174: Chapter 174 The High Priest's Examination! The Greatest Test!

That aged voice possessed a piercing quality that chilled the soul, drilling into everyone's ears and tearing the net of fanatical faith woven across the plaza into tatters.

The roar of sound ceased.

The tribespeople, who had just been immersed in the ecstasy and piety of the Miracle's descent, froze in their tracks.

The ancient prayers rolling deep in their throats were severed by an invisible blade, leaving only a deathly silence.

Their prostrate bodies were as stiff as corpses dried by the wind for years.

No one dared to look up, no one dared to make a sound, and they even held their breath.

A fear stemming from their Bloodline and souls replaced the earlier fanaticism, pinning every one of them to the spot.

Under the gaze of the tribespeople, filled with extreme awe, the dense crowd silently parted to both sides, clearing a path leading straight to the altar.

A hunched figure stepped out, one step at a time, from the shadows of the bone tent—the core of the tribe's power, constructed from the skulls of giant beasts.

This was also a person draped in a black robe.

However, the texture and style of his black robe were completely different from everyone else's.

The fabric was an aged, dark color, as if soaked in centuries of bloodstains and dust.

The edges of the robe were embroidered with dark gold thread in intricate, twisted patterns.

Those patterns were not inanimate; under the illumination of the altar's blood-red light, they were slightly writhing, like countless venomous snakes coiled on his hem, waiting to devour their prey.

His frame was withered, his spine arched at a terrifying angle, making him appear like an ancient, giant shrimp crawling out of the abyss.

He leaned on a scepter with his right hand, walking extremely slowly, pausing with every step.

The shaft of the scepter was the complete spine of an unknown giant beast, polished by time to an ivory-like ghastly white.

The joints were jagged, and each segment exuded a chill.

As the staff dragged along the ground, it made a "Shhh… shhh…" scraping sound—dry and grating.

The sound was not loud, yet it was like an invisible hand gripping the hearts of everyone in the plaza.

Each step caused their heartbeats to tighten in sync.

At the top of the scepter was embedded a blood-red crystal the size of an adult's fist.

The shape of the crystal was somewhat similar to the "Heart of Blood Rock" in Su Changge's hand, but its color was a hundred times deeper, as thick as congealed divine blood.

Even more bizarrely, it was not static; it was beating at a fixed frequency, one throb after another.

With every throb, a ring of blood-colored ripples, barely visible to the naked eye, spread out, washing through the air and over the bodies of every tribesperson.

Su Changge, standing on the altar, felt his eyelid twitch slightly.

With every pulse of the crystal, the Qi within him was stirred and suppressed by a force, creating a sensation of stagnation.

This was the deterrence of a higher-order power.

"It's alive!"

That is no crystal; it is a living, beating heart imprisoned on the scepter!

Su Changge's gaze finally fell upon the tottering Old Priest.

The aura around him was one with this City of Bones—cold, decaying, and carrying a heavy, inseparable stench of blood.

Mixed into this aura was a unique fluctuation on a spiritual level.

It was a power tempered over long years of dealing with dead souls and sacrifices, forged from the wails and resentment of countless living beings.

As this power surged toward him, the holy red light formed by the "Divine Grace Halo" around Su Changge developed subtle ripples, as if a cold stone had been thrown into a calm lake.

This was the first time since arriving in this world that he had faced a threat so clear and so tangible.

This old man must be the Old Priest of the Blood Moon Tribe.

He was also, aside from the legendary and elusive Tribal Leader, the existence with the highest status and greatest authority within the entire City of Bones.

The Old Priest walked very slowly and steadily.

He ignored the tribespeople kneeling in droves around him, and he ignored the blood-red pillar of light connecting heaven and earth on the altar.

His murky gaze merely swept across the ground inch by inch, as if inspecting his own territory.

Finally, he reached the foot of the altar.

"Shhh…"

The end of the spinal cord scepter carved a final mark into the ground, and he stopped.

Then, with an extremely slow motion, he lifted his head.

The face hidden under the shadow of his wide hood also lifted slightly, exposing itself to the red light of the altar.

What kind of face was it?

Withered, sallow, and covered in gully-like wrinkles, it was like a piece of tree bark that had lost all its moisture.

His lips were tightly pressed together, devoid of any color.

But what was most striking were his eyes.

Under the shadows, a pair of scarlet eyes pierced through the distance and the light, landing squarely on Su Changge.

That red was completely different from the fanatical worship in the eyes of the other tribespeople.

It was a blood-red color refined by endless years of accumulation and countless slaughters and sacrifices—cold, dead, devoid of any emotion.

In his gaze, there was no awe that should be directed at a "Divine Messenger," nor the shock that should accompany seeing a "Miracle."

There was only an analytical inspection, and an unmasked, bone-deep suspicion.

Su Changge even caught a glint of greed in the deepest depths of those scarlet eyes, a greed so intense it was almost tangible.

It was the look of someone who had discovered some rare Materials in the world and was impatient to dismantle, study, and claim it as their own.

He was not looking at a person, let alone some Divine Messenger; he was looking at a collection item of immense value, waiting to be thoroughly analyzed.

The gazes of the two collided silently in the air.

One was above the altar, his white clothes purer than snow, bathed in sacred red light—a divine oracle descended from the heavens.

The other was below the altar, his figure hunched, hiding in the shadows of power—the old order of the tribe.

At this moment, the air was terrifyingly quiet.

All the tribespeople in the plaza, including the Patrol Captain who was breaking out in a cold sweat, felt a tremor that seeped from their very bones.

They did not understand what was happening, but they could clearly feel an invisible vortex brewing and taking shape between the two figures above and below the altar.

Su Changge's heart sank.

He knew clearly that the real test was only just beginning.

The Patrol Captain and these ordinary tribespeople ultimately had limited insight.

A sufficiently shocking "Miracle" was enough to make them prostrate themselves.

But the Old Priest before him was a completely different person.

He was not only the wielder of power in the tribe but also the highest interpreter of the faith in the Blood Moon God.

He had lived for long, long years and witnessed countless storms; his wisdom and methods had long been tempered like the bone staff in his hand—cold and lethal.

In this tribe, whether the God existed or not might not be important.

What was important was who could represent the God.

In the past, this person was him.

And now, Su Changge's appearance had shaken this Foundation.

This was no longer a simple question of the authenticity of his identity, but a head-on collision between the new and old authority.

To stand firm here and complete the System's task, he had to overcome this mountain before him—one that appeared withered and frail, but was actually more solid than the entire City of Bones.

This would be the first, and most dangerous, challenge Su Changge had faced since coming to this world.