283: Chapter 277 God!

Walking on the path to the King's bedchamber, Andre suddenly recalled Jarvis's mockery from half a month ago—"You’re about to kill him, yet you still call him Father King?"

Andre understood the meaning behind those words clearly; it was nothing more than contempt for his hypocrisy.

Father and son were already at each other's throats, yet he still wanted to wear the mask of a filial child who respected his father.

At that time, he had been irritable, so he hadn't bothered to explain much.

In fact, Jarvis had truly misunderstood this point.

Even in private, or when he was completely alone, Andre's use of the title Father King was not out of love or reverence, but... fear.

He was utterly terrified of his Father King, the King of Lake.

The King was not strict when interacting with him on a daily basis, nor was his speech oppressive; in fact, most of the time, he wore a doting smile.

But... Andre would not be misled by this facade into thinking the King was truly a benevolent father.

If one were to ask why, it was because this "benevolent father" had sucked dry more than a hundred of his own brothers and sisters.

Originally, Andre didn't know who would dare to assassinate the royal offspring within the kingdom's borders, or for what purpose.

Most crucially, even after multiple princes and princesses were murdered, no clues regarding the killer could be found.

Who? Who could evade the investigation of the royal family's Saint-ranks?

Andre had been unable to figure it out despite a hundred thoughts.

Until one day, while returning to his palace after an audience with his Father King, he happened upon a royal guard in a corner of the palace burying a shriveled human skin into the soil, and finally obtained the answer.

Who else could it be that left the kingdom's many Saint-ranks helpless, if not their master.

How the King bypassed the Church's prohibitions to kill within the city without being held accountable, Andre did not know, nor did he dare to know.

The only thing he was clear about was that his prospects today were grim.

Passing through the inner palace gates and drawing closer to the door of that bedroom, Andre's heartbeat grew increasingly violent.

He felt as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest; his whole body felt slightly dizzy, and everything in his vision began to show double images.

Finally recovering slightly, and finding a moment of clarity, Andre realized he had already crossed the threshold of the bedroom.

Catching a glimpse of a figure sitting by the bed out of the corner of his eye, he suppressed his terror, placed his right hand over his left chest, and bowed: "Greetings, Father King."

Despite his best efforts to restrain himself, his voice was still hoarse when he spoke.

The seated man slowly raised his head.

He wore luxurious pajamas with gold thread embroidered on the collar, had short slightly curly hair, and sat with a straight back. The skin on his face was slightly wrinkled, and his features did not possess the majesty of one who had long held the throne, but rather the kindness of an old grandfather cooling off under the shade of a tree.

The King's gentle gaze fell upon Andre, his tone sounding like an ordinary father concerned for his child: "Is your throat injured?"

Even though his head was lowered toward the floor, Andre couldn't help but shiver when the soft words rang out: "No, I am fine."

"Is that so..." Unsure if he was truly unaware of the anomaly or just feigning ignorance, the King muttered to himself before saying, "I summoned you today just to see how you've been lately."

Hmm... during the time I was unconscious, you worked hard handling the government affairs."

"It was my duty." It wasn't that Andre didn't want to offer a few flatteries, but he truly didn't dare to say more.

From his perspective, the King at this moment was a madman who had lost his mind.

Perhaps a single sentence would trigger a whim for him to 'have a taste' today, and then Andre would be finished right here.

The King didn't speak again, simply examining him on his own, his gaze like someone appraising a sheep, considering which part would be good for soup and which part would definitely be delicious grilled.

Fortunately, things were not as he feared.

Just as Andre's heart was beginning to crawl under the stare, the King finally spoke: "I am tired, you may leave."

"Yes, Father King."

He let out a long sigh of relief, backed out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

As the door shut tight, blocking out the sunlight, the unlit room suddenly grew dim, with only a single beam of light slanting in through a crack in the window, falling upon the King's chin.

"Servant." After a moment of silence, he asked the old man standing at the foot of the bed, "How have things been lately?"

"They have been well."

Servant's answer was somewhat ambiguous, but the King seemed to understand: "That is good then."

Having said that, he turned his head to look at Servant, his eyes hidden in the gloom seemingly staring: "You... don't seem to have changed at all."

In his memory, the old man had looked exactly like this with white hair and beard when he was a child; many years had passed, and he was still the same.

"Your Majesty, I have aged a bit."

"But there are still seventy-three wrinkles on your face."

The King had many doubts in his heart regarding Servant.

His Father King, the previous King of Lake, had told him that Servant could be trusted—completely.

At first, the King thought he was a Saint-rank cultivated by the royal family, but when he looked at the old man again after promoting to the Saint-rank through the Magic Tower, he still saw an ordinary body.

There were only two possibilities: Servant was a Gods Blessing, or he was indeed an ordinary person.

But... would a Gods Blessing pant after taking a few quick steps?

The King's ice-blue pupils contracted, and his lips parted slightly: "I have never hidden anything from you."

"Yes."

"Then, Mr. Servant, do you think I am wrong?"

Servant's cloudy eyes lifted, meeting those ice-blue eyes across the distance: "Perhaps."

"That is truly... a regret for me. I thought you would say, 'The King cannot be wrong.'"

"All humans make mistakes."

The King straightened his head, pressing his hands against his knees, and remained silent.

After the bedroom remained quiet for a moment, he suddenly asked: "How is the Freedom Army you've been organizing?"

"Not very well, but..." Servant paused for a moment before continuing, "They met a young man. Perhaps he is a turning point."

"A young man?"

"Yes."

"If my memory is intact, you established the Freedom Army hoping to explore a possibility that could... could defeat the gods?"

Servant nodded gently.

The King said with interest: "You call him a turning point; can that young man do it?"

"That is why I said 'perhaps'."

"Mm..." The King suddenly understood something, his expression clearing, "No wonder you don't approve of me. Do you think it's shameful to yield to the gods?"

"Cowardice is not shameful."

The King felt there was another half to that sentence, but Servant closed his mouth, and it wasn't right to force him.

He just felt awkward in his heart, as if he were explaining, yet also as if he were affirming himself:

"The vast Ice and Snow Empire was wiped out in a single night, and our ancestors fled to this remote corner of the continent; these are all the price of defying the gods.

I am very curious, Mr. Servant. The gods have not bullied us, have not oppressed us, and have not harmed us; on the contrary, He has bestowed everything upon us.

Why is it that we must resist the gods?"

Servant was stunned for a moment, not knowing how to reply for a time.

When he had committed that impulsive act years ago, although the banner he raised was "fighting for freedom," it was actually just his own "freedom."

To the countless commoners and Professionals below the Legendary rank, the gods were generous and kind.

Seeing his silence, the King couldn't tell if it was a refusal to answer or something else. Feeling drowsiness wash over him, he crawled back into the covers and closed his eyes to rest, quietly awaiting the arrival of a certain moment.

Servant stood for a while with his hands tucked in his sleeves, then silently walked out of the bedroom and followed the main path all the way to the front gate of the palace.

Glancing left and right, he walked toward the front right.

His pace looked slow, yet the shops on both sides receded rapidly, until they were almost just afterimages.

In about a few minutes, he reached his destination—the front gates of the Royal Capital Cathedral.

Entering the gates, he moved with a clear goal through the winding corridors, turning here and there until he stopped behind a young man.

The young man hadn't noticed his arrival and was still standing on his tiptoes, peering toward the main hall of the cathedral.

Servant waited for a few seconds, but the other party still didn't react, so he helplessly raised his hand and patted him on the shoulder.

"Holy crap, who the hell is scaring... oh, it's Old Mr. Fei."

"My name is Servant."

"Old Mr. Servant."

"What was your name again?"

"Eji."

The old man didn't speak, staring at him expressionlessly.

"You have to keep my secret."

"I can do that."

"Zhang Mu."

Nodding to indicate he heard, Servant led Zhang Mu to a nearby garden and found a stone bench to sit on.

"I have a question I'd like your help with."

"A question? What question?" Zhang Mu was somewhat stunned. "Even a Legendary like you can't solve it, and you're counting on me?"

"It has nothing to do with being a Professional."

"Oh, then go ahead."

"What is a god?"

"God... humanity has quite a few guesses of its own, like powerful individuals, high-dimensional beings who master the rules, or different civilizations whose strength far exceeds our own.

Those are the more reliable ones. As for pure imagination, things like future humans traveling back through time, the indescribable, and so on."

After listening, Servant was even more bewildered.

"What does 'high-dimensional' mean? What is 'indescribable'? Traveling through time? Is that possible?"

The string of questions made Zhang Mu's head ache.

Disliking the trouble of explaining them one by one, he directly stated his conclusion: "Anyway, they're just things that can crush humanity.

Besides, making all sorts of judgments about an existence one has never seen is meaningless, isn't it?"

"Hmm, true." Servant agreed, then asked, "Then does humanity need to resist the gods?

He... has not harmed us."

"That..." Zhang Mu scratched his head, "That has to do with values."

When Servant asked the question, he had thought he would get an "I don't know" in response, but he hadn't expected the other party to actually be able to provide an answer. His eyes immediately lit up.

"Can you elaborate?"

"Values are a person's claims and attitudes toward worth; they are also a benchmark for making choices and judgments about behavior.

For example, some people feel that if they are bullied, they must immediately fight back, regardless of whether they can win.

Others hold the opposite view, thinking that knowing you're no match yet insisting on going up will only result in more cruel humiliation—a total fool."

Servant was deep in thought, but it was still a bit fuzzy: "Who is right?"

Zhang Mu smiled and asked back, "Who do you think is right?"

"Me?" Servant thought for a moment, "The second one, I suppose.

Since you're currently weaker than the other person, you should definitely work hard on your cultivation and wait until you're stronger than them to take revenge."

"Well, there you go."

"I am right?"

"The reasoning is very sound."

"So the first one is wrong?"

"Who said that?"

Servant was confused again: "If the second one is right, isn't the first one wrong?"

"That's what values are." Zhang Mu crossed his legs, his eyes watching the main hall as he spoke, "From an objective perspective, there's no distinction of right or wrong in values, only whether you can identify with and accept them.

Does a cruel person perceive themselves as cruel? Perhaps some do, but it is definitely not the same concept as cruelty in common sense."

Servant's head remained lowered for a long time, as if he had understood something: "To a single action of a god, everyone will have different reactions; some will resist in anger, while others will submit with joy."

"That's more or less it."

He stood up and walked toward the cathedral gates, turning his head again after a few steps. "Your explanation was very insightful, but there is one point I am still confused about. Hmm, why submit?"

His question was somewhat ambiguous, but Zhang Mu understood: "When people are used to kneeling, you can't even pull them up."

"Thank you."

The figure vanished at the end of the corridor in an instant. Zhang Mu didn't mind, his gaze still fixed on the closed doors of the main hall.

Initially, he had planned to enter the main hall to closely monitor Jarvis, but after thinking for a few minutes, he rejected the idea.

The Saul Continent had gods.

Zhang Mu hadn't seen them and didn't know what this "god" thing really was, but its existence was beyond doubt.

Add to that the messenger from the Holy Mountain who came to demand accountability, only to return without a word.

He guessed that the god might be about to make some kind of move.

He had no idea how it would happen, but the focus would surely fall on the Royal Capital.

In that case, if Zhang Mu was too close to the main hall where the statue of god was enshrined, there was a chance his Shadow Technique would be discovered.

And most importantly, from the time he learned the Shadow Technique until today, only two Popes had been able to see through the illusion.

Their only common point was that they had both been taken as Believers by the god.

Jarvis was acting all mysterious, claiming he had heard a divine oracle himself. Looking at the various events that had occurred recently, it was likely true.

That would mean he was also a Believer, so naturally, Zhang Mu couldn't get close.

"Tsk, what a pain. Waiting for the prohibition... Holy crap?"

A pillar of milky-white light burst out from the main hall, shooting straight into the sky and piercing through the clouds, as if to connect with the god.

Zhang Mu hadn't expected the commotion to come so suddenly, and he stood up to gaze at the heavens.

...

Ten minutes ago, in the main hall.

Jarvis gripped the staff that had accompanied him for many years, standing upright at the foot of the statue of god. Behind him were more than twenty people, all the high-level Believers of the entire Royal Capital Cathedral.

The high-level Believers were dressed in robes, lined up in a row. They looked up at the five-faced statue of god with expressions of piety, their hands tightly clasped in front of their chests with fingers interlaced.

Both sides' lips moved slightly and continuously, chanting mysterious syllables.

A prayer ceremony should have been solemn and warm, yet the eyes of the high-level Believers, filled with joy and madness, added a hint of eeriness to it.

Jarvis was a bit different from them; his gaze held more longing, like a reunion with parents from whom he had been separated for a long time, a feeling so thick it almost overflowed from his eye sockets.

The chanting gradually grew grand, echoing through the empty cathedral.

If anyone heard it, they would likely feel their body and soul being washed pure at the same time.

But those were not sounds that humans could make.

It was as if a soul from elsewhere had been stuffed into their bodies, controlling them to welcome the impending greatness.

Jarvis saw it.

Light, milky-white light filled the entire world.

There was no longer any other existence in his vision; there was only light.

Jarvis suddenly raised his staff high, the chanting rising another notch, the madness in his eyes bordering on pathological.

The high-level Believers' piety intensified, yet their skin quietly turned dark and withered, their bodies slowly shriveling as their flesh disappeared, as if being devoured by a beast hidden nowhere.

"It's coming, it's coming..."

"God!"

The high-level Believers turned to ash and scattered. Jarvis's scream threatened to pierce the dome of the main hall as light burst from the top of the faceless statue of god, shooting straight into the sky.