330: Church of the Abyss

You Yu stood slightly in front of Judge Tudor, also cloaked, but his posture was more at ease.

No longer a department head of the Underworld, he now resembled an observer; or rather, a director about to take the stage.

His spiritual sense swept over the numb faces, and he nodded in satisfaction.

"Judge Tudor, what do you think of this place?"

"It's worse than the most dilapidated City of the Wronged Dead in the Underworld; at least the ghosts there don't have to carry stones."

Tudor remained silent, but the judges brush in his hand spun slightly faster.

His gaze lingered on an elderly pig-man who had just been kicked down by an overseer.

The old pig-man struggled to his feet, the ore on his back scattering across the ground, earning him several more vicious kicks.

His murky eyes held no hope, only a dead, desolate gray.

"No battle qi, no magic, not even the hope of a full meal," You Yu continued.

"Orc nobles only need their strength, to be squeezed dry. If they die, they'll just be replaced. After all, lower-class orcs are like weeds in the field; cut one crop, and another grows."

He paused slightly, the corner of his mouth under the cloak seeming to twitch, revealing a hint of cold calculation.

"This kind of place is perfect for sowing seeds. A single spark can start a prairie fire."

Tudor finally spoke, "Seeds?"

You Yu pulled out two thin jade tablets from his embrace. The material was common, and crude patterns and a few lines of twisted spiritual script were carved on them with spiritual power.

One depicted a blurry human figure sitting cross-legged, with air currents swirling around it; the other was a simple drawing of a speck of light sinking into darkness.

"Breathing methods and meditation techniques," You Yu said, handing the jade tablets to Tudor.

"They're like a low-tier version of 'Guiding Qi into the Body' and 'Calming the Mind.' Things even Underworld Ghost Emissaries disdain to practice as beginners."

Tudor took the jade tablets, his thumb brushing over the rough carvings. The items were indeed crude, and their effect was probably pitifully weak.

But for these orc slaves who had never encountered any path to power, struggling on the edge of life and death... "Enough to save lives," Tudor understood.

You Yu nodded, his gaze turning towards the slightly open muddy ground deep within the slum.

"Judge Tudor, if we use the name of the Underworld's reincarnation and give some tangible 'sweeteners,' there's no reason we can't raise an 'Underworld Army' in another world."

"Interesting, let's do that."

Late at night, in the deepest part of the shanty town.

In a half-collapsed mud house, a few faint slivers of moonlight seeped through cracks in the wall, barely illuminating seven or eight figures huddled together inside.

In the shadow of the corner, You Yu quietly appeared.

His gray cloak slid to the ground, revealing a strangely tailored dark robe, with coiled tentacles embroidered as a dark pattern on the hem.

Half of his face was covered by a white bone mask.

Tudor hid in deeper shadows, and with a gentle tap of his judges brush, a thin, cicada-wing-like barrier of Yin energy enveloped the house, isolating it from the outside.

"I am the 'Shadow of the Deep One,' the guide under the Netherworld Empress," You Yu spoke, his words hoarse, with a strange penetrating power that drilled directly into the minds of the orc slaves.

Their numb eyes flickered.

You Yu raised his hand, and a speck of faint blue Soul Fire ignited in his palm.

The flame twisted, illuminating the void behind him. In the void, the outline of a 'divine statue' slowly gathered.

It had three heads and six arms, its face blurred, enveloped in swirling dark mist.

Each of its six arms held grotesque objects: a giant anchor wrapped in chains, a bone bowl filled with eyeballs, dripping tentacles... "This is the supreme deity, the Netherworld Empress, the ruler who slumbers in the lightless deep sea, the God of the Abyss who controls reincarnation and ultimate demise," You Yu's tone was infused with the tremor peculiar to fanatical believers.

"Her kingdom is not this defiled place. It is a resting place where flesh returns to peace, a crucible for the remolding of souls."

The pig-man slaves made gasping sounds in their throats.

"We are humble, like insects on the ground," You Yu swept his gaze over faces that were both fearful and held a glimmer of hope.

"But the Empress is merciful and bestows the 'Deep Dive Scripture'."

He held up a jade tablet carved with a simple breathing method in his palm.

"Practice this breathing method, calm your mind, and you can temporarily escape the suffering of the flesh, catching a glimpse of the Abyss's tranquility."

"Believe in the Empress, recite her true name. The flesh will eventually decay, and the soul will ultimately return to the embrace of the Abyss. The suffering in life is the refining fire in the Abyss's alchemical furnace."

"Enduring it is devotion."

You Yu suppressed a laugh, feeling more and more like a charlatan. He wondered how the clerical ghost emissaries of the propaganda department wrote these drafts; they sounded so chuunibyou.

"The Abyss is above, the flesh ultimately returns to peace."

The room was silent for over ten seconds, even breathing was as light as a feather falling.

The rabbit-man slave in the corner, lips trembling, was the first to squeeze out a weak, dry breath.

She clumsily tried to recite: "...Deep... the Abyss is above... flesh... flesh returns to peace..."

The breath was as thin as a gnat's buzz, and as it fell, it rippled through the dead silence.

One after another, numb lips slowly began to move. Suppressed, fragmented recitations, clutching at hope like driftwood in despair.

Whispers rose in the cramped shack, converging into an eerie tide.

"The Abyss is above, the flesh ultimately returns to peace..."

The Soul Fire in You Yu's hand flickered, and he tossed a jade tablet carved with the breathing method to each person.

Several lines of spiritual script emerged from the void beside the divine statue, inscribed with the ecclesiastical hierarchy:

Abyssal Gazer (Pope): Executor of the Empress's will.

Shadow of the Deep One (High Priest): Spreads doctrine, presides over secret rites.

Ferryman (Priest): Guides new souls, presides over small prayers.

Guixu Walker (Deacon): Maintains the order, collects 'incense offerings'.

People of Rest (Believers): All who recite the true name.

The prayer was directly branded into the depths of the slaves' consciousness:

"Ruler of the slumbering Abyss,

Empress who governs ultimate demise and Guixu.

Humble flesh sacrifices pain to You,

Begging for peace after the crucible's tempering.

The Abyss is above,

Guide my soul,

To eternal peace."

...The next morning, the old pig-man was curled up in a corner.

The straps of his ore basket were deeply cut into his shoulder blades, leaving dark purple bloodstains, and the old wounds from the overseer's whip also stung fiercely.

"The Abyss is above... the flesh ultimately returns to peace."

His cracked lips constantly moved, repeatedly chewing on the fragmented prayer.

He caught a glimpse of "tranquility."

His murky eyes moved, trying to inhale according to the simple method on the jade tablet.

He exhaled shallowly and quickly, choking the old pig-man into a cough.

After coughing, the pain in his back seemed to lessen a little.

[Is it an illusion?]

He tried again, panting, this time slower, holding his breath and sinking down.

A faint coolness followed the inhaled air into his burning wounds.

[The pain really lessened!]

He suddenly opened his eyes wide, a faint light bursting forth in his murky pupils.

It was not an illusion, but a divine bestowal.

The old pig-man clutched the jade tablet in his embrace, his hands, like withered tree bark, trembling violently, continuously muttering, "The Abyss is above, the Abyss is above."

He struggled to move to a slightly brighter spot, brought the jade tablet close to his eyes, and used all his strength to memorize the rough carvings.