Devouring World Dragon

Chapter 150 The Cross (Third Update)
The wilderness is full of sand and gravel.

Wearing a crown of thorns haphazardly woven on his head, his bare feet trod on gravel sharp enough to cut his skin, and his eyes bloodshot, Joshua was utterly exhausted from praying all night long. He was being led along by Roman soldiers in a pathetic manner, like a lamb to the slaughter.

His crown of thorns was covered with unremoved spikes, causing his head to bleed profusely, while his bare feet, exposed to the cold wind and treading on the gravel, gradually began to lose consciousness.

It was early spring, and the winter chill had not yet completely dissipated. The biting wind made people shiver, let alone Joshua, who was only wearing a tattered single garment.

Just as the Roman soldier who forcibly placed the crown of thorns on his head said jokingly.

“King of Judah, this is your crown.”

These Roman soldiers did not believe in Judaism, nor in any messiah or savior; they simply mocked the man in front of them who claimed to be the Jewish king.

But he did not refute it; instead, he spoke earnestly to the Roman soldier.

"Yes, next, I will ascend my throne..."

However, his words only drew more ridicule and sarcasm.

"Pfft..."

Finally, Joshua, cold, hungry, tired and thirsty, could not hold on any longer. His stiff legs lost all feeling, and he fell to the ground in a sorry state. But then he heard a cursing voice.

"Stop playing dead, now is the time to execute you!"

As he spoke, two Roman soldiers beside him lifted him up, one on each side, and with the help of this force, Joshua raised his head...

On the open ground in front of them, several wooden crosses were clearly visible. The dark brown bloodstains on them proved that many people had died on them. At this moment, two people were nailed to the crosses and were groaning from time to time.

A thought inexplicably flashed through Joshua's mind.

"This is my throne."

Then, several Roman soldiers worked together to bind Joshua to a cross, preparing to torture him.

However, the process of cross-crossing during the Roman Empire was not simply about binding the prisoner to the cross. First, the prisoner's hands were bound to their sides, and then their feet were tied together. This was only the first step, intended to prevent the prisoner from breaking free due to the excruciating pain that followed.

Once the prisoner was successfully bound, soldiers would drive a large iron nail into his wrists, forcing him into the cross. Since there was a wooden board at the bottom of the cross for the prisoner to stand on, after nailing his hands, they would then drive another large iron nail through his soles, fixing him to the board as well.

In this way, the three large iron nails successfully nailed the prisoner to his death, preventing him from escaping.

While ordinary people suffer, since none of the three wounds are fatal, prisoners who are exhausted and in pain often wail and scream on the cross for a long time, sometimes even for a day and a night, before finally dying from exhaustion and bleeding.

When the first large iron nail pierced his wrist, the simple, brutal force that directly damaged his bone caused Joshua to cry out in pain.

"what!!!"

Because of the intense pain, he couldn't help but open his mouth wide and hiss as he gasped for breath. Beads of cold sweat seeped from his forehead. The intense pain made him instinctively try to break free, but the ropes on his hands held him tightly, preventing him from escaping.

However, this was just the beginning...

"Boom!"

The Roman soldiers swung their hammers with all their might, trying to drive the large iron nail into Joshua's wrist. Of course, it wasn't easy to succeed on the first try; it would take several attempts to completely drive the nail in.

However, this also caused the flesh on Joshua's wrist to be forcibly torn open once again. Every time the rough iron nail advanced into Joshua's wrist, it caused him unbearable pain.

"what!!!"

Struggling in agony, this man, whom the disciples regarded as their faith, was now overcome with pain and wept uncontrollably. He was not the son of God, but merely a human being, a doctor once named Hannah, a Jew who sought to spread love and forgiveness among his followers. As a human being, he was naturally flesh and blood, capable of both laughter and tears; what was so strange about crying because of pain?
His voice trembled abnormally, choked with sobs, and waves of pain surged from his wrist like a raging flood, making him wish he could faint on the spot.

However, with each bout of pain, he would desperately try to explain it to himself in his heart.

"For the sake of the church..."

He was exhausted; the uncertainty between God and man had brought him to the brink of collapse.

Compared to the pain of not being able to sleep day and night, the physical pain at this moment seemed insignificant.

He gritted his teeth and desperately told himself to relax, because he was terrified that if he relaxed now, he would beg for mercy from the Roman soldiers in front of him.

"Boom!"

The nail sank deeper into his wrist once more, tearing his flesh apart again. The pain was so real, countless times colder than any resolve he held in his heart, yet he persevered.

"For the sake of the church..."

I kept trying to convince myself to persevere.

He truly cherished the church he had founded, and the fact that so many believers were willing to listen to his teachings and his ideals made him realize that he was not alone.

The world he dreamed of, that peaceful and beautiful world, was not just his wish, but something many people longed for.

But he was too exhausted to go on. He was truly weary. But if his death could offer some help to the church, and serve as a pioneer, enabling the church to grow even more successfully...

Then his death would have been worthwhile.

"If my death can do anything to help the church..."

He gritted his teeth, thinking to himself.

Finally, the nail pierced the cross and through Joshua's arm. Joshua was in so much pain that he was covered in cold sweat and his face was pale.

"The nail in the left hand is in place; now it's time to nail the nail in the right hand."

Just then, Joshua heard the Roman soldiers talking below and realized that the excruciating pain he was experiencing was only the beginning; his hand and both feet were about to be nailed down...

Can he really hold on?
Joshua didn't know, but he was willing to do his best to achieve it.

……

Lonnukis had never seen such a scene before him. In his many executions, he had seen all kinds of people, but he had never seen anyone like this.

He had seen tough men who never uttered a sound, even when their hands and feet were nailed through; he had also seen cowardly men who cried and begged for mercy before they had even been tortured. But the man in front of him was completely different.

He didn't look strong; in fact, he was rather thin. He wasn't some tough guy made of iron; he would cry out in pain and even weep weakly when nails were driven through his hands and feet. But he wasn't a coward either, because no matter how much he was tortured, he always gritted his teeth and endured it, never once begging the Roman soldiers for mercy or asking them to go easy on him.

Within that somewhat thin man's body, there seemed to be an invisible will.

Although it was clearly shattered and seemed on the verge of collapse, it was always held together by some kind of tenacious force. It was not invincible, but it seemed that no wave could truly break it down...

"Who exactly is this person?"

The young Roman soldier stared in disbelief, muttering to himself.

(End of this chapter)