From the God of Lies to the Lord of All Worlds

Chapter 45 The Hidden History of the Aztecs

"Get up, Jerome!"

His companion pulled back the curtain on Jerome's tent, waking him from his sleep and letting him know that a new day had begun.

He vaguely followed his teammates, collecting breakfast, clothes, flags, and hoods, and then, under the direction of a man also wearing a hood, headed toward the street they were supposed to go that day.

"Today, our goal is to drive those damn grey and green dogs out of our streets through this march!" the leader shouted. "This is our home, our territory, and they have no right to drive us out!"

The others echoed, "Yes, they have no right to kick us out!"

Jerome also shouted twice, showing extra effort in order to get the food.

He had no choice; as an "illegal immigrant" who had smuggled himself in from Central America, he had no option but to join the march, or he would go hungry.

But if he joins the march, he will be driven away by those fierce-looking police and soldiers. His leg, which was hit by a rubber bullet yesterday, is still aching!
Therefore, after obtaining the food and flag, Jerome began to move towards the middle of the crowd, which was generally the safest place and would not be the first target of the police.

But this time, for some reason, he seemed to become the target of the police. Rubber bullets and batons were hitting him repeatedly, and iron handcuffs appeared out of nowhere and were put on his hands.

"Don't catch me! Don't catch me!" Jerome cried out, suddenly waking up from his dream.

He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling before him, then slowly breathed a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, he is still the "Pope" revered by all, not the "illegal immigrant" on the streets he once was.

Jerome was about to get out of bed to find something to eat when he raised his arm and was completely awakened by the feeling of being bound and the cold touch!

He raised his hand, and a pair of champagne-colored handcuffs were put on his wrists, bringing him to his full sober.

So being handcuffed wasn't a dream after all? Only this bed is real.

"Bang!" The iron gate was pushed open, and two fully armed police officers walked in and stood in front of Geron. "Are you awake?"

"Looks like he's awake!"

The two looked at each other, then stepped forward and pulled Jerome up, holding his hands on either side, and lifted him off the bed.

Jerome struggled, “Let me go! I want to see my lawyer, I want to see Detective Smith of the Los Angeles Police Department! You have no right to detain me!”

Unfortunately, the two officers were very strong, and his struggles were useless. They didn't answer him at all, put him in a restraint chair, and walked away.

Across from Jerome's room, through a one-way window, a group of people were observing him.

Gao and Joris formed a joint interrogation team, staring at the man in front of them and looking at the documents in their hands.

“It’s strange. If I didn’t know he was shot in the head yesterday, I would find it hard to believe that such a normal test report came from the body of a chosen one!” Joris said.

It was clear that he had the upper hand in the interrogation; Gao simply watched without saying a word.

However, Professor Peyton Edwards, who was standing next to them, had a different opinion.

For the old professor, these past two weeks have been a true rollercoaster of ups and downs...

After all, he had studied Mesoamerican mythology his whole life and never imagined that he would be able to truly come into contact with the beings in the myths at this age!

He flipped through the information everyone had given him, deeply regretting that he was in San Francisco yesterday instead of Los Angeles, otherwise he could have witnessed the battle between the two creators, the Wind God and the Rain God!
“There are many kinds of divine descent. In their mythology, there are both divine gifts that grant power and divine descents that are secret. I guess the one that happened to him was the second kind!” Peyton said.

Upon hearing this, Joris asked curiously, "Then, Professor Edwards, is there any way to get some information from him?"

Peyton nodded. "I have a general idea. Let me try it out!" As a renowned mythologist, he had some knowledge of certain Aztec customs, so he turned on the loudspeaker and recited a very mysterious prayer in an ancient language:

"Let the golden dust of the rising sun soak into the corn cobs,"

Let the purple veil of twilight cover the pyramid's apex;

The toads echoed the drumbeats of the rainy season.
The cracks in the star trails reflected in the jaguar's pupils—

Oh, the spirit of all things!
We offer up cochineal insects dyed with dew.

In exchange for your weaving of a rainbow bridge between life and death!

The ancient words seemed to toll the bell of destiny, and the bewildering notes seemed to trigger the final illusion, instantly calming the previously confused Jerome down.

His body suddenly stiffened, and his eyes suddenly went black, then turned into a pure blue, with a special light, appearing before them!
"Who... is calling upon all spirits?" The sound of the bell resonating could be heard by everyone, but it was not harsh; rather, it sounded rather dull!

"What is this? A divine descent?" Joris asked warily. He couldn't accept it if this professor's words brought another world-ending crisis to their city!

Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent god and creator in Aztec mythology, might not have left yet!
Seeing the worries of Joris and the others, Peyton shook his head with a smile, "Of course not. I'm not a priest or a chieftain. I haven't taken up any sacred objects, lit any sacred fire, or performed any blood sacrifices. Where would I connect with their gods?"

"This is a spirit communication technique recorded on an ancient stone tablet. It allows us to connect with special spirits and the spirits of all things, so that we can communicate with them!"

Peyton also remarked with emotion, "We always thought these were just ancient sacrificial sayings, but now it seems they are more than just sayings; they may be signs of divine power manifesting itself!"

Peyton certainly didn't have divine power, so he naturally assumed that he was using the other party's power.

But the next second, the old man fainted, making the special interrogation room noisy!

Soon, the doctors' findings came back, and they also woke Professor Payton up.

"Sir, it's anemia!" they said. "Professor Payton has severe anemia and needs immediate emergency treatment!"

“No! This isn’t anemia!” Payton shouted, lying flat on the bed. “This is the price, the price for using psychic abilities! Chief, ask the questions now, quick!”

After saying that, he fainted again.

Upon hearing this, Joris turned around abruptly, looked at "Jeron" whose eyes were glowing blue, and said, "Have the Aztec gods returned?"

"The gods will not return. This is not the main realm; it is merely one of the realms, not that important," "Jeron" replied. Upon hearing this, Joris and Gao immediately exchanged a glance. The message conveyed in those words was already quite profound!
Gao immediately spoke up, continuing, "Then why have they never revealed themselves in these past few centuries?"

If the gods were present, why were these Native Americans beaten so badly?
"The gods have decreed that they will fall into eternal slumber, and all sacrifices and prayers will no longer be answered!" The answer remained calm and serene, but something it conveyed was enough to shock many!

Joris then asked, "What does the return of the gods now mean?"

"The gods have awakened, connections have been rebuilt, and some gods have remembered this world—that's all." Wanling's calm reply prompted the two to brainstorm even faster!
Gao continued, "Why would the gods want to destroy the world? Don't they care about their believers?"

"The gods don't need believers; believers need the gods! And the gods can be malevolent or benevolent. To the gods, the birth and death of the world, the life and death of believers, are all just a matter of a single thought..."

"Ha, of course His Majesty Quetzalcoatl is petty and easily angered... or as you would say, grumpy when he wakes up?"

The next second, something as if a grand narrative swept past them, making their hair stand on end, and the psychic communication suddenly stopped.

It was as if a tremendous malice flashed by, but it did not linger here.

Jerome stopped speaking, and the two people in front of him fell into a long silence in the face of this answer.

(End of this chapter)