Chapter 450 – Gods (End) The Scheming of Deities

Unit 1101, Block 12, Riverside Estate. Si Qi leaned against the window of the second bedroom, listening as the footsteps outside the door drew nearer.

A bomb within ten metres could reduce a target hiding behind the door to dust, yet the Investigators clearly had no intention of taking his life.

Whether because of new orders or simple complacency toward a once-dangerous being now reduced to mortality, a voice blared through a loudspeaker: “Qi Si, you are surrounded. Cease all hostile actions, lay down your arms, and surrender immediately. Otherwise we will resort to force and cannot guarantee your safety.”

Qi Si’s body was known to be outside Jiangcheng, yet both the order-upholding Bureau of Anomaly Affairs and the terrorists bent on destroying the world had chosen this place as their final battlefield, throwing every last Chip into this great millstone. Si Qi suddenly realised the one who had calculated against him was playing for enormous stakes; Lin Jue and he were both pawns in the same trap.

He would draw the Bureau’s gaze, while Lin Jue would expend the Sea God card ahead of time; after the deicide both would lose their anomalous powers—all so that when Qi Si returned to this world, nothing would bar his ascension to the one and only throne.

He laughed until he could barely breathe. “Seems someone has finally caught on. Planning to take me alive? If I’m not mistaken, Lin Jue is probably more afraid of my dying here than I am.”

The people outside seemed deaf to his probe; the loudspeaker merely repeated its prerecorded line: “Qi Si, you are surrounded. Cease all hostile actions…”

“Surrender so you can cage me on the fifth sub-basement?” Si Qi’s grin only widened, brighter than ever.

He raised his voice, declaiming like a leading actor on stage: “Rather accept such a dull finale, I may as well die this very instant.”

Annoyed as he was at being deceived, if he had to pick a final victor between Lin Jue and Qi Si, Si Qi hoped it would be Qi Si. After all, they shared the same memories, thoughts and choices; if either died, the other could carry on as the continuation of his life, free to keep overturning this wretched world.

The French window slid open; white rain, which had dissolved the Sea God’s divinity, drifted in, and a dense mantle of divine power buoyed his body. Si Qi stepped onto the sill. Thirty metres above ground, the gale roared, the young man’s black hair and long suit whipping like flags, broken feather-like blood-drops streaming behind him.

The door behind him burst inward; as it gave way he strode forward and leapt. The Investigator yanking the door open caught only a grey-black silhouette plunging from the window, its after-image streaking like a meteor’s tail, the rebounding raindrops flying backward in its wake.

Earth rushed up to meet him; blood surged into his skull, his vision briefly whiting out. The instant his body struck the ground pain flooded every bone, yet Si Qi heard no impact—he guessed his ears had been deafened by the force.

Warm blood gushed out, all its heat leached away by the cold rain, the chill making him want to shiver. He was still alive; gods die no more easily than they live. In Jiangcheng—newly turned divine killing-ground—the Sea God’s lingering power ceaselessly mended the wounded.

He struggled to his feet and stumbled toward the back gate of Riverside Estate as he remembered it. Sight returned step by step; the world of black, white and grey slowly tinted with other colours, proof the Sea God’s influence was fading.

If he could last until that divinity fully dissipated, and the Bureau hadn’t caught him by then, he could still find a way to kill himself and send Lin Jue’s plan spiralling out of control. The thought alone made Si Qi want to laugh three times aloud.

A figure in a black suit and rimless glasses stepped through the back gate; Lin Jue levelled a long gun, blocking the fugitive’s path, the rain and fog blurring the lenses.

Si Qi guessed the weapon held tranquilliser darts—enough to subdue him without killing him.

At this range a miss was impossible. Lin Jue raised the gun; Si Qi had nowhere to dodge and could only instinctively arch backward.

A grey shadow burst from the corner without warning, throwing itself in front of him. As it turned its head, Si Qi saw Lin Chen’s face.

The Undead Shepherd had wandered mindlessly for a long time, drifting directionless, drawn by the faint sense of the Soul Leaf until he reached Jiangcheng.

Now that the Sea God had fallen in the city, every ghost, mystery and aberration within a hundred li had perished with him, and the Soul Leaf’s presence had vanished. Yet Lin Chen had also slipped out of his Ghost state and regained human awareness.

He had just come to his senses, standing in the cold rain, bewildered at finding himself in an urban estate instead of the snowy mountain he remembered, when he spotted a young man in a red suit running pell-mell and Fu Jue levelling a long gun on the other side.

Almost instinctively he stepped between them; as darkness closed in, his last words to the youth were: “Brother Qi, run…”

Si Qi sprinted deeper into the compound. A crimson jeep smashed through barriers and fencing, skidding across his path. As he raised his pistol, the window rolled down to reveal a white-masked face—Charlie Woodward, holder of 【Despair Scriptwriter】.

“Magnificent performance, but it’s intermission now,” Charlie declaimed theatrically, the door swinging open of its own accord. “Mr. Zhou Ke, you’d best get in quickly.”

Lin Jue, delayed for only a heartbeat, was closing in again, gun rising to aim at Si Qi’s back. No path lay open; riding with Charlie meant at least a different possibility than falling into the Bureau’s hands.

Si Qi vaulted into the rear seat. The door slammed shut to the thud of tranquilliser darts against metal. Through the rear-view mirror he met the hollow eyes of the mask. “Where are you taking me?”

“Fragrance City,” Charlie chirped merrily. “Next comes a hair-raising chase: we smash through Supporting Roles and cannon-fodder to reach the harbour and sail to Fragrance City.”

“Yes, a delightfully theatrical little fishing boat is waiting there,” he added, voice airy with anticipation.

Si Qi understood: Charlie had been sent by the Balance Guild. The White Crow, inheritor of the Ancestral God’s will, had arranged everything at the harbour outside Jiangcheng; once Charlie spirited him out, they would ferry him across the river to the Guild’s headquarters.

What she would do with him after that he had no idea, but at least he would have plentiful chances to kill himself—far better than rotting in a sunless containment cell.

The jeep floored the accelerator and rammed toward Lin Jue, who had foreseen the move the instant the bulky vehicle began its turn; he nimbly leapt back, smashed through a ground-floor window with his shoulder, and vanished into the darkened room beyond.

The road ahead lay wide open; speedometer needles kissed 120 mph, tyres whipping up spirals of pooled water that rose skyward, then rained back as a local cloudburst.

Charlie, needing no instruction, flicked on the stereo and cranked up a jaunty rock anthem.

“Don’t need reason, don’t need rhyme,

Ain’t nothing I’d rather do,

Goin’ down, party time,

My friends are gonna be there too,

I’m on the highway to hell…”

Charlie roared along to the tune, yanking the wheel with savage glee. The scarlet jeep tore through the chaotic streets like a runaway beast, black wipers thrashing as fresh sheets of rain blurred the windshield—like a combat sub slicing through an undersea storm.

Slumped in the back seat, Si Qi was flung about like a rag doll. Rainwater and blood from countless wounds soaked his clothes, splattering the white upholstery a dirty crimson.

His skull kept smacking the window; his bones felt ready to shatter. Veins bulged at his temples until he finally snapped: “Do you actually know how to drive?”

“Of course! Easiest thing in the world!” Charlie sang, happily swaying. “Two hours ago White Crow told me which pedal’s the gas and which one’s the brake.”

Si Qi: “…”

Not far behind, Investigators who’d tracked his radio chatter surged in pursuit, gun muzzles trained on the jeep—yet no one dared fire.

Military trucks and armored cars massed at the road’s end, equally reluctant to close in. Forcing a speeding vehicle to stop risked a fatal crash, and no one could guarantee that Si Qi—already resigned to death—would survive it.

Charlie rammed the jeep between two army trucks. Sparks flew as metal screeched against metal; a spray of flame spurted from the exhaust, only to die in the rain.

Sirens kept a measured distance. The Investigators’ cars tailed the jeep at breakneck speed, like hyenas circling a lion’s carrion—wary yet unwilling to let go.

The barricade at the on-ramp had been removed—Lin Jue’s doing, no doubt. The jeep sliced through the rain curtain with a sound like surf; silver spray dazzled the eyes. Suddenly a huge shadow loomed ahead.

A black Lamborghini rocketed toward them against traffic. At the last meter it swerved, sideswiping the jeep.

“Damn it—” Charlie’s curse was cut short the next instant.

In the Godfall Land, every being is mortal save the gods themselves. With three hundred thousand humans dying in traffic accidents each year, Charlie was simply about to become another statistic.

A thunderous boom, a violent explosion. Friction heat ignited engine and fuel tank; flames swallowed both vehicles in the blink of an eye.

Si Qi lifted his gaze. A youth in a black hoodie pushed the Lamborghini’s door open and walked through the inferno, golden eyes reflecting the blaze.

It was Li—more precisely, Li housed within Chang Xu’s body.

Tongues of fire licked up his sleeves, a tide of flame spreading across black fabric. Cloaked in fire yet seemingly immune to pain, he strode to the jeep’s rear and tore the warped door aside.

Si Qi’s ribs and organs had been rammed out of place by the blast; blood laced with bits of viscous tissue trickled from mouth and nose.

Agony raced along every nerve until numbness set in. He slumped, unable to move even a finger, and managed a laugh. “You don’t look too god-deprived right now.”

Li answered seriously, “This body is superb; it can manage even without divine power.”

Understanding, Si Qi chuckled. “So what are you here for? Doesn’t look like a rescue.”

“Half a month ago you told me to be ready—to kill you today.” Li raised a hand to Si Qi’s throat and squeezed.

Darkness crept in from lack of air, yet Si Qi couldn’t suppress a manic urge to laugh.

Now he saw Qi Si’s entire scheme. Clearly the man had withheld the memory of his talk with Li; with such an info gap this had never been a fair game.

Gods are hard to kill, but beings of equal stature can do it—hence Li’s appearance now, to end a life that had served its purpose.

A crushing grip cut off his laughter, leaving only a rasping rattle as seamless darkness swallowed his sight.

The easing rain was replaced by a fresh downpour; eerie, occult silence spread from Rivercity to the surrounding towns.

Li withdrew his hand. Fire wreathed him entirely as, unfeeling, he vaulted the rail of the elevated highway and plunged into the roaring river in a streak of gold and crimson.

Bureau of Anomaly Affairs vehicles halted twenty meters away, their occupants stonelike as they watched the abrupt assassination. No warning, no announcement—too sudden to stop.

Si Qi was dead. The dangerous man who had thrown the world into chaos was simply… gone, killed before their eyes by a face they knew, the whole scene surreal.

Only when the flames guttered out in the torrent did the Investigators remember to drive closer. A rear door of an armored car opened; Lin Jue stepped out and hurried to the jeep’s burned-out shell.

The broken bodies of Charlie and Si Qi were fused fore and aft inside the wreck. Two exquisitely engraved cards solidified above them, wrapped in golden chains that marked them nullified.

One card showed a black-robed figure atop a pile of skulls, cradling a black notebook from which blood streamed to form a rivulet at his feet.

The other glowed blood-scarlet: a crimson-robed bishop with downcast eyes held a massive black cross before a dark congregation.

【Despair Playwright】 and 【Crimson High Priest】—of the same path as 【Eyes-Closed Autocrat】.

Lin Jue pocketed the two Identity Cards and glanced toward the harbor.

Whether Chu Yining’s prediction came true, a more urgent problem remained: before Qi Si reappeared, the Ancestral God possessing White Crow had already set foot on this land.

Li Yunyang limped from the car, half-hopping to stand behind Lin Jue. After staring at the corpses she murmured, “Senior, will Qi Si return to this world? And if he does… what then?”

Lin Jue looked back, rain beading on his lenses and magnifying the rare gravity in his grey eyes.

He stayed silent a long moment, then gave the faintest shake of his head. “I don’t know.”