Madmen don't keep diaries

Chapter 328, Chapter 327: Daring to Face the Present World
The ground collapsed, creating a huge crater. If viewed from above, it would clearly be a shoe print that stretched for hundreds of feet!
The angels were completely unprepared for this turn of events. During their rush, they seemed to be suppressed by some great force and were all pressed into the bottom of the pit.

Shunzi was no better off. After taking that step, his entire body shrank at a visible speed, and his once broad and robust physique became emaciated in the blink of an eye.

He was still unaware of what had happened, staring incredulously at his skin-and-bones wrist, his sunken cheeks highlighting his prominent cheekbones: "Ugh... I should have eaten two more steamed buns this morning..."

His vision went black, and he collapsed headfirst.

Bang.

The thud of his forehead hitting the ground jolted Shunzi back to his senses.

He struggled to get up, his two thin, bony arms supporting him on the ground, swaying rapidly like the flapping wings of a butterfly.

"I'm starving, I'm starving..."

Shunzi's voice was trembling.

But at that moment, a voice came from behind.

"This is not your power."

Looking up, wisps of mist were rising from the bottom of the pit.

As the mist gathered, Modra's figure became visible.

He appeared to be unharmed, but his armor was tattered and cracked, held together only by the still intact leather lining.

But most of the other angels weren't so lucky.

At the bottom of the pit behind Modra, some people were wailing in pain, some were groaning in despair, and some were even buried in the mud and had stopped moving.

After regaining their bodies, they once again experienced physical pain.

But this is not normal, as Modra has already discovered.

Under the influence of that oppressive force, the angels were unable to even separate from their physical bodies; this was not imprisonment, but suppression.

Modra looked down at Shunzi with a particularly serious expression: "Heretic, to whom did you sacrifice yourself to become so pathetic?"

Shunzi didn't know whether this counted as a sacrifice or not, but he could clearly feel the depletion of his magical power—not just magical power, but it seemed that the stomp he made just now had not been enough with magical power alone, so it had also exhausted his physical strength.

At this moment, several angels with minor injuries emerged from the pit as mist.

They treated their injuries hastily while looking at Shunzi with lingering fear.

Shunzi was still struggling to get up, but she failed. Her arms went limp, and she fell to the ground again.

Modra didn't want to give Shunzi another chance. He pointed at Shunzi and chanted in a deep voice, "Mist, execute."

The mist rapidly gathered, transforming into a guillotine above the straight, the blade gleaming coldly as it was about to fall.

The evil god's voice echoed in Shunzi's mind once more: "Give me... power..."

Shunzi couldn't help but smile bitterly: "Damn it, what kind of bullshit evil god is this? I can't even stand up, where would I get the strength to lend me..."

Before she could finish speaking, Shunzi's chest suddenly felt hot.

Swah——

The guillotine fell, striking Shunzi's neck with a dull thud.

"Ouch—"

Shunzi sprang up from the ground from the heat, not caring whether the back of his neck was injured or not. He just kept yelling and reached his hand into the collar of his heavy-duty shirt to pull out the hot thing.

The angels opposite watched in silence as the guillotine was shaken into mist and dissipated. They then turned to look at Shunzi, the giant who had been skin and bones just moments before, who seemed to have been instantly "inflated" and returned to his previous muscular and imposing appearance.

The way he gestured and gesticulated was like he was performing a shamanistic ritual.

"It is indeed the evil god."

Ilse gritted his teeth: "This kind of sacrificial dance was lost long ago when the religion was destroyed."

Shunzi hadn't even realized he'd recovered yet; he'd only just now seen what was burning hot.

He held a black feather between his fingers, and the mysterious, dark light on the feather, like starlight, was rapidly dissipating.

Shunzi asked anxiously, "This is a magical artifact that my elder brother gave me! Why did you use it?"

As if replenished with power, the voice in his mind became much clearer: "Child, it is not a magic artifact."

“This is the purest divine power.” Modra’s expression grew increasingly solemn. Although he didn’t know what had happened, he was certain that the situation was developing in an unpredictable direction.

He dared not delay any longer and shouted the order: "Don't give him a chance to breathe—do it!"

Without hesitation, the angels unleashed their deadly attacks, instantly creating a thick, dense fog that enveloped the area. Within the fog, a vast army surged towards Shunzi like a tidal wave.

The overwhelming scene terrified Shunzi, and as he instinctively tried to flee for his life, the words of the evil god echoed in his mind once more.

"Relax and trust me, it won't be long."

Shunzi closed her eyes as instructed, and when she opened them again, her eyes were covered in darkness.

Boom! !

A muffled thud came from the thick fog, and the angels felt the earth beneath their feet tremble.

Modra whispered, "What terrifying power..."

Ilse agreed, "It's not surprising that it's an evil god."

Before he could finish speaking, an even more violent tremor followed.

Boom-! ! !
The commotion of thousands of troops in the fog instantly subsided, plunging into a deathly silence.

The next second, the thick fog seemed to be swept back by a gale, or as if it were swept away by an immense force, and vanished without a trace in the blink of an eye.

As the fog dissipated, the imposing figure slowly came into view.

The angels looked on solemnly, but their pupils constricted in unison, and they instinctively looked up at the sky.

"Then, what is that..."

Ilse stood there, stunned and bewildered.

Modra's lips moved, his voice trembling as he uttered, "God of Mist... how could this be..."

Above Shunzi's head stood a towering, turtle-shaped phantom, radiating a dim, starlight-like glow.

The ancient trees in the mountains were not even as tall as his calves. When he lowered his monstrous head covered with scales and stared at the angels with his huge eyes, the breath he exhaled blew the entire forest bare.

Faced with the tangible pressure of the true God, the angels could not even move a finger.

The only one who could still speak under the oppressive force was Modra. He said with difficulty to the people around him, "It's him, the evil god... I dare say... I've read about him in the 'Records of Divine Punishment'... but he should be dead by now..."

"We must bring this message back to the divine realm..."

Not much time has passed since the arrival of the dragon. The swirling mist in the sky has not completely dissipated and is still slowly circling above Gan Dang's head.

The illusory figure of Gan Dang did not speak, but a deep, buzzing voice echoed through the mountains and forests: "Mist... I remember, there was him back then—but I seem to have forgotten what he looked like... Has so much time passed already?"

Suddenly, Modra threw something with all his might and shouted hysterically, "Now—go!"

The object turned out to be a handkerchief, which grew longer in the wind, eventually becoming the size of a theater curtain, and covered Gan Dang's eyes.

The handkerchief is a magical artifact brought from the divine realm by Modra. It was personally imbued with divine power by the God of Mist. Those covered by it will not only lose all perception of the outside world, but their own existence will also be obscured for a short period of time—as if they do not exist in this world.

This was originally a secret weapon that Modra had saved to deal with the temple lord, but he had no choice but to use it here.

But how big is Wanlaiqiu? And how big is Gan Dang?

A handkerchief, seemingly the size of a curtain, fluttered by, yet it couldn't even cover the tip of Gan Dang's nose.

The angels, however, paid no heed to any of that. After Modra's cry fell, they all transformed into mist and flew toward the vortex in the sky.

We'll take as many as we can.

He merely raised his head slightly, his gaze following the angel's movements.

The surrounding terrain changed accordingly.

The earth seemed to come alive.

Rumbling--

Amidst the earth-shaking, deafening roar, a gigantic turtle head formed from earth and rocks burst forth from the ground. The head was the size of a hill, and in the blink of an eye, it caught up with the angel. Then, with a "boom," the giant jaws snapped down.

(End of this chapter)