Chapter 201: What is the Right Hand of God, the Vice Lord of Heaven
There’s something phenomenal, truly phenomenal!
Watching the Evil God sculpture draw a graceful arc through mid-air before lightly landing into Rast’s hand, the cult leader’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets, his face twisted with disbelief, and he nearly coughed up blood.
After all, no matter how much of a bootlicker one might be, when he saw the goddess he had spent endless effort fawning over—cold and aloof, unattainable—actually strip of her own accord and throw herself into another’s arms... it was simply impossible not to suffer a mental breakdown.
“No, impossible, this is impossible!”
“You must have used an illusion to deceive the Lord’s holy relic! This is absolutely impossible!”
His hands trembled uncontrollably, a savage roar burst from his throat, and with shaky fingers, he reached toward his waist and gripped the handle of his pistol.
However, before the cult leader could even raise the muzzle toward Rast—
Bang—
A gunshot rang out, echoing through the entirety of the cult’s manor stronghold.
The gunfire did not originate from ahead, where Rast’s faction stood, but from behind the cult leader himself.
His face froze in utter disbelief as he clutched his back, pierced by a bullet, and his expression froze.
Then, with a dull thud like a worn-out sack falling, he collapsed to the ground.
“You damn liar!”
“You were already exposed by the Lord’s sacred relic, and yet you still tried to lash out in desperation, attempting to harm the true Emissary!”
An enraged voice erupted from the group who had previously been diehard followers of the cult leader.
Perhaps they feared he wasn’t completely dead yet, or maybe it was fury at having been deceived by him before, but those once-loyal fanatics emptied another volley into the cult leader’s corpse.
Not until his body had been thoroughly riddled like a beehive did they finally stop.
Clearly, after witnessing the earlier theological debate, the sculpture’s choice, and then the cult leader’s pitiful breakdown—
Even his most fervent followers now deemed his actions as nothing more than the desperate flailing of a man whose lies had been exposed.
The more fanatical their devotion had once been, the more unhinged their rage and hatred became now that they had severed ties.
“We beg your forgiveness, Emissary.”
“We were blind to the truth and fell for this deceiver’s sweet lies.”
“We even came close to being used by him to attack the true servant of the Lord… Please, Emissary, punish us.”
“No need.”
Faced with these traitors now begging for forgiveness, Rast only gently shook his head: “The Lord loves all mankind. So long as your faith has not faded, even if you were once deceived, you remain His faithful. You are still worthy to enter the Lord’s eternal Divine Kingdom after death.”
While speaking, Rast no longer spared any further attention to the cultists now beaming with ecstatic joy.
Instead, he focused all his attention on the sculpture in his hand, etched with blood-colored markings and now resting obediently in his palm.
This sculpture, cast in black iron, was all too familiar to Rast.
An Evil God contamination, the origin of the Iron Cross Plague… In a sense, it was the very fuse that interrupted the entire course of civilization during the Sixth Era, turning the flourishing golden age into a dark age.
During those three hundred cycles, Rast had obtained this sculpture countless times. Every detail, every line on its surface, he had long since memorized.
But back then, Rast had only just stepped into the First Tier as an extraordinary being. Trapped in Deep Blue Port, with all his supernatural knowledge self-taught, he only held a half-baked understanding of gods, Threshold of Seraphim, contamination, spiritual power…
Because of that, his use of this Evil God contamination had been shallow. Most of the time, he treated it merely as a tool to lure enemies and draw the attention of nearby Iron Crosses—nothing more.
But now—
Now that he had become a Black Night Traveler, experienced so many Nightworlds, so many Historical Echoes, even infiltrated the Gravekeepers as a spy and uncovered numerous secrets from the First Era, mythic beings, and the Age of Gods…
In terms of strength, vision, and knowledge, Rast was a world apart from his former self, once trapped in Deep Blue Port.
Therefore—
As he faced the Evil God sculpture in front of him once more, a bolder idea began to take shape in his mind.
...
“Death God?”
“You say you once sensed the aura of the Death God in a certain kingdom, and that you know the method to enter the Nether Abyss where the Death God slumbers?”
“You even know the location of the Gravekeepers’ stronghold and the whereabouts of the Eternal Night Stele left behind from the First Era?”
Restless spiritual fluctuations emanated from the black iron sculpture, continuously transmitting into Rast’s mind.
Through his testing, Rast had already roughly grasped the state of this Evil God sculpture.
Within this contamination was a residual trace of the source of the Iron Cross Plague—a sliver of the Evil God’s divine consciousness.
Although it was but a negligible strand, perhaps not even one ten-thousandth of the original, it was nevertheless a genuine divine thought. So when the cult leader previously claimed this sculpture to be the Lord’s sacred relic and a manifestation of the Evil God’s will, it was not entirely wrong.
However, due to the fact that the gods of the Present World were all confined within the Threshold of Seraphim, this residual divine thought on the sculpture was currently cut off from the Evil God’s main body by the Threshold of Seraphim and existed independently without contact.
Moreover, this Evil God sculpture had lain dormant in the deep sea for countless years before being dredged up by the cult leader, and only recently began to awaken and reactivate—its divine consciousness still sluggish and unstable.
In human terms—it was as if this strand of the Evil God’s divine thought had slept for so long it had gotten mentally dull from oversleeping, not thinking clearly for now.
And so, when Rast casually transmitted a bit of secret information about the Old Death God and the Gravekeepers using spiritual power, this sliver of divine consciousness bit like a fish on a hook.
There was no helping it—Rast was no longer the ignorant amateur he once was.
The clues he now held, touching upon the Age of Gods and the Gravekeepers, were enough to attract the attention of even a divine thought.
To the point that it immediately discarded the follower it had personally chosen—namely, the former cult leader—
And instead rushed headlong, eager and servile, to throw itself at Rast.
“Higher than the starry skies, older than the Blazing Sun, all-knowing and all-powerful, great Lord, please remain calm.”
Rast sent a spiritual fluctuation toward the Evil God sculpture.
“Even if I do know of the Gravekeepers, and the Nether Abyss where the Old Death God slumbers…”
“In your current condition—merely a sliver of divine thought—even with knowledge of the clues, I’m afraid achieving your goal may prove difficult.”
Rast spoke with the tone one might use to coax a child, slowly and patiently, one word at a time.
“Therefore, our top priority now is to complete your Descent of the Evil God ritual—”
“To allow your power to cross the Threshold of Seraphim and descend directly into the mortal world.”
“Only then, once your might descends upon the Western Continent, will you be able to act—whether it be the Eternal Night Stele within the Gravekeepers’ ranks, or the Old Death God slumbering in the Nether Abyss, with both the Star Cup and Divine Authority left unclaimed… all shall become your prey.”
Upon hearing Rast’s persuasion, the sliver of divine consciousness within the Evil God sculpture gradually calmed, no longer as agitated as before.
Of course, this calm wasn’t because it had become more intelligent or regained clarity.
Rather, it was simply that Rast’s coaxing was so skillful it gave the divine thought the impression that its new follower was exceptionally clever and capable of sharing its burden.
“My follower, your words do hold some merit.”
“In that case, let us complete the Descent ritual first and allow the power of my true self to descend into the mortal realm—this was the original plan to begin with.”
From the Evil God sculpture, threads of blood-colored markings flickered slightly.
Due to the existence of the Threshold of Seraphim, the gods confined upon it were unable to descend their power freely onto the Western Continent.
They could only exert their influence through cults that worshiped them or interfere with the Present World via contaminations.
Even so-called “Descent” came with great restrictions.
The true forms of the gods could never directly descend upon the Western Continent—the so-called Descent meant choosing a vessel and host in the mortal realm, into which a portion of the Evil God’s divine thought and power would descend, walking the world in the form of a “half-body” or “incarnation.”
Naturally, such Descent demanded extremely high standards for the vessel.
If the chosen host lacked sufficient quality and could not endure the divine power and thought, then even the strongest descent would be like a child swinging a massive hammer—incapable of wielding its true force.
Originally, the Evil God’s plan in Deep Blue Port was to unleash the Iron Cross Plague upon the Western Continent, plunging the civilization of the Sixth Era into a decline dictated by the Order of the World, entering a dark age. The Descent was merely a display of divine majesty—a means to that end.
As long as the show of force was made, the actual effectiveness of the Descent did not matter much.
Thus, the original plan had been to randomly choose a believer as the host, complete the Descent, and be done with it. After all, such vessels were disposable—once used, broken, no loss.
However, with the clues now acquired from Rast, its plans began to change.
“Descent” was no longer merely for show; it now needed its incarnation to explore the Nether Abyss, seize the legacy of the Old Death God, and even infiltrate the Gravekeepers’ organization in pursuit of the Eternal Night Stele.
Given that, the Evil God of Deep Blue Port instantly raised its standards for choosing a Descent vessel and host. After all, both the Gravekeepers and the Old Death God were entities of equal rank to the Evil God of Deep Blue Port...
If the vessel it descended into couldn’t withstand an intense divine battle with an equal-rank entity and broke apart halfway through the fight, that would just be laughable.
At the very least, casually picking one of its own believers to serve as the descent vessel was absolutely out of the question.
The divine thought of the Evil God of Deep Blue Port fell into deep contemplation.
But soon, it was suddenly struck by inspiration, its awareness brightening.
“Your soul and spiritual power… seem quite pure.”
“To serve as the vessel and host for my descent, the resilience of the soul is paramount. Only a tenacious and pure soul can endure the immense pressure of a god’s descending thought.”
“In other words, as a vessel for descent, you are the optimal choice.”
“However, this also means your body will be completely reduced to the carrier of my power, and your soul will be utterly ground to dust beneath my divine thought, never again to possess any self-awareness…”
At this point, the divine thought of the Evil God of Deep Blue Port could not help but waver slightly.
Ordinary believers were everywhere—dozens at a glance, used as disposable vessels for descent and discarded afterward without regret.
But those were the types who were only good at singing praises to their Lord… while someone like Rast, clever and sensible, capable of offering his own thoughts and suggestions, actively resolving difficulties for the Evil God of Deep Blue Port, was a one-of-a-kind anomaly among all its followers.
To use such a thoughtful and obedient talent as a one-time vessel to be consumed in the descent, even the Evil God of Deep Blue Port felt it a bit of a waste.
Once the descent was complete, it would certainly establish a massive cult across the Western Continent, even a Divine Kingdom on earth.
By then, a talent like Rast would be a natural choice as the leader of the church, the king of the Divine Kingdom, and a capable agent in ruling over faith.
Not to mention, the man harbored so many secrets about the Age of Gods—intelligence of tremendous value.
“To offer myself to the Lord, to become the vessel through which Your radiance returns to the mortal world, is my highest honor.”
Yet, faced with the divine thought’s hesitation, Rast remained devout in expression and resolute in gaze.
As though he saw right through its concerns, he spoke again: “As for the secrets I hold in my heart, once the Lord descends into my body, you need only crush my soul and extract those memory fragments directly from it.”
“My own consciousness fading, my death and obliteration—these are minor things—”
“But if such hesitation causes delay in Your divine glory manifesting upon the mortal realm, hunting down the Gravekeepers and the Old Death God, becoming the King of All Gods, the God among Gods… then that would be a sin I could never atone for, even in death.”
“Please, Lord, I implore You to allow me to serve as Your vessel of descent!”
A light of resolve shimmered in Rast’s eyes, like a lion hidden within.
What does it mean to be the Right Hand of God, the Vice Lord of Heaven, who resolves problems for their Lord? (spreads hands)