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

The scent of this cursed spirit... seems a bit off! It's mixed with so much positive energy!

But the next moment, the bearded man screamed, pointing in terror at the gathered human figures, and shrieked.

From his perspective, he saw Messiah stand up expressionlessly, shave his beard, and then raise his right hand at a 45-degree angle towards him.

—Hey hey hey, it's time for revenge!

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.

P.S.: I searched for ages but couldn't find the meme about Jesus shaving his beard after his resurrection, becoming an artist, and saying he was going to take revenge.

884

Welcome to the boundless fantasy continent.

603. Powerful degreasing agent, Teacher Daye

As we all know, Teacher Daye is a very generous person.

Such tolerance and magnanimity are not only reflected in the fact that he did not hold a grudge against the Jews even after they killed him, but also in the fact that he did not care at all when others made fun of his hell.

After all, with so many crosses on earth, aren't they all making a mockery of his hell? Did you see him jump out to object?

If there's no objection, it means you agree. Since you agree, then drive as hard as you can!

Liao Junyun Yang Tuoxiu Doujiao Shunhuan Yu

This imaginary spirit—no, it should be said that someone had already done this before him!

The idea of ​​summoning a fictitious spirit of Jesus had been done before him, but in a completely opposite way.

The text appears to be a jumbled collection of characters and symbols, possibly from different sources. A direct translation isn't meaningful without further context or clarification.

However, this path is the opposite of the path of the cursed spirit.

Positive energy—or rather, the energy generated by the reversal technique, the energy that can heal injuries and benefit the body, but which is impossible to gather.

It's similar to Tianyuan's immortality technique, but the difference is that the entity generated by this energy doesn't have its own will...

No, so it really is Tianyuan's body? (The rest of the text appears to be gibberish and unrelated.)

He didn't believe that this was something Tianyuan would do; rather, he thought there was only one person in the world capable of doing so.

"Crimson King...you want to create Jesus? For what purpose?"

The text appears to be a jumbled collection of characters and symbols, possibly from different sources. A direct translation isn't meaningful without further context or clarification.

Could it be that he's trying to pull some villainous trick to control Jesus? No, no, no, that would be too boring. Surely he's not trying to summon the real Jesus!

However, the pineapple was shredded and the leaves were scrambled ...

After all, this Jesus is clearly still a cursed spirit in essence...

Hehe, this is even more fun!

Just then, the remaining spirits of the demons and the shrewd merchants were revealed, and the spirits of the demons and the shrewd merchants were revealed.

And the sparse and swollen K-shaped craftsman, the swollen ...

The existence of this hypothetical cursed spirit is ambiguous. Not because it lacks a physical form, but because it simultaneously possesses too many possibilities.

One moment you see a Latino face, the next it transforms into a Middle Eastern silhouette, and the next it reveals African features. This constantly shifting ambiguity creates a strong sense of dizziness for the viewer, like a lens that's perpetually out of focus.

But for some people, it is a mirror that directly reflects their fears.

Just like the bearded man lying on the ground now, [the text abruptly ends here, likely due to an incomplete sentence or a formatting error].

The cursed spirit Jesus spoke, but no sound came from its mouth. Yet the sound exploded in everyone's mind.

Greek, Latin, Aramaic, Coptic, Syriac, Armenian, Georgian, Slavic, Germanic, Celtic... all the languages ​​that have been used to pray to this Son of God for two thousand years have now come together to form a single sentence with the same meaning.

Why did you call me back?

His tone lacked any of the compassion and patience of the good man described in the records; instead, it was a direct interrogation, like the displeased voice of someone roughly dragged from a long sleep.

The text appears to be a jumbled collection of characters and symbols, possibly from different sources. A direct translation isn't meaningful without further context or clarification.

“Look,” he said, his voice trembling with excitement, “what have I finally created?”

This cursed Jesus stands in the very center of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

If you don't look at his face, he looks like a humanoid tree nailed to a cross, or something that doesn't belong to this world, barely wrapped in a humanoid cloak.

It exudes not only a mysterious aura, but also a powerful, ethereal presence. It's impossible to describe it precisely, but perhaps this is the form of power created by so-called 'faith'.

It is the prayers, repentance, praise, pleas, accusations, doubts, and despair of hundreds of millions of human souls over two thousand years, forcibly shaped into an anthropomorphic form based on the body of Tianyuan as a container.

It lowered its head and looked at the flounder, and a fleeting expression crossed its face—an extremely brief, almost never-before-seen emotion.

It is fear.

This mastermind, who had been plotting for millennia and cared nothing for the lives of everyone, including himself, instinctively trembled upon seeing the creation of his own hands. That tremor did not come from reason, nor from any analysis, but from pure, soul-deep fear.

884 >>

When an incomprehensible being, far beyond your cognitive boundaries, stares at you, your instinct is only one word—run.

But the demon was covered in dung, and the leech was not a shell of wood. The worm was covered in dung, and the worm was covered in tangible metal. The worm was covered in tangible metal ...

The Vatican priests were the first to kneel, their knees striking the stone slabs with a dull thud, their foreheads pressed against the shadow cast by the descending 'Lord'!

“Lord,” the old priest’s voice was as dry and cracked as a riverbed, “Lord, we have been waiting for you for a very, very long time!”

But the tone was less one of worship and joy, and more one of masking fear.

Those Americans were completely bewildered—although they had recited 'Jesus' from childhood to adulthood, they had never actually believed in him for even a single second.

Rather, it's more accurate to say that they had previously joined Jewish circles and worshipped those golden bull statues and the like—meeting the Son of God was never part of their life plans!

Even if he isn't the true Holy Son, but merely a mere imaginary cursed spirit...

They gritted their teeth, first suppressing their desire to directly control the other person, and then immediately put on a sorrowful expression.

"Lord, we call upon you because the world is being destroyed."

The leading chaebol heir raised his head, met those empty eyes for a second, and then immediately lowered his head. It wasn't out of awe, but because his retina was being burned by that cold light, like the afterimage left after staring at the sun for too long. Looking at it for even a second felt like his brain was burning.

“A demon is ruling this world,” he continued, his voice trembling, “Dongalos, the Crimson King!”

The moment the name was uttered, the temperature inside the church plummeted by more than ten degrees, as if the words "Crimson King" themselves were a curse, corrupting everything around them. The dark red liquid that had seeped from the ground during the creation of the cursed spirit Jesus became even more viscous, like semi-congealed blood plasma.

“Nobody knows where it came from,” he said through gritted teeth, each word seemingly ripped from his chest. “It appeared over Japan, bringing pain and death to the whole world! It’s a disaster, it’s everywhere, it leaves no one in peace!”

"We have nowhere else to turn, Lord! We have no choice but to come to you!"

The Vatican priests also wept, revealing souls as exposed and trembling as the ordinary believers they shepherded.

"The Crimson King, Dongarros? The Crimson King? Dongarros? Dongarros..."

The cursed spirit Jesus repeatedly chewed over and repeated the word, as if it were somewhat familiar, yet somewhat doubtful, repeating it several times before stopping.

"So you want me to deal with him?" the Cursed Jesus asked, looking at them meaningfully.

“You have conquered death,” a priest looked up, tears streaming down his wrinkled face like rain washing over a dry riverbed.

"You died on the cross and rose again on the third day. You broke the chains of death and gave us the promise of eternal life. If there is anyone in this world who can stand against that being, it must be you—our Lord, our Savior, the only begotten Son of God, Jesus Christ!"

He opened his arms in a gesture of embrace, but the embrace wasn't for the object in front of him; it was for an image of Jesus he had constructed in his mind—a benevolent, smiling figure with outstretched arms. He was embracing that image, not the entity standing before him.

That way he can deceive himself into believing that he has not committed any heretical acts of betrayal or blasphemy.

"Please grant me a miracle! Please save this world! Please—"

"Miracle."

He repeated the word. The pronunciation was perfect modern English, but the intonation was flat, without any rise and fall, like a machine reciting a word it didn't understand.

"You want me to perform a miracle, don't you?"

They didn't speak, but knelt on the ground in silence, their pleas and intentions completely exposed.

They were indeed praying for a miracle, or to put it another way, they were simply praying for yet another scapegoat to take all their sins and then obediently go to heaven.

“Five traitors who have turned away from my teachings, twelve lowly heretics abandoned by my Father, four cultists who worshipped Baal, and one heretic who has committed a great sin.”

"You want me to bear your sins once again and die for you, don't you?"

His tone was flat and straightforward, but his words were gripping and questioning, yet no one responded.

“A miracle, impressive.” A disturbing smile appeared on the face of the cursed Jesus.

Before they could even breathe a sigh of relief, he said in a matter-of-fact tone...

884>>>>

Before they could even breathe a sigh of relief, he said in a matter-of-fact tone...

"Then come and exchange it with me for the soap made by the Jews."

The scene was deathly silent; no one seemed to believe what they had just heard.

"Exchange the lives and suffering of the Jews for a miracle from me." As if deliberately considering their needs and fearing they might not understand, the cursed Jesus repeated it considerately, even with a smile in his tone.

"I prefer you to offer me soap."

"How dare you! This is anti-Semitic—" Upon hearing this, the Jewish priests, led by the bearded men, almost instinctively jumped up, speaking in their usual victim-like tone.

Then, in the next moment, everyone saw a small, mustachioed face that was sneering at them from the face of the cursed Jesus.

Fear instantly shattered the Jewish man's defenses, leaving the remaining summoners stunned and incredulous.

"What the hell did you summon?!" The Americans stared at the monstrous skeleton.

Are you sure we summoned Jesus, and not XTL?!

"Oh dear, I already told you it's a cursed spirit." (The rest of the text appears to be a fragment and doesn't translate directly.)

"He was driven by people's fear, so isn't it perfectly reasonable for him to turn around and seek revenge on those who killed him?"

"I remember your Holy Son was betrayed and killed by the Jews, but I think he himself could also be considered a Jew?"

The Americans no longer listen to the rhetoric of the government; they no longer rely on foreign policy.

"We cannot meet your request. Could you please suggest something else...?"

"I was just kidding," the Cursed Jesus suddenly said with a smile, seemingly reverting to his former image as the infinitely loving Holy Son, speaking softly.