Chapter 214.2: In the Darkness Part 2

A long silence followed. Everyone held their breath and waited until, at last, an extremely reluctant voice came over the channel.

“No-Fun, in position.”

Someone had forgotten to mute their mic, and a soft laugh slipped out. Pfft.

That was the thing about codenames: everyone else chose them for you. The person involved had no say. It was like a little game to loosen up before battle. No matter how solemn and rigid Tong Shan was, he couldn’t stop everyone from finding a bit of fun in their misery. Although he resisted the codename with every fiber of his being, the team had passed it by unanimous vote, so he had no choice but to accept it.

“A vehicle is approaching. Everyone, stay alert,” Xu Guan, also known as Gossip Junkie, warned quietly over the channel. “Mechanic, are you ready?”

“Ready.” Ji Jue grinned and pulled the bolt. Lying prone on the soft mercury dustproof mat, he shifted the muzzle and vaguely aimed at a battered truck driving in from the distant street up ahead.

He couldn’t help but frown. What kind of garbage was that? The Heretic Cult was such a large organization, yet they couldn’t find a single person who knew how to repair a vehicle?

From the tires to the suspension and then to the chassis, not a single part looked decent. It had probably been scavenged from some junk heap in Spring City and cobbled together. If it could move, that already counted as a success. It wouldn’t have been strange if it broke down completely in the very next second.

After the truck came to a stop, a large crowd of disheveled people immediately climbed down from the rear cargo bed. Every one of them was sallow and emaciated. Some, under the effects of aberration contamination, had already mutated and were barely clinging to life.

They were short on food and clothing, looking like tormented prisoners. Yet their expressions were unbelievably fervent and joyful as they rushed over one another to enter the bank.

Ji Jue watched them in silence and sighed soundlessly.

“Don’t feel sorry for them,” Tong Shan said over the radio. “They’re fanatics of the Heretic Cult. There’s no bringing them back. Even if you rescued them now, they’d only blame you for interfering and keeping them from reaching heaven.”

“I know.” Ji Jue pressed the remote control without hesitation.

From a distant, crumbling ruin on the verge of collapse, an explosion occurred. A moment later, the structure snapped in the middle, caved in, and sent a vast cloud of dust billowing into the air. With the thunderous crash, the crowd on the street was thrown into chaos. Screams broke out.

That sudden commotion drew many gazes. Even the streams of light overhead shifted as something turned its attention toward the site and swept across the area.

But very soon, the attention from all sides vanished without a trace. It was merely the collapse of a dangerous building, something far too common. There was no telling how many such structures existed throughout Spring City. Besides, Ji Jue had spent several hours calculating the directional blast, and had not used much explosive at all. What few traces he had left were soon buried beneath dust or scattered by the wind. There was no way to find any evidence.

At the same time as the abandoned building collapsed, under the cover of the deafening noise, no one noticed the suppressed gunshot from Ji Jue’s hands. He had fitted the rifle with a makeshift mercury suppressor and deliberately reduced the powder charge.

When the bullet flew out, it barely made a sound. At best, it sounded like a muffled fart.

The moment it was fired, it shredded its layers in the wind, breaking apart until it left behind nothing more than a faint trail of dust. By the time it struck, a skeletal man within the slightly chaotic crowd merely staggered and fell to the ground. He was completely unharmed. Even he thought that someone had most likely shoved him in the confusion.

After getting back to his feet, he patted the dust from his body, glared angrily around at the innocent and mocking faces nearby, and muttered something under his breath. He didn’t dare make a fuss. They were already before the sanctuary. Who would risk throwing a punch and disrupting its solemnity? Being punished was one thing, but if he were stripped of his right to serve the Lord, that would be a loss far greater than any gain.

And so, each of them carried the same unrealistic dream, their minds filled with thoughts of heavenly rewards and the satisfaction of endless desires. One after another, they eagerly lined up beside the guide, overjoyed as they walked into the darkness of the bank like livestock queuing up for the processing line.

Only, as he entered, he couldn’t help but scratch his back. It seemed a little itchy. As for when a handprint had appeared on his filthy, tattered clothes, no one cared.

***

“Damn it! It’s been this long, and there’s still no response!” the furious priest roared in the bank vault. “Does no one care at all? Stop pretending to be dead and say something!”

Around the blood-soaked altar, the officiants stood drenched in sweat, heads lowered, too frightened to make a sound.

Only the subordinate most favored by his side mustered the courage to explain. “Please calm down, Priest. We have followed the old rules exactly. By rights, at this point, the Lord should basically have descended already, but... but...”

But who could have known?

Batch after batch of sacrifices had already been offered. The incense had been burned. Every prayer and ritual had been performed. So why had the usually responsive Upper Abomination suddenly fallen completely silent?! Could it really have chosen this of all moments to demand a higher price?

“It m-must be the Wheel-Turning Sacred King[1] testing us!” His lips trembled. “As long as this new batch of sacrifices is offered, the Sacred King will surely be satisfied and show us even greater favor.”

The priest looked at him expressionlessly, his eyes shot through with blood. At this point, this was the only explanation left. No matter how earnestly they invited and called out, no matter how many batches of sacrifices they offered, the Sacred King, who had once been so responsive, now gave them not even the smallest reply.

The priest asked, “Did one of you break the rules somewhere? Did you anger the Lord?”

Left with no other choice, the panicked subordinate did not hesitate to dump the blame on a dead man. “It must be that bastard Lian Cheng’s fault! For a while, the Sacred King’s responses have grown fewer and fewer, until It stopped responding altogether. That bastard must have offended the Sacred King somehow!”

“What use is saying that now?” the priest asked coldly. “Increase the scale. Offer more sacrifices. Call every believer here. If the Sacred King truly refuses to come forward, then we may have no choice but to force Him to answer.”

“B-but...” The subordinate stared blankly. “What if the Sacred King’s wrath descends?”

The priest gave him a grim look. “What do you think the sacrifices are for? What exactly are you reluctant to lose? Those few followers of yours? Do you have any idea what will happen to you if we fail here? A prime sacrificial lamb like you isn’t easy to come by!”

Hearing those chilling words, the subordinate couldn’t help but shudder. He lowered his head and dared not hesitate again.

Batch after batch of believers were driven up onto the altar.

Some struggled, crying for their parents. Some pushed forward eagerly, desperate to go first. Others hesitated in terror and unease. But no matter what state they were in, once they were sent onto the enormous altar, they would fall into delirium and hallucination. Then, in ecstasy, they would crumble into ash, devoured clean by something unseen, leaving only thick blood to drip slowly from the “dinner plate” and spill over the edge.

And in that daze, one of the attendants maintaining the altar suddenly shuddered for some unknown reason. Had he just heard... laughter? It was so faint that it almost sounded like a hallucination.

On the empty wall, a battered door appeared out of thin air and swung open. Beyond the doorway, behind that ragged curtain, darkness churned. Slowly, a deathly pale, smiling face leaned out and looked at him.

1. The Wheel-Turning Sacred King (known in Sanskrit as Chakravartin) is an ideal, universal monarch in Indian and Buddhist mythology who rules the world justly without force. According to tradition, this supreme ruler magically acquires a divine, 1000-spoked wheel that secures universal peace and prosperity. In ancient Buddhist scriptures, including the Dirgha Agama, the mythical king possesses the same 32 physical marks of perfection as a Buddha. The legend states that at birth, if such a ruler chooses a secular path, they become a Wheel-Turning King; if they renounce the world, they become an enlightened Buddha. ☜