Necromancer, summoning 055? What the heck?

Chapter 531 Heavenly Fire Falls, Flowers Bloom, Scepter, and the Turmoil of Blue Star

It's not particularly remarkable that the Abolirim Hymn has sermons by the "sent-down witnesses".

Throughout the entire continent and the five seas, there are hundreds of thousands of qualified clergy members of all ranks who are qualified to preach and spread their teachings. So it is perfectly normal for such a charlatan to suddenly appear.

But unlike other charlatans, this one didn't accept money; instead, he gave it away, which made the other priests find it unbearable.

This kind of thing doesn't conform to the doctrine; it's definitely a cult.

Meanwhile, the Bloodthirsty Frenzy Clan also felt somewhat uneasy upon hearing this news.

They carried out their rampage of burning, killing, and looting in the region, but they did run into trouble. Without exception, their tough opponents were all organizations skilled in grassroots mobilization.

They were wary of such people who stood among the lower-level believers.

A priest who repairs irrigation canals, builds schools, and distributes food is far more dangerous than a priest who promises virgins and treasures.

Then let's just cut it down!
In any case, these beasts are not worthy of the water and air of this chosen land.

And the believers gathered here to listen to Beria's sermons, did they not know that there was danger here?
Of course they know, but they've gotten used to being bombed by the pro-CCP forces, so where is safe now?
The neighbor to the north was razed to the ground not long ago, the market to the east was hit twice last month, and the school to the south is still emitting black smoke... The entire Anchor City is a wasteland that has been turned upside down and blasted at will. Where can you hide?
Unable to resist and powerless to fight back, then all that's left is for the enemy to have a spiked club, and for me to have my skull exposed.

They gathered here to listen to these calming sermons. It was also because of the soothing power of this compassionate witness that not only did believers from surrounding towns come, but it also attracted many reporters and social media professionals.

Some people want to spread the glory of the gods, while others want to expose the true colors of liars.

In short, neither the bombers nor the bombed-out people really care about this land.

But Beria cared.

This was his first public lecture since he came out of retirement.

His performance on this occasion is not only related to whether his planned goals can be achieved, but also to an important parameter: his overall evaluation within the Dongxia system.

If new casualties were caused by his preaching, what would the commanders of Dongxia think, even if they didn't say it?
Therefore, even a lion uses its full strength to hunt a rabbit!
The moment he received the alarm, Beria began his long-planned performance.

Before the ruins of the Abolirim Scripture Hall, Beria's voice suddenly stopped.

It was a pause that came without warning, as if a string had suddenly snapped, bringing the previous note to an abrupt end. This caused the believers and observers, who were immersed in the scriptures, to shudder and involuntarily look up.

A reporter who had been waiting to expose this guy's true colors revealed a malicious smile.

He had seen too many charlatans perform this kind of possession act, where they would suddenly close their eyes, tremble, gesticulate wildly, or burst into tears halfway through their speech...

These are all common tricks used to deceive the ignorant and foolish.

He quickly adjusted the focus and locked onto Beria.

In the footage, the witness, who had been looking down, raised his eyes and looked up at the high sky.

The midday sun shone brightly on the earth, and thick clouds covered the blue sky, so at this moment there was nothing unusual to be seen.

But Beria just stared intently at those clear eyes, so unlike the old man he was pretending to be, as if they pierced through the clouds, through the void, through some limit of mortal vision, and saw some being high in the sky.

Everyone's eyes were drawn to it.

The broken walls of the ruins cast a half-shadow behind Beria, dust floated in the sunlight, and all eyes were turned toward the sky, creating a strange, almost pilgrimage-like ritualistic scene.

However, nothing could be seen.

Just then, the Lord of Twilight heard a clear, urgent voice in his earpiece, speaking in standard Lunar Language.

"Enemy aircraft have dropped bombs, assessed as guided bombs, estimated to land in 39 seconds."

While everyone was bewildered, Belial spoke.

The voice was soft, almost a murmur, but everyone present heard it clearly.

The voice had a strange rhythm; it was spoken very quickly and urgently, yet there was a sense of time displacement, a slow and deliberate quality to it.

"I saw the wings of death unfolding in the wind."

"I saw evil walking above the clouds!"

"They are trying to blaspheme the glory of God with iron and fire!"

"It wants to steal your souls; it thinks it can..."

Beria's lips moved, his gaze never leaving the sky. Sunlight fell vertically on his face, illuminating his overly clear eyes amidst the deep wrinkles.

"The bomb's descent speed is normal; it is estimated to hit the ground in 32 seconds!"

Beria's voice suddenly grew louder: "It's here!"

"Help me up!"

The two guards beside him immediately exerted force at the same time, supporting Belial's elbows and lifting him up. They then switched their hands to his armpits and sides, allowing the Lord of Twilight to move his hands freely.

Although his legs were not visible beneath the robe, Belial's body was clearly unable to support him, his weight resting entirely on the guard's arm. He struggled to reach out and grab a cane on the side of the wheelchair.

It was an ordinary vine cane, seemingly broken off from some withered plant. The grayish-white cane was covered with vertical grooves that extended to the top of the twisted and gnarled cane, curving into a large, snake-head-like top.

However strange its shape may be, it is ultimately just a rattan cane.

Rough and simple, without fine carving, without gemstone inlay, and without any of the dignity that religious artifacts should have.

From the very first day Beria preached until now, it has been quietly leaning against the armrest of the wheelchair, silently serving as a cane forgotten by its owner.

Now, Beria's slightly withered fingers rested on the staff and grasped it.

Then lift it upwards.

He seemed to be struggling to lift it, so much so that his arm was trembling slightly. But under the focused lens, it could be vaguely seen that the trembling did not seem to come from his own lack of strength, but rather as if the cane itself was swinging on its own.

It was as if something was throbbing beneath the rough fibers.

Beria began reciting scriptures.

In stark contrast to his previous peaceful sermons, Beria's voice was rapid and deep, with some sounds squeezed out from the back of his throat, some vibrating on the tip of his tongue, and sometimes carrying a strange, drawn-out tone. The dense syllables rose and fell in a melodious and varied manner.

"...In the will of the gods, have mercy on this lowly world..."

"...All who shed blood, all who breathe, all who have not yielded in the shadow of death, are God's children..."

"...Under this vast sky, under this twilight!"

"Fearless, undaunted!"

The voice in the earpiece grew increasingly urgent: "The bomb will land in twenty-one seconds!"

Beria pointed his staff vertically downwards and, with all his might, plunged it heavily into the rubble of the ruins in front of the wheelchair.

The moment the tip of the staff pierced the ground, the gravel emitted a strange, groan-like sound, as if the staff had not been stuck into the soil, but into a living, flesh-and-blood body.

Then--

Suddenly, a crack appeared at the top of the cane.

Like a snake's head opening its mouth and spitting out its tongue, the top of the staff suddenly split open, and a tender green shoot suddenly stretched out from the inside of the originally rough and stiff hardwood.

Amidst the incredulous gazes of the crowd, the tiny sprout peeked out, quickly unfurling its first leaf, then the second, the third, the fourth…

The leaves unfurled and spread out at a speed visible to the naked eye, and tiny flower buds, the size of grains of rice, emerged from the leaf axils, swelled, and bulged, growing to the size of a fist in just a few breaths—

It's like fast-forwarding through a documentary about the growth of life.

In the high-definition lens recording, each leaf is unique; some are wider, some are narrower, some have slightly curled edges, and some seem to still have water stains on them.

On those leaves, you can even see clear veins, fine serrations on the leaf edges, and a thin layer of translucent white down on the surface.

Once the leaves have fully opened, the flowers bloom instantly.

The flowers are large and intricate, layer upon layer, with white petals that shimmer with a gentle light.

Even though they were quite far away, many people present seemed to sense a fragrance just by looking at it, a clear and refreshing aroma, like mountain spring water flowing through a flower garden.

But everyone's attention lingered on that flower for less than a breath.

Because the light came.

The light, the same color as the pure white petals, surged forth from the center of the flower, bursting forth and spreading in all directions with an unstoppable force.

Without a sound or a vibration, the light unfolded quietly.

The stream of light was striking but not dazzling. It rose from the top of the vine and extended radially into the sky. Then, at a certain height, it bent naturally as if it could no longer climb.

It bent into a dome.

And so, under the watchful eyes of everyone, the shimmering light pouring from the petals at the top of the vine outlined a huge, transparent, and radiant dome.

A scroll spell from the Misty Moon Divine Court: [Holy Light Curtain].

The sky was like a giant soap bubble, an inverted glass bowl, a curved curtain of water from a fountain, and a huge, dazzling film of light, enveloping the entire ruins and all the believers in front of them.

The moment the light curtain landed and fused with the ground, everyone saw the flash of light from the sky.

They knew it was a bomb, an air-dropped bomb from the Bloody Slug Clan.

But at this moment, people who were stunned by such a magnificent scene forgot to hide or run away. Instead, they just stared blankly at the sky and watched the bomb fall heavily into the sky.

Explosion instantly!

The sound was surprisingly soft.

Or rather, a loud bang did occur at that moment, but the explosion that should have shattered eardrums, sent buildings flying, and torn people to pieces was forcefully blocked by the light membrane.

What people heard was a dull thud, as if it came through a thick layer of water.

A burst of light erupted in an instant, the orange-red and incandescent white flames intertwining to form a rapidly expanding fireball; the shock wave spread through the air, pushing the surrounding air molecules to form a visible, distorted, translucent shock wave, which also propelled the shrapnel, which had accumulated enough kinetic energy to cut off the body, to fly in all directions.

But all of this only happened outside the dome.

The energy of the bomb struck the shield, which was broken down, absorbed, and channeled layer by layer by this seemingly thin membrane of light. The entire shield trembled slightly during the explosion, but remained unharmed.

The flames spread outwards along the arc of the dome, like red water splashed on the dome, spreading along the curved surface and flowing evenly and smoothly in all directions, covering every inch of space above the dome.

The shockwave created ripples on the surface of the optical film, seemingly pressing it down slightly, before quickly rebounding as if it couldn't hold its breath any longer. As for the shrapnel, it skipped across the water after contacting the surface of the optical film, flying even faster into the distance.

Looking up from below, the scene is surreal, defying common sense and intuition; everyone inside this huge, transparent dome seems to be in an underwater world.

However, instead of seawater, there was an overwhelming blazing fire outside.

It's breathtakingly beautiful.

Beneath the dome, the air remained cool, the dust remained still, and not even the hem of the tattered clothes of the worshippers was disturbed.

This extreme contrast can cause a brief dizziness in the brain, like standing on the edge of a cliff and looking down. Even though the ground beneath your feet is still solid, there is an uncontrollable sense of dread.

Everyone stood frozen in place, craning their necks, mouths agape, eyes wide, frozen in the same pose, staring at the shimmering, flame-covered dome above them, their pupils reflecting a vivid red.

Until the last spark of fire slid down the curved surface, and the final ripple subsided at the edge, the sky above the dome reappeared, revealing a blue sky, white clouds, and a sky that appeared clean and somewhat unreal to everyone.

Sunlight streamed through the dome without obstruction, falling upon the white-robed witness being helped atop the ruins, bathing him in an exceptionally soft golden light, making Belial appear like a statue inlaid in golden amber.

A still photograph remains, becoming an eternal classic.

Just like many years ago, a blond fighter, with a smear of blood on his face, raised his arms and shouted amidst his timid and cowardly bodyguards.

So much so that many people believe that God really exists.

He is using this unique method to accelerate the destruction of evil forces.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Belial used the [Holy Light Canopy] sealed in a scroll to withstand this bomb, which was actually quite a loss for him.

This was specially commissioned by Lord Chen of the Vast Ocean from Rainbow Holy City. Just in case, its protective capabilities are excessively high.

According to Lord Chen, it's alright that old man Belial is dead, but he still has warriors from Dongxia by his side, and they need to be protected.

Therefore, this protection is calculated based on the ability to withstand attacks from multiple heavy aerial bombs combined with missiles.

Only one bomb was caught; it really felt like using a slingshot on a city wall or a cannon to kill a mosquito.

That's not all. To make this public display of divine power even more spectacular, the psychic technology team at Han Hai added some other magical effects.

For example, the effect of leaves and flowers sprouting at the tip of the cane comes from the high-level nature spell "Flowering Beauty" used by the elven druid.

For example, the [Holy Light Canopy] was originally a rather plain white light, but in order to add some visual effects, the Misty Moon Divine Court added an extra [Seven-Colored Flowing Light] specifically for ceremonies.

For example, this protection was originally absolute. Before the spell collapsed, not only would the explosion be strictly blocked outside, but even the sound would be blocked.

However, considering that people's feelings might not be real enough, Han Hai contacted the Magic Society and specially commissioned a unique spell to reduce the sound of the explosion outside by several times, and then send it into the sky through a special spiritual energy channel along the bottom corner.

These meticulous arrangements have indeed achieved extraordinary results.

The first to come to their senses was actually the reporter who had been holding up his camera, ready to expose the swindler's ugly face.

These guys are particularly good at following trending topics and seizing opportunities; their reactions are definitely a cut above the rest.

His professional instincts kept his body in control. His right index finger unconsciously pressed the shutter button, taking three shots in quick succession; his left hand adjusted the focus, and another three shots were taken in quick succession.

From Belial looking up at the sky, to his cane hitting the ground, to the withered tree blooming, to the light curtain rising, to the bombs falling, and flames spreading overhead like a tsunami...

The reporter held his breath until the flames subsided and the sky reappeared, at which point he realized he was almost out of breath.

He took a deep breath, like a drowning person finally surfacing.

Oxygen rushed into the brain, reviving stagnant thoughts.

He rapidly rotated the viewfinder, while most of the people around him were still staring blankly upwards, maintaining the same posture with their necks tilted back, chins slightly raised, and eyes wide open.

His professional instincts drove him to seek a reasonable, rational, and describable scientific explanation, but clearly, he couldn't.

He knelt down heavily, and from deep within his chest, he let out a high-pitched, tearing cry.

"By the Most High God!"

This kneeling and shouting were like toppling the most important domino in a chain reaction, or removing the bottom support of a tower of building blocks. The crowd collapsed in a radial pattern, spreading throughout the entire area in a very short time.

Men, women, the elderly, and children—their skin roughened by wind and sand, their eyes clouded by the passage of time, their limbs emaciated from long-term malnutrition, their faded headscarves stained with the blood of their families during the bombings—all knelt on the ground in rows, uttering the same heart-wrenching cries.

"By the Most High God!"

Among these cries were many heavy sobs, an uncontrollable, almost convulsive cry squeezed from the depths of the soul.

For many believers here, their belief in the existence of God is not as strong as they appear.

Most of them simply had no other choice.

In a country with freedom of religion, you can choose to believe or not believe, choose a new God or believe in Buddha, which largely represents your free will.

But there's no such thing as freedom of religion here.

The local landlords were servants of the gods; if one did not believe in them, one might not even be able to rent land to cultivate.

The high-ranking officials and those in power in the city are the interpreters of the gods. If these lowly people do not obey them, they will be deprived of even their most basic right to survival at any time.

Not to mention your parents, elders, relatives, teachers, police officers, judges, and even gangsters in society—these people who can largely influence your fate are all believers.

Can you choose not to believe? You can't!

After birth, from birth to death, they actually have no choice. Most people become believers not for faith, but for survival, and then it slowly becomes a habit.

Now, a true miracle—a miracle that sheltered them from the threat of death under the enemy's brutal bombs—was presented before them in dazzling splendor.

Their faith, which they had held onto for many years, even their entire lives, suddenly burst forth with dazzling brilliance at this moment.

How could this not make them weep bitterly? Accompanied by cries and sobs, the sound of chanting scriptures began to echo across the field.

In the name of the most gracious and merciful God!

"All greatness belongs to the supreme God!"

"All praise is due to your glory!"

"O omnipotent supreme God, please forgive your lost child!"

People knelt and worshiped towards the dome, towards the cane and Beria, repeating prayers filled with awe, repentance and hope.

The voices were uneven, some high-pitched, some low, some with heavy accents, some even mumbling their words, and some even accompanied by shouts of "ah ah" with sign language...

The sound started from one or two people, then spread to three or five, a dozen, a hundred... growing louder and louder, becoming more and more synchronized, gradually forming a wave of sound surrounding the wheelchair.

At that moment, the all-clear signal finally came through the headset.

Beria raised his arm and coughed lightly.

The sound wasn't loud, but it seemed to ring right next to everyone's ears, and within seconds the prayers and weeping at the scene fell silent.

Thousands of eyes looked with awe and expectation at this true witness of God.

Belial gently placed his palm on the blooming flower at the top of the cane, his fingers lightly tracing its path, causing the white petals to tremble slightly and scatter shimmering light.

The petals slowly retracted, gathered into a bud, shrank, and at the same time rolled up the emerald green veins, swallowing it inch by inch back into the "mouth" of the vine.

Belial casually leaned his restored cane against the armrest and sat down, looking somewhat weary.

He was indeed quite tired.

Although the scroll's activation is pre-set and effortless, for a person with hemiplegia, even with assistance, standing for a long time can cause significant discomfort.

Moreover, this Lord of Twilight is also under immense mental pressure.

This is a bit like walking a tightrope!

Belial's gaze swept across the crowd before he finally spoke.

"Let's continue!"

And so, as if nothing had happened, with the still slightly iridescent transparent sky above him, Belial continued his preaching.

"We previously asked, if gods exist, why do they allow suffering to occur?"

“Some priests tell you that suffering is the punishment and test of the gods! For the sinful, the gods will punish you with the sins of this world; for the innocent, the gods will test you with the evils of this world.”

“They say that the gods have caused you to lose your land, the gods have caused you to lose your water, and the gods have caused your relatives to lose their lives. These are all punishments for your past lives and tests for you in this life.”

"This isn't right!"

Beria cleared his throat and raised his voice slightly.

"This isn't right!"

"Suffering is not permitted by the gods."

"Suffering is the evil of this world itself!"

"It is not worthy of praise!"

Beria crossed his arms in front of his chest and lowered his head slightly.

“Listen carefully, what I am about to tell you is the true scripture given by God, which does not teach you to obey, to be patient, or to regard the noose around your neck as a necklace given by God.”

“The sacred doctrines have been written in stone with the blood of those Shahids and those martyrs.”

The Lord of Twilight's voice grew deeper and deeper, each word carrying a powerful, oceanic aura.

"The Most High God said—"

"My will is among you."

"The gaze of the gods does not linger on the golden roof of temples, but on the sweat of men, beside women's stoves, and in the chanting of children."

“What you offer me should not be the firstborn cattle or sheep, nor the first ripe ears of wheat—”

"It's your kindness and courage that come from within!"

"This is the true fragrant offering!"

"This is the offering I would accept!"

Belial slowly raised his hands, leaned back slightly against the back of his wheelchair, and took a few deep breaths, the sound of his breathing lingering in everyone's ears.

The Lord of Twilight gently wiped the fine beads of sweat from his forehead and slowly uttered his last words.

A statement that everyone can interpret from their own perspective, but there is never a standard answer.

"The blasphemer's judgment of the believers is also his own judgment."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The old charlatan's performance was a great success.

Although the area was subject to signal control by both sides and signal suppression by the enemy, preventing real-time transmission of images and videos, and thus this incredible scene could not be sent out immediately, it didn't matter, as Belial himself hadn't intended to broadcast it live.

Within the attack range of the Bloodstained Clan, the biggest difference between doing this kind of live broadcast and hanging oneself is probably whether or not there is a ligature mark on the neck.

It is more in line with the concept of the Lord of Twilight to spread the word afterward.

Soon, reporters and some believers connected to the cable network broadcast the scene.

Before governments intervened, the first to arrive on the battlefield were the algorithms of various platforms.

Algorithms have no likes or dislikes, only rules; they have no conscience, only trends.

The priests, preachers, and miracles were all performed without any bloodshed or incitement from the tribe, so there was no violation of regulations.

The immediate likes, comments, and prolonged viewings of this video by everyone who saw it triggered the algorithm's sensitive nerves, which were frantically craving data.

It spread, it spread, it spread like wildfire. Without a doubt, the information was like a spoonful of cold water poured into boiling oil, instantly igniting the entire internet.

Within minutes, the photo taken by a reporter on the scene—Beria with white beard and robe, looking up at the sky, surrounded by blooming flowers and a cane, with flames filling the dome—had already spread across social media.

Of course, every disseminator did their best to give it a sensational, exaggerated, and horrifying headline.

"Shocking! A flower blocked a super bomb!"

Miracle or hoax? Mysterious light curtain over Apollim sparks global discussion!

Exclusive reveal: Who exactly is the old man in the white robe who blocked the bomb?

"Watch the entire Apolim incident in three minutes—I watched the last scene ten times!"

The data then continued to climb exponentially.

In three minutes, you'll be trending on all major social media platforms.

Within seven minutes, the related videos and images were shared and forwarded more than ten million times.

Fifteen minutes later, the topic marked "#Apolim's Miracle" entered the top of the entire planet's discussion trending list.

Of course, it also unsurprisingly topped the charts on all information dissemination platforms, always ranking first or second.

It ranks first in most countries, but in superpowers like the White Eagle and the Eastern Xia, it will temporarily be relegated to second place.

For example, the top headline for the Bald Eagle's headline was: "Win! Win! Win! Another day of great victory for the Bald Eagle!"

The news headlines in Dongxia were relatively low-key, consisting of just a simple speech.

However, such a level of information dissemination is already sufficient to make it a household name, known to everyone from women to children.

In a kingdom where the two lions are united, but not very closely, a portly senator, who was enjoying tea and snacks, put down his coffee cup, stared at his phone screen for a full thirty seconds, and then let out a loud, clear roar:

"Shit! What the hell is this movie trailer?"

In Gotham City, a high school student with leaf-shaped gum in his mouth shouted loudly in class, shaking his phone violently like a Parkinson's patient, and spinning around to show it to those around him.

The teacher, who was instructing students on "how to live like an insect," put down the napkin-made wings and shrugged helplessly.

In the Holy See, a bishop frantically ran into the Papal Palace, his fingers rapidly tapping on the tablet screen in his hand. The screen was playing a loop of images of bombs colliding with holy light, silencing all the leaders of the Papacy.

However, after the initial panic, certain forces immediately launched a counterattack.

A large number of accounts posted almost identical information at almost the same time.

"AI at a glance."

"This was obviously generated by a video editing system. You pathetic bastards, can't you even see that?"

"The growth curve of the petals does not conform to the laws of botany, which is a typical error generated by AI."

"The color temperature of the light is wrong; anyone with a brain can tell it's been digitally created."

Tens of thousands of accounts with highly consistent operating styles, close to the West and pro-incitement groups, are simultaneously conducting similar commentary operations. However, faced with such overwhelming popularity, their numbers seem somewhat insufficient.

One comment received the most likes.

"The Shan tribe has always touted their divinely granted land, so it's not that they are unwilling to acknowledge miracles, but rather that they are unwilling to acknowledge that the miracle occurred on the side of their adversaries."

The online battle has become a chaotic mess, while more television media platforms and expert live broadcast channels have begun analyzing the video frame by frame.

Initially, they subconsciously judged that the high degree of consistency was due to AI generation.

Modern AI has reached a level where it can create incredibly realistic images, giving people ample reason to question any video that doesn't actually happen in front of them.

Moreover, this video is simply too incredible.

However, as the analysis progressed frame by frame, the real experts gradually fell silent.

There are no pixel edge anomalies and no ray tracing errors.

There was more than one video and one photo from the scene. When the content taken from different angles and positions could be seamlessly nested into a whole without any trace of splicing or editing, it seemed that only two possibilities remained in front of the professionals.

Either this is true.

Or perhaps it was a large-scale performance art piece, a panoramic live-action shoot.

"It's most likely some kind of elaborate scam designed to attract attention. I've seen too many religious fraudsters like this; they always manage to manipulate ignorant people in various ways."

"But how do you explain this light film that forms a physical barrier?"

One technical consultant offered a more "safe" hypothesis: "Could this be some kind of newly manufactured defensive weapon, like, like some kind of laser emitter..."

The expert opposite him looked dismissive and pointed to the source of the light source: the plant at the tip of the vine.

"And then, while you're at it, let's bloom a flower?"

Physicists believe it can be explained from a physical perspective, but it is beyond the scope of current technology; military experts, on the other hand, tend to think it is a "fake flag" performance, and that the white-robed man may be involved in the conspiracy of the Shan tribe; as for theologians, they have shown unprecedented excitement.

"If we insist on using our existing cognitive framework to deny things we cannot understand, then what's the difference between us and those who refuse to believe that the Earth is a sphere?"

Another reporter from the opposite side, who was a bald eagle, quickly stood up, pointed at the priest, and roared: "The planet Earth is flat, flat, you ignorant lunatics!"

In reality, nobody cares what these experts are discussing; everyone is just watching the drama unfold, frantically watching the drama from this perspective, trying their best to squeeze themselves into this drama feast.

Most people don't like listening to these guys analyze the truth or falsehood, or rather, they don't actually care about the truth or falsehood.

Whether it's true or false, in most cases it has nothing to do with their lives.

Kind people simply hope that a god exists and can save these poor people.

The wicked are worried and harbor ulterior motives, pondering how to find their own interests in this matter.

Governments around the world immediately began investigations.

Judging from his appearance, Beria's appearance was quite distinctive.

His eyebrows, eyes, and cheekbones resembled those of a highland Caucasian, but the soft lines of his face also subtly revealed some Eastern features. As for the guards around him, they were all strange and colorful, and apart from looking fierce, they had absolutely nothing in common with each other.

Logically speaking, it shouldn't be difficult to investigate such a distinctive team.

The mercenaries' identities were quickly revealed.

An elite squad belonging to a security company of the Bald Eagle, a group of foreign mercenaries hired from Amiens, and several protectors who had appeared in Southern Aisha before, marked as terrorists by the Ganges Federation, and whose original faith was Buddhism.

These people come from all over the world and have all sorts of beliefs. Their only commonality is that they serve this mysterious "disabled old man".

However, they couldn't find out Beria's identity no matter what they tried.

"Keep investigating. We must find out who this person is!"

"Investigate his movements, physical characteristics, clothing, accent, and the mercenaries around him!"

"Thoroughly investigate all information and channels related to this guy. I need to know which sect he belongs to, who he is working for, and what his purpose is."

"Unconventional events beyond our control should not exist!"

Of course, among all these forces, if we were to say which one would find this most unacceptable, it would undoubtedly be the Fen Clan.

Later that day, a video surfaced showing reporters interviewing some of the Anchor City's followers after Beria's sermon, their gratitude and fervor practically overflowing from the screen.

The final interview dealt a major blow to the anti-fan group.

It was a woman who was about forty years old. Her rough, large hands held a child of five or six years old, revealing a long scar on the back of her hand that stretched from the base of her fingers all the way to her wrist inside her clothes. It was hard to tell exactly how long it was.

The child she held in her arms was very thin, with his ribs protruding one by one, as if he were wearing a tight-fitting striped shirt.

When facing the camera, the woman spoke in a hoarse voice.

"His grandfather was killed by a bomb last year."

"This year, a bomb took away my two children. When I came back, it was too late to save them. I could only watch them die."

"Last month, the child's father lost his leg in an explosion. While he was being treated in the hospital, he was caught in another bombing raid and buried under bricks. He has not been found yet."

The child shifted uncomfortably and pressed his face against his mother's.

The woman gently patted the child's back.

"This is my only child, my last relative."

“We are all going to die. The Fen tribe will not let us live. I wait every day, waiting for the bombs to fall on our heads.”

"By the protection of the Most High God!"

"We did not die today."

Later that day, mainstream media platforms on Earth began a large-scale crackdown on the video.

Unfortunately, today's Earth is not only home to white-speaking media platforms; Dongxia's social media also covers most of the world.

When they realized that they could not cut off information online no matter what they did, the leaders of the instigators resorted to their most proficient methods.

kill!

Kill this damn guy!

Aren't they afraid of the gods?

Of course I'm not afraid!
What gods are there?
If such beings truly existed, how could they tolerate those who even demons couldn't look them in the eye?

(End of this chapter)