Having traversed countless realms, can you possibly be as clever as me?

Then, in a rather wicked way, Tsurugi conducted a poll for him—betting on how many Americans wanted this president to suffer and die.

The answer is that, in the one-hour vote, a full 350 million out of 400 million people wanted to see their president suffer a gruesome death!

Part of the reason is the president's various inhumane behaviors after his second term, but a larger part of the reason lies with Tsurugi.

Tsugumi has proven herself.

He is the strong one; he can bring miracles; he can invoke divine revelation; he provides the virtuous with a direct route to heaven.

Therefore, he is the sole saint and the answer, transcending all patriotism and faith.

You won, not because you are strong, but because you are God's chosen people, while we have chosen God's outcasts.

This strange theory of winning truly permeated the spiritual guidance of the entire nation. If it weren't for its short duration, they probably would have unhesitatingly established a completely new religion centered around the Dongjiang River. The exciting chapter "Chapter 318" is now available online, click http://

Amid the Grand President's desperate screams and furious curses, the magicians' torture began.

With just a glass of wine and a plate of peanuts, Dongjiang happily watched the torturous performance.

But in the end, when Faldius looked up, Tsurugi was no longer there.

This shows that their performance still failed to please the saint and did not satisfy him.

Faldius turned deathly pale and nearly collapsed to the ground, while behind him, Orlando and his servant Alexandre Dumas stepped forward.

“I’ve said it before, he’s just kidding us,” Orlando said in a deep voice.

"No matter how humble you are, he will not stop what he is doing. Because what he is doing for us is something he is not capable of doing."

"What else can we do?" Faldius growled.

"He ordered us to kill everyone who had ever been to that island, but that can't be done in three days!!!"

He looked at the Grand Commander beside him, who seemed to be able to die but couldn't. Even this formidable figure was nothing more than a scapegoat. There was a group of people who were even more deeply hidden and had even escaped the natural disaster. Some of them were directly using Faldius to test the waters of the Tsurugi River for them.

What can he do? He wants these scumbags dead too! But they are a bunch of scumbags. Do you expect these self-deceiving, evil, greedy, and shameless people to sacrifice themselves for the world?

They will only hide deeper and better, and then pour themselves a drink when everyone else is buried with them, deceiving themselves into thinking it was all worth it!

"We can only try to get rid of him!" Orlando said decisively.

Orlando silently took out a bloodstained, sharp object, while Dumas, standing beside him, continued...

“Brother, this is indeed part of the Spear of Destiny. The magicians of the Clock Tower didn’t lie to you, but…”

“That’s enough.” Orlando’s eyes burned like flames, flames filled with revenge and pain, obsession and justice.

"We'll forge it into a treasure weapon; we're going to kill that saint!"

Faldius watched Orlando and the others leave, but he had almost lost all hope.

At this moment, Francesca suddenly appeared out of nowhere again.

"Oh dear, is Mr. Faldius in despair? Why is he so lacking in vitality?"

Faldius coldly watched the mocking little girl beside him; at this moment, he no longer even had any intention of retaliating against her.

“That won’t do, Mr. Faldius. Only by continuing to struggle can we succeed! How can we demonstrate the greatness and resilience of humanity if we give up so easily?”

Francesca's words sounded encouraging, but the underlying irony was impossible to hide.

But as if she had been prepared all along, she suddenly produced a blood-stained shroud in front of Faldius.

"So, I've brought you a treasure that can summon the savior~~~~"

She spoke slowly, her voice barely able to contain her faith.

"This is a shroud, stained with the blood of the true savior. Take it, Mr. Faldius, you have one last day. Use it to summon the one who can save the world!"

Faldius's lips trembled slightly as he looked at the blood-stained cloth in front of him and stood up with difficulty and a stagger.

He gripped the blood-stained cloth tightly in his hand. Did he trust Francesca? Of course not, but now he had no other choice.

Even if there's only a one in a million chance, or even if it's completely impossible, he can't accept sitting and waiting for death.

Francesca watched him leave with the cloth with a mocking smile, her eyes gleaming with malice.

"We've finally reached the last step."

Her hand gently caressed her soft chest, lingered on her abdomen, and then plunged into the gaping, bloody maw, letting the closed mouth tear off her arm and swallow it, amidst the excruciating pain.

318

A blush rose on her cheeks as she savored the comfort of gluttony, and she said coquettishly.

"Ahhhhh, go save the world, great Messiah!"

226. The 'Savior' arrives, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse assemble!

Inside a dimly lit altar, Faldius stood before it, surrounded by apprehensive spectators.

They are part of those wicked blasphemers, those sinners who bring the world to trial.

They proclaim themselves to be the masters of the world, the behind-the-scenes manipulators, the promoters of order, and great men!

But in the next 24 hours, the whole world is hunting them.

Ordinary people hunt them, magicians hunt them, the Holy Church hunts them, and even the Dead Apostles hunt them!

What did they do wrong?!

Since the gods never reveal their existence and never tell them what to do, what's wrong with doing these blasphemous things in order to establish a connection with them?

It's God's fault, it's Jesus' fault, it's God's fault!

Their repeated blasphemy is merely an attempt to fill their own emptiness. They are without sin; Jesus should bear their sins!

But these self-deceiving lies are only done because they know there is no God.

Now, God exists, and God sent down his messengers to bring destruction, and they know that their end is death and endless torment after death!

Their desperate situation led them to begin calling upon Jesus.

With an almost impossible mindset, they set up a magic circle, offered up the most sinful soul among them as a sacrifice, and... began the summoning.

Can Jesus be summoned down as a follower?

Impossible, absolutely impossible.

The Lord's existence far surpasses that of all gods; He is the God above gods! The Holy Grail cannot even summon gods, so how could it summon the Holy Son?

In the world of magic, this is more incredible and foolish than destroying the world!

But they don't care about so much when they're just grasping at straws. Because they're already desperate, they'll try everything they can.

Suddenly, a pale light shone into the dim space, illuminating the faces of the sinners in the stands and making their creases stand out. The anxiety in their eyes was instantly replaced by ecstasy.

"He has come! He has answered us!"

Someone couldn't help but scream, clasped their hands together, and knelt on the ground, tears mixed with snot streaming down their face.

At first, it was just a silhouette, blurry at the edges, as if viewed through frosted glass. But gradually, it became clear: long, flowing hair, outstretched arms, a bowed head. A white robe, bare feet, and bloodstains on the ankles.

Some people started to cry.

"It is Him..."

"Jesus...it's Jesus..."

“He came, He answered us, He forgave us—”

"We are innocent, no one can judge us!!!"

"Jesus, cast out the Antichrist who impersonates you!!!"

Ecstasy spread like a plague among the crowd. Those once arrogant masterminds, those blasphemers who boasted of controlling the world, now knelt on the ground like children, tears streaming down their faces. Some stretched out their arms, some tore at their clothes, some banged their foreheads against the stone slabs, murmuring repentance.

Because what they saw was the Savior, the Gentle Shepherd, the One who was willing to die for sinners.

At this moment, they seemed to have collectively forgotten how they had blasphemed the holy son before them on that island, how they had worshipped Baal, and how they had indulged in cruel and vicious acts.

In any case, Jesus will bear all the sins!

Wasn't this the purpose of his coming into the world? To bear our sins!

But Faldius did not move. He stood still, staring at the gradually solidifying image, his pupils slowly contracting.

As the summoner with the least sinful crime here, he saw it.

Faldius's brain screamed silently. He tried to look away, but his pupils were fixed on that face. He tried to back away, but his legs wouldn't move.

His cognition was crumbling; he was screaming silently, wanting to warn, but unable to utter a single word.

—He is not ^%&*, He is (*^!@!!!

"No, I am."

He looked at Faldius, as if he could read his mind; his kind yet chilling smile gleamed with a cold light that sent shivers down one's spine.

“I come from Canaan, and I have always been an object of worship for you people, especially since your broker worships me so much on the island, hasn’t he?”

"Oh, my dear children."

Jesus walked with a smile, stepping over the blood on the ground. He looked at those who were kneeling before him, pleading, or speaking to him in a commanding tone, without any anger.

He extended his hand to them and said softly.

"I will bear all your sins. Now, let me lead you into heaven."

He spoke with a smile, and then Faldius saw a cold, steel-like machine, as if it were made of iron. Jesus looked at them and said with a smile.

Go in, and you will become angels, you will become holy, you will escape Judgment Day, you will ascend to Heaven.

I love you all

With joy, these people stepped into the machine, closing and entering, closing and entering, and the machine grew larger with each step, emitting pleasant music.

Faldius was the last to enter. The moment the cold machine closed, Faldius's brain and soul were left with only one thought, a thought that he could only shriek silently now.

Pain, endless, crushes the soul into every piece, spreads pain to every cell and every atom, and then the pain is magnified infinitely!

The pain of having every nerve individually extracted, soaked in a mixture of chili water and sulfuric acid, and then torn apart bit by bit is nothing compared to this one ten-thousandth!

"I love you all."

In the midst of endless, boundless suffering, the Savior spoke softly.

The third day has arrived.