidly grew on half of his body, striking towards Fu Jue’s face.

Fu Jue remained unmoving. A yellowed parchment scroll flew out from his embrace at the opportune moment, unfurling between them to the height and width of the temple gate, blocking all counterattacks.

The record of “The Son of God Nailed to the Cross” ascended from the paper. Twisted strokes, like withered vines, wrapped around Veidt’s other half of his body.

Veidt understood almost immediately what Fu Jue intended and raised his hand to pull at the cross around his neck, but he was restrained by the threads belonging to another entity.

The white threads receded from his body like a tide, changing direction and surging towards Qi Si, who was connected to the sundial by blood-colored vines not far away.

The rustling sound of snakes and insects crawling came from behind his ear. Qi Si did not look back. The vines in his sleeve tightened further, and the brilliant golden sundial shattered into thousands of thin pieces in the last second, rapidly turning crimson before his eyes and dissipating into a rain of blood in the air.

With the authority of time and space internalized as part of his body, in that instant of time stoppage, Qi Si replaced a segment of the Holy City’s history.

Hundreds of years ago, a young priest returning from the East District prayed to God: “Great Holy Lord, can you forgive the poor and reduce the offerings they must pay?”

God coldly said to him: “To forgive one is to forgive all, otherwise there will be resentment and chaos; to forgive all is to lose their faith, and they will demand more from me.”

The priest said: “Lord, all of us believe in you. If you grant us grace, we will love you as we love our parents!”

God said: “You do not believe in me, you only fear me. Your love is not sacrifice, but demand; I do not need love, it is unstable and worthless, not even as lasting or interesting as hatred.”

The priest asked: “Are the poor destined to lose protection and die in darkness? Lord, how pitiful they are!”

God lowered His gaze, without joy or sorrow: “God does not love the world.”

In the new timeline, the priest was disappointed in God. Believers were not saved by God and died prematurely of hunger. The Ritual lost its foundation, and a paradox emerged.

The previously stable space violently vibrated. Figures from different timelines intersected and overlapped, then shrieked in terror upon seeing each other.

Human screams and the gibberish of high-dimensional beings intertwined. The pure white figure was torn into fragments, then reassembled and plunged towards Fu Jue.

Fu Jue put away the parchment scroll in mid-air and threw it back at Qi Si. The half-activated record of “The Son of God Nailed to the Cross” ceased to function midway. Veidt staggered back a few steps but couldn’t relax for long.

As Qi Si caught the parchment scroll, he flung out the Cursed Pendulum, wrapping it around Veidt’s neck and dragging him forward, his fingers tightly clamping his throat.

On the flat ground before the cross, only Fu Jue and the Ancestral God’s phantom remained. The two puppets and Sigmund, newly possessed by Puppet Threads, retreated to the side, awaiting orders.

Silver-gray spider silk emerged from Fu Jue’s fingertips, intertwining with the white threads floating in the space, and the two figures began to merge.

At the moment of overlap, Qi Si said to Veidt, “Now, as the ‘Son of God,’ declare Fu Jue a heretic.”

…Six hours earlier, after Fu Jue explained the effect of the record “The Son of God Nailed to the Cross,” Qi Si understood his plan.

In the Holy City instance, there were a total of four entities that could serve as the Ancestral God’s body: one was the newly formed tumor, and the other three were the holders of the Identity Cards.

The Ancestral God’s first choice would undoubtedly be the completely risk-free tumor, but the tumor itself, being connected to the authority of time and space, might be attracted by the Forbidden Scholar Identity Card. This provided Qi Si with an opportunity to delay the Ancestral God’s actions and dispose of the tumor.

The Ancestral God reacted promptly, using the contingency left in the Forbidden Scholar card in the past to corrupt the entire Identity Card. Veidt thus jumped to the path of the Lord of Life, and lacking many trump cards himself, naturally became the Ancestral God’s second choice.

However, because Fu Jue had made him the Son of God in advance, and threatened him with a record that could put the Son of God to death at any time, the Ancestral God could only settle for a lesser option, choosing either Qi Si or Fu Jue as the vessel for possession.

And no matter who He chose, the other person could, by coercing Veidt, point out the opponent’s heretical identity, thereby achieving the indirect execution of the Ancestral God.

“I don’t want you to be the one nailed to the cross in the end.” At that time, Fu Jue calmly said to Qi Si, “The plan has a chance of failure. The rules of the Holy City may not supersede the Ancestral God. If you, as a divine body, are possessed by Him, it will only make the situation in the Final Dungeon more unfavorable.”

Whether as a god or as a human, Qi Si could not understand an existence like Fu Jue.

Lacking the desires inherent in human instinct, harboring a self-righteous ideal of salvation, arrogantly arranging everything. No personality, no likes or dislikes; as long as it was beneficial to the situation, even former enemies could calmly set aside grievances and cooperate.

It was as if… he had lived himself into a god, or more accurately, the Ancestral God before the Feast of the Gods.

That similar quality was precisely the target of Qi Si’s malice. But he was also happy to cause trouble for the Ancestral God through temporary cooperation.

So, he smiled: “Such a great sacrifice, even I can’t help but feel a hint of admiration for you.”

…At this moment, Veidt frowned: “No, is Fu Jue really a heretic? If he isn’t, wouldn’t I die with him if I chose wrong?”

Qi Si said, “Fu Jue is indeed a heretic.”

Veidt looked suspicious: “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

Qi Si raised the record paper in his hand and showed a gentle smile: “In ten seconds, if you don’t make a decision that satisfies me, I will kill you immediately.”

Veidt: “…”

Fu Jue pursed his lips, silent, leaning back against the cross. Pure white feathers and fish scales began to spread from his ankles and wrists to the rest of his body, growing wildly like summer shrubs in the soil of flesh and blood.

The threads between heaven and earth converged, piercing the skin and drilling into blood vessels. The flowing blood was completely absorbed, not staining the feathers and fish scales red.

It was a strange and grotesque scene. Veidt felt phantom pain on his skin with just a glance. After averting his gaze, he looked at Qi Si with shock: “You want to kill a god this way? What a crazy decision, how dare you…”

Fu Jue remained expressionless. From his demeanor and eye color, it was impossible to discern the progress of the Ancestral God’s fusion with him, as if this was how he was meant to be from birth.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on Veidt. The pattern of a spiderweb was reflected in his silver-gray eyes, and delicate fish scales flickered at the corners of his eyes.

Veidt knew that if things continued to develop like this, and the Ancestral God fully revived, he would still be unable to escape death. It would be better to risk his life and gamble with the two of them… So, he raised the cross pendant around his neck and said, word by word, “I believe Fu Jue is a heretic.”

Language was the most primitive spell. The spoken words triggered the switch of the Ritual, and the game entered the judgment process.

Dried blood seeped from the tall black cross, turning a dirty brown. The believers were all dead, no one gathered here, no one shouted slogans, and the execution happened in silence.

More feathers appeared on Fu Jue, dragging him downwards like ropes, as if to press him into the ground. Blood overflowed from Fu Jue’s lips, yet he slowly and undeniably raised his arms, pressing them against the wooden frame behind him.

A sharp, long nail appeared out of thin air, piercing vertically through his wrist, through the wrist bone, and into the hard wood. Crimson blood dripped from the wound, pooling into a shallow puddle on the ground. A few broken feathers slowly floated on the blood, gradually sinking.

The Ancestral God’s parasitism showed a flaw. Veidt’s heart couldn’t help but stir, and he softly uttered the words “execute.”

Inspiration caught the sound of glass shattering, and an ear-piercing howl exploded on the soul level. Blood flowed from the eye sockets of the three puppets, yet they made no reaction; Fu Jue had temporarily lost the leisure to control them.

Qi Si walked towards the cross, plunging more nails into Fu Jue’s body. Large gushes of blood poured out, and those that couldn’t be diluted stained the white feathers on him a faint red.

A newly revived spirit should theoretically be unable to withstand this level of damage. The feathers and fish scales began to recede, flowing back into the sky like a celestial river, making a whooshing sound like angels flapping their wings.

Fu Jue had not shown any superfluous expression from beginning to end, as if the pain on his body had nothing to do with him. Until now, he suddenly looked up at the sky, a hint of solemnity appearing in his eyes.

“It failed,” he said.

The Ancestral God had left his body without suffering decisive damage. All the previous plans and arrangements had come to naught.

Fortunately, the authority of time and space was already in hand; the initial goal had been achieved. Dealing with the Ancestral God was just an additional step, and even if it failed, it wasn’t a complete loss.

A phantom of the Sea-God Scepter appeared in Qi Si’s hand. Spirit and flesh, using the anchor point planted in the Game Space, locked onto the destination for teleportation, about to leave this dimension.

But… it was too late.

The feathers in mid-air rapidly spread like ulcers, then scattered across the sky, falling like a rare blizzard of goose feathers. All paths, whether abstract or concrete, were blocked.

The white-robed, white-haired figure solidified in the snow, her emotionless silver-white eyes scanning every living being between heaven and earth, her gaze physically enveloping all existence.

A feeling of powerlessness, enveloped by an invisible force, affected everyone. Qi Si bore the brunt, his pupils dilating repeatedly, as if he would sink into an eternal, dreamless sleep at any moment.

The price of calculating the Ancestral God had always been heavy, especially since the revived Ancestral God had learned malice and hatred… Blood seeped from Qi Si’s body, forming crimson waterfalls beneath his black robe. Dense pain, like a spiderweb, covered him, as if he would disintegrate and turn to dust in an instant.

The woman walked towards him step by step, feathers blooming into flowers beneath her feet, scattering strangely shaped animal corpses. Life and death coexisted in a marvelous way in the same room, and could be bestowed upon any living creature in this world at any time.

Qi Si stared fixedly at the woman, then laughed: “Oh, long time no see. It seems you weren’t unconscious during your time in death.”

All sounds and smells were cleared, including the temple and cross backdrops, and the execution scene. Spider silk intercepted sound, light, and color from the outside, and the world returned to its simplest essence, giving rise to an unsettling feeling of being lost in eternal nothingness.

In the pure white space, in absolute silence, the woman solemnly declared: “I shall revive.”

“And then?” Instinctive fear leaped, senses were stripped away, vision blurred with blood, yet Qi Si’s smile was radiant. “I already knew that. Do you have any other news for me?”

The woman said nothing, merely extended a finger to lightly touch Qi Si’s forehead. The silver thread pulled by her fingertip pierced his wound.

After two seconds of silence, She asked in a bewildered tone, “What happened to your divine body? Why is your blood red?”