181: Chapter 181 Divine Might Descends! The Light of Blood Moon Judgment!

Endless red light flowed down; the air was not hot, but rather exuded a chill that crept up from the soles of everyone's feet, climbing segment by segment along their spines.

This was not a suppression of power, but a trembling originating from the Bloodline and Divine Soul; it was the indifferent gaze of the Creator looking down upon dust.

"Thump!"

The first to kneel was a young warrior closest to the altar; as if his bones had been removed, he slammed straight onto the ground.

Immediately following was the dull sound of countless bones hitting the ground.

"Thump, thump—"

The sound of countless Bloodline Tribesmen's knees striking the earth merged into a dull wave. The brawny hunters, the women holding infants, the youths who had just completed their coming-of-age ceremony—none were an exception.

Their foreheads pressed tightly against the dirt, their bodies twitching slightly under the crushing weight of that invisible force.

Someone attempted to raise their head to peek at the sky, but having barely lifted it halfway, their eyes were scorched by the blood-red light, causing tears to stream down.

The beast-bone staff in the Old Priest's hand slipped, clattering a few times on the stone slab before falling silent.

His knees slowly bent, and on his face, lined with deep wrinkles, fanaticism and terror were inextricably intertwined. He opened his mouth, squeezing out a few discordant hissing sounds from his throat, yet he could not piece together a single complete prayer.

The entire tribe was silent as the grave.

All that could be heard was the drum-like beating of one's own heart, and the faint rustling of clothing from the kneeling crowd as the wind passed by.

The sky had split open.

A river of blood-colored light broke through the clouds, piercing straight down.

The light river must have been ten zhang in diameter, completely submerging the entire altar. The red light was so dense it was almost tangible, slowly writhing in the air, emitting a heaviness that made one's lungs feel squeezed.

Su Changge stood in the center of the river of light.

He knew clearly that this red light was merely an illusion—it had no temperature, no substance, and did not even carry a trace of energy. But in the eyes of others, what they saw and felt was already a miracle.

Those tribesmen prostrate on the ground, peeking through their fingers—what kind of scene did they see?

The youth in white stood within the divine light, his robes reflected a deep crimson, even his hair shimmering with light. Around him, visible circles of red light floated, rippling and swirling in the air, stirring up silent waves.

What made people most afraid to look directly was his eyes.

Those pupils, which should have been clear and bright, were now stained with blood, as if molten lava were churning in their depths. Anyone whose gaze met his had the illusion of their very insides being laid open for inspection.

Su Changge, however, was calm in his heart.

This special effect was truly not bad; he was really curious about where the System had managed to get such a grand display.

Following the System's guidance, he slowly raised his head.

The river of blood-colored light behind him suddenly surged.

Countless points of light gathered, collided, and merged within it, gradually tracing out a massive shadow. The shadow became increasingly distinct and towering, finally transforming into a divine shadow that touched the heavens with its head and trod upon the earth with its feet.

The divine shadow was simply too tall.

Its head almost touched the blood moon in the sky, its feet stood on either side of the altar, and every time it breathed, it caused the surrounding air currents to produce layers of ripples.

The features of the divine shadow could not be clearly seen; it had no facial features, yet that air of majesty overlooking all living things weighed heavily on everyone's shoulders.

"God..."

Someone uttered this word like a sleepwalker, their voice filled with uncontrollable trembling and longing.

"The Blood God... has descended..."

"It is the Ancestral God..."

The whispers were quickly swallowed by suppressed sobs. The older tribesmen wept with tears and mucus streaming down, the young warriors shook like chaff, and they buried their foreheads deeper into the dirt, fearing that even the slightest movement would invite divine retribution.

The Old Priest's eyes were wide open, and in his cloudy pupils, only the reflection of that deity remained. His lips moved, but he could not utter a single word.

Su Changge raised his right hand.

His movement was very slow, without a trace of worldly aura, light and airy.

Yet, the divine shadow behind him also synchronously raised that giant hand capable of covering mountains.

The divine shadow's palm opened, and a complex blood-red mark circulated and flickered upon it, releasing an aura that could stop one's heart.

A chorus of gasps rose from the crowd.

Someone could no longer hold on, their head tilted to the side, and they fainted on the spot.

Su Changge's finger pointed toward the few bound figures on the altar.

There was no expression on his face, and his gaze passed over them, landing on the empty distance, as if the existence or non-existence of these few lives was no different from the presence or departure of a speck of dust on the ground.

Then, a thought appeared, without rhyme or reason, in the depths of everyone's consciousness.

"Traitors, return to dust."

That voice did not pass through the ear canal but echoed directly within the Divine Soul. It had no temperature, no inflection, and with every syllable that fell, it made one's heart skip a beat and their chest feel stifled.

Above the blood moon, a few strands of blood-red lines suddenly descended.

No one saw clearly what it was, only feeling a flash of red light before their eyes, and those few blood-red lines had already coiled around the bodies of the "traitors."

There were no screams, no struggles, and not even a trace of energy dissipation.

Those few living people, along with the ropes binding them, began to dissolve. Skin, flesh, bones—from outside to in, from head to toe—all were decomposing into billions of invisible particles, merging into the wind.

A gust of wind blew by.

The altar was empty; no trace had been left behind.

The divine punishment was complete.

The river of blood-colored light quietly receded, and that divine shadow faded into the night sky along with it. The crushing weight between heaven and earth vanished, and the moonlight returned to its original coldness.

On the altar, only Su Changge remained, his white clothes as they were, unstained by dust.

Below the altar, there was absolute silence.

Everyone still maintained their prostrate posture, the scene that was capable of destroying everything replaying in their minds, unable to move for a time.

Su Changge's gaze landed on the Old Priest.

What kind of reaction would this old man have? Would he prostrate himself even more, or would he see through some of the clues?

However, the Old Priest's next action was completely unexpected to him.

He saw what was above?