From the God of Lies to the Lord of All Worlds

Chapter 92: Historical Evidence

"The molten sword of Saint Michael is defined here:"

South to the Mississippi River humus layer,

It extends north to the Great Lakes glacial till bedrock.
All who suck human blood will decay into pillars of salt.

Those who worship the fangs will forever be condemned to boiling tar!

Because the Lord once declared:
"I will make all wild beasts disappear from the Promised Land."

Amen!

A special choir of priests and nuns chanted a prayer called "Expelling from the Abyss," a special prayer document that Professor Thomas obtained at Trinity Church in New York. It was the only known prayer document from the Civil War era that was effective against such documents.

Another prayer is a special prayer about all spirits that Professor Peyton Edwards recited when Gao was in Los Angeles.

However, it is a great pity that after the "All Spirits" was first summoned and made a criticism about the feathered serpent god, it never responded to the summons again.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!" Three clear chimes rang in everyone's ears, waking Gao from his memories and announcing the end of the ceremony.

In the eyes of the public, the Lincoln Cemetery, which had been quiet and unassuming, underwent a transformation after the tolling of the bells.

From the granite tomb came the sound of stones rolling, and then, in front of the clergy, agents and police officers assisting in the operation, the huge granite obelisk was moved backward a short distance!
"My God!" Everyone exclaimed in unison, looking up at the building before them, at the obelisk moving, at the bronze statue that had suddenly shifted, their eyes filled with shock.

“If I remember correctly, 1865 was still the steam age, wasn’t it?” Gao murmured. “Could the steam age have produced such a moving mechanical structure?”

Chris shook his head. "That would be very difficult, sir!"

That's why it's called a miracle!

The existence of such great power can hardly be attributed to "technology," but only to "mystery."

Among those present were quite a few "locals" who held Gao and his group in utter contempt for their actions, such as the choir and the police officers who had been brought in to maintain order.

In their hearts, they actually thought it was just another bunch of clowns from Washington, doing some mysterious "presumptuous" tricks, then nothing would happen, and they would slink away in disgrace.

They had even already planned how they would mock these people from the capital after they left.

Now, they can't laugh anymore.

Is there really a "mysterious" existence behind this building that has existed in Illinois for over a hundred years? And how come the locals know nothing about it?
As everyone stared in disbelief, the bronze statue slowly moved away, revealing a hollow space large enough for an adult to enter.

Gao straightened his clothes and stepped forward.

"Sir, be careful, there's danger inside!" Chris said hurriedly.

Gao didn't pause in his steps. "I believe that a great leader who led America from division to unity would not leave anything here that could harm others!"

"Since there's a way to open this tomb, there must be a reason for letting us in!"

“I believe this is what he hoped for. He hoped that one day we could find this place, retrieve his belongings, and thus fulfill his unfinished wish!”

As a typical white man, Gao had heard stories about Mr. Lincoln since he was a child, so he was exceptionally confident.

Seeing that his superiors had already gone inside, Chris drew his pistol and gestured for the men behind him to follow. The tomb was not large, just big enough for a few people to stand upright. In the center of the tomb, an oak coffin lay flat, looking quite ordinary.

Gao stood inside the tomb, gazing at the almost identical granite formations around him, a thoughtful expression on his face.

He hesitated about whether to open Lincoln's coffin. Although he was sure there was something they needed inside, he also knew that with Lincoln's immense prestige in the country, he wouldn't be far from retirement after doing this.

It might also attract some crazy individuals who would hold him on a private trial under the pretext of "blasphemy."

Although it's surreal, this is America, so this behavior is quite reasonable.

Just as he was still thinking, Chris's voice had already caught his attention, "Sir, there seems to be something here... hiss!"

Hearing the sound, Gao turned around and found that Chris had covered his finger, and a red line was slowly seeping out from his fingertip.

"Remember to get vaccinated when we get back. We don't know if there's anything else in this tomb!" Gao said with a sigh of relief, it seemed that the other person had only been pricked by some sharp wooden splinters.

But just as he was thinking this, the coffin in front of him made a violent grinding sound, and then with a "bang," it disintegrated before their very eyes.

The oak coffin lid flew outwards with tremendous force, landing squarely on an unlucky agent who had just entered, sending him flying out of the tomb along with him.

But now, the people inside the tomb didn't have much time to pay attention to the unlucky guy who had been thrown out; instead, they focused their attention on the center of the completely disintegrated coffin.

This coffin should rightfully contain the name of America's greatest president—Abraham Lincoln!
But to everyone's surprise, there was no corpse in front of them, only a rotting suit, which turned into fragile fibers and drifted away in the air with the movement of the air.

"This is a fake tomb?" Gao's face showed a look of fear. How could this be? The National Library, the National Archives, and other official American documents all explained this in detail.

They had checked the records many times before they arrived, but the truth before them told them that the records were actually fake.

The president is indeed dead, but his body is not here.

But as the suit disappeared, the markings on the coffin's location caught Gao's attention. He took a flashlight from an agent nearby and shone it on the spot in front of him.

There, some special silver particles shimmered, but they didn't look real, as if something was missing.

Thinking of this, Gao Fu, as if guided by his own mind, pulled Chris over and pressed his still-bleeding finger here!
The next moment, beads of blood gushed from Chris's fingers and continued to flow toward this spot, imprinting themselves on the bottom of the coffin before their very eyes, causing some characters to gradually appear.

"I am Lincoln, these are the words I wrote before I die."

Before their eyes, the blood triggered a hidden mark at the bottom of the coffin, and a silvery-white light suddenly shone, revealing lines of vertically and itally intertwined text—Lincoln's distinctive rough handwriting:
"I do not expect any later Americans to open my grave, which would mean that a disaster that had been averted has recurred."

But now that you have made your choice, I, Lincoln, the sixteenth president of America, gravedigger, guardian, papal knight, and vampire hunter, hereby write my final words of warning:

If any dark creatures reappear on the continent, I can use the blood of my descendants to open the southeast corner of the tomb's stone wall, retrieve Abraham's silver axe, and slay the evil that has betrayed the past covenant!

This straightforward statement, devoid of any embellishment, exudes an undeniable authority.

The blood that should have flowed instead transformed into a faint silver light at the bottom of the coffin, reflecting the astonishing words onto the faces of everyone present.

McDowell's notes, which were originally regarded as "unofficial history," suddenly gained irrefutable evidence.

In an instant, the course of history abruptly changed...

(End of this chapter)