American Evil God, starting with the American rebel leader raising poisonous insects.

Chapter 139 Am I going to die too? I won't die!

"Great! Very good! You're full of energy!"

Luo Huan looked through the red bead at the red-necked man sitting on the shattered throne and shouted excitedly.

The bead floated in the center of the divine kingdom's observation platform, its surface flowing with a dark red light, like congealed blood slowly rotating.

The image of Washington is reflected inside the bead:

The Lincoln Memorial ruins: shattered marble, collapsed columns, and Carl Jensen sitting on the rubble.

He sat upright with his hands on his knees, his eyes looking out the door, but his pupils were unfocused.

A thin layer of dark red aura covered the body's surface; that was the [Blood Flag Domain] operating autonomously, but its intensity was unstable, sometimes bright and sometimes dim.

"Although the Dragon's deliberate concession made the performance more like a human game, Lucian's skillful play made up for it."

Luo Huan tilted her head and grinned.

"Excellent work, reward!"

She lifted her foot.

She wasn't wearing shoes, only white stockings, her toes were slender, and the arch of her feet was beautifully curved.

The stockings had a fine silver thread weave pattern on the surface, which shimmered coldly under the light of the divine kingdom.

She stepped on the red beads with her ice cream.

The movement was very light, like stepping into warm mud.

The surface of the bead is concave, with ripples spreading out.

The moment it comes into contact with the bead, energy begins to flow.

Vast, pure, and almost violent energy.

Come on, come on, come on!

Luo Huan spoke softly, her voice trembling with pleasure.

"How much of the eternal guilt and fury of a warrior can you bear?"

Energy infusion.

The redneck sat on the throne.

My mind went completely blank for a brief moment.

My hearing hasn't fully recovered yet; the world is silent except for the piercing scream of tinnitus.

The vision was blurred; the burning flames outside the door, the collapsed buildings, and the corpses lying haphazardly all turned into blocks of color, like splashed paint.

Then the feeling came.

It's not from the outside, it's from the inside.

Heat surges forth from the depths of the bone marrow, from the spaces between internal organs, and from the core of every cell.

It wasn't a warm heat, but a scorching heat, like molten iron pouring into blood vessels, rushing along arteries and veins, causing muscle spasms and bones to make a faint cracking sound wherever it passed.

A familiar feeling.

It is the Lord who is watching over him.

It is the Lord praising his performance.

It is the Lord————

"Lord, could you kill me?"

He murmured, his voice hoarse, like sandpaper being rubbed.

The body is now completely filled with energy.

From head to toe, from skin to internal organs, from nerve endings to the cerebral cortex, every corner was filled, with no gaps, no room, only a constant influx of more and more energy.

The soul is filled.

Squeezed.

It was stretched to the point of deformation.

Like a balloon blown to its limit, if you blow it one more time, it will burst.

Then it did explode.

It's not a physical explosion, but something more fundamental: self-awareness, memory, emotions, and cognition are all shattered into fragments, spinning, colliding, and recombining in a torrent of energy.

It cracks, breaks, and then reforms into the form the Lord desires.

The redneck felt like he was crying.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but were immediately evaporated by the high temperature on her skin, turning into white vapor that formed a thin mist around her face.

The effects of Lucien's power have been resisted, and the guilt and helplessness amplified by [Symphony of Fate] have gradually faded under the wash of energy.

But those emotions didn't disappear.

They simply sank, sank into the deepest recesses of consciousness, becoming background noise, forever whispering there:

You couldn't save anyone.

His wife died.

My daughter is dead.

My son is dead.

You can't protect anyone.

You are a piece of trash.

"I'm so tired."

The red-necked man closed his eyes.

But the Lord doesn't care.

Energy continues to be injected.

Luo Huan stared at the red bead.

The surface of the bead became brighter and brighter, changing from dark red to bright red, then to a dazzling scarlet, and finally began to turn white, like a red-hot iron block.

The internal structure is being reorganized.

The path is expanding.

The world's barriers have been broken down.

"Wow, that's quite a lot~"

Luo Huan laughed, then pressed down hard with her toes.

"Fill it up completely!"

Energy output intensity is increased.

The beads vibrated.

Then, it broke through.

An invisible barrier shattered, like glass being smashed by a hammer, the sound crisp, but it echoed no more in the Kingdom of God.

Silver level.

The [Wrath of Courage] pathway has been completed, and the promotion is finished.

New powers are being solidified:

[The body of a martyr].

Effect: Grants all teammates within the area a sacrifice mechanic, allowing them to endure pain, worsen injuries, and burn their life force in exchange for an exponential increase in strength, speed, and regeneration for a short period.

Simply put, the more miserable they are, the stronger they become.

Luo Huan withdrew her foot.

"Gulp... Am I going to die too?"

Luo Huan looked at the red neck in the beads.

He sat on the throne, his body trembling, not from fear, but from muscle spasms caused by an energy overload.

His eyes were closed, and there were traces of evaporating moisture on his face.

"No, no, no, you can die, but you can't die here. That would be too boring."

Luo Huan scratched her chin and thought for two seconds.

Then she stretched out her hand, extended her index finger, and made a virtual tap in the air.

"Think of those children, think of those who are waiting for you to come back."

Instructions are passed via path.

Images flashed through the redneck's mind.

It's not about forcibly instilling knowledge, it's about awakening it.

His wife lay on the hospital bed, her face gaunt and her eyes sunken, but she was still smiling as she looked at him.

A photo of her daughter Erica when she was little: blonde hair, blue eyes, hugging a teddy bear, and grinning at the camera.

When his son Mike was learning to walk for the first time, he wobbled and jumped into his arms, causing him to take a step back.

Then came New Canaan.

The faces of the children on the training field, Agatha Vanessa, and hundreds, thousands of others whose names he didn't know but whom he had seen before.

Their blank expressions as they lined up to receive nutrition blocks.

Their hands trembled as they picked up the gun.

Their voices, though young, were firm as they shouted, "Ascend the white jade throne!"

More than a million children.

Blurred faces converge into a gray sea.

Then a closer shot.

Aaron.

Dragging his broken leg, crawling with shrapnel embedded in his back, he was still trying to load a rocket launcher.

Then the missile fell.

Boom!

In the footage, Aaron's body is lifted up by the shockwave, tumbling in the air, his left arm and right leg detaching from his torso and spinning away. His upper body crashes to the ground, still moving, his fingers digging into the soil as he tries to crawl forward.

James Jones.

They set up machine guns at the bridgehead and fired at the armored vehicles on the other side.

Then the heavy machine gun swept in.

He rolled to dodge, but was shot in the left shoulder, his collarbone was shattered, and his entire arm hung down.

He operated the cannon with his right hand and continued firing until he was overturned by a rocket and rolled into a crater.

Stephen Taylor.

He led a few dozen men in an attempt to flank them, but they were surrounded.

In the street fighting amidst the ruins, one by one they fell, until only he remained. Leaning against the broken wall, he changed his magazine and continued firing.

Rednecks are visible.

He could always see it.

They just pretended not to see it.

Because we can't stop.

If it stops, it's all over.

"No!"

He suddenly opened his eyes and roared.

"I can't die!"

The sound echoed through the ruins of the memorial hall.

"I can't die yet!"

The Three Returns! Oops, wrong show.

He stood up.

The movements were a bit stiff because the energy was still flowing through the body, and the muscles needed to adapt to the new intensity.

But he stood up straight.

Look towards the door.

The city was burning, filled with the smoke of gunpowder, and the faint, still-continuous sound of gunfire could be heard in the distance.

"No way, Karl~ He only broke through one level?"

Luo Huan shook her head, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

She sensed the state of the path.

The energy infusion continued after breaking through the Silver level, attempting to break through the next barrier, but encountered obstacles.

Gold grade.

That requires more.

More scrutiny, more turmoil, more war.

"Keep it up, get to Gold rank quickly, and then I'll be right there!"

Luo Huan clenched her fist and waved it at the void.

She perceives the state of the world's barriers.

The once solid barrier is now riddled with holes by the four paths, like a so-called "half-virgin" that is not fully broken but is already full of holes and on the verge of collapse.

One more impact is all it takes.

A sufficiently strong internal shock.

For example, all four paths were promoted to the gold level.

Then she can reach out, tear open the cracks, pull the divine kingdom closer, and swallow reality.

"Hehe, I'm going to protect my world."

She spoke softly, and then transformed into a sweet and soft little white cat.

Washington, D.C., the White House underground command center.

Milk Dragon stared at the screen.

The footage is real-time video transmitted from a high-altitude reconnaissance aircraft. It has a high resolution and allows you to see the details in the ruins of the memorial hall.

Rednecks stand up.

The dark red halo on the body surface stabilized, becoming three times brighter than before, and also having an additional layer of pale gold edges.

That feeling —

"He sat down! He sat down!"

Milk Dragon muttered, then suddenly looked up and shouted into the communications station, "All units, fire! Fire missiles! Drive them out of Washington!"

The sound was transmitted via satellite phone.

At the same time, a golden light emanated from his body.

The power [Manifest Mandate] is activated at full strength.

The effect covered the entire Washington theater of operations.

All the Federation soldiers still fighting paused simultaneously, then their eyes turned fervent, their movements became precise, their firing rate increased, and their formation adjustments accelerated.

Like a wound-up machine.

After finishing these tasks, Milk Dragon turned and walked towards the safety door.

"Mr. President, where are you going?"

An advisor asked.

"Underground security facility."

The milk tap didn't even turn back.

"A missile is coming; I need to take cover."

He stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed.

on the ground.

Lucien stood on the roof of a half-collapsed building, looking up at the sky.

Because of the various explosions, the sky was cloudless and a blinding blue.

But he knew it was going to rain.

"It's going to rain, we should go find shelter."

He said it softly, then turned and jumped off the roof.

The movement was graceful, like a gymnast landing, bending her knees to cushion the impact, and then straightening up.

But he wasn't that handsome.

As soon as he landed, he saw three redneck passersby rush out from around the corner, carrying rifles.

Lucien raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

[Extreme Wave] Localized activation.

The three people froze simultaneously, their eyes widened, and they let out a silvery scream.

Lucien walked past them without looking back.

After taking a few steps, he stopped, turned around, and snapped his fingers again.

"Oh my gosh~ Let's all get hyped!"

Power fluctuations spread.

This time, instead of targeting a specific individual, he applied his "emotional threshold" directly to every living person in Washington, D.C.

In an instant, everyone—Federal soldiers, redneck passersby—felt a strange sense of excitement.

It wasn't joy, it wasn't anger, it was a pure, irrational, high feeling, like being on drugs.

Washington went completely mad at the last minute.

Then Lucien disappeared.

Okay, he wasn't that handsome, he was just a jerk! Relying on his silver-level physical abilities, he simply ran away on foot.

The missile is coming.

The first wave, twelve missiles, was launched from a military base in New York State.

Target: The Lincoln Memorial and the surrounding 500-meter area.

Fall, detonate.

bang

Flames engulfed the ruins.

The shockwave overturned all building debris within a 300-meter radius.

The second wave, consisting of twenty-four missiles, was launched from Delaware and Maryland.

Expanding the target area: the entire National Square area.

The Capitol Building, the Washington Monument, and the Smithsonian Museums are all covered.

The explosions spread out in one area.

Flames shot into the sky, and black smoke formed a mushroom cloud that rose and spread.

The third wave, thirty-six.

This time, not only Washington, D.C., but also surrounding cities such as Alexandria, Arlington, and Georgetown are all included in the scope of the crackdown.

Moreover, the launchers are a mixed bag.

Some were fired by federal troops on orders.

Some were local warlords who took advantage of the chaos to eliminate their political enemies.

Some are even private armed groups that use simple missiles produced in black boxes, which are inaccurate but numerous.

In an instant, the entire Washington, D.C. area was shrouded in endless smoke and fire.

The tremors were felt for tens of kilometers.

The ground seemed to be experiencing a continuous earthquake; buildings collapsed, roads cracked, and rivers spewed water.

But ultimately, this was not a war that had truly ended.

The missile barrage lasted for fifteen minutes.

Then it stopped.

It wasn't because the attack was over, it was because the person launching it stopped.

Even those who were just trying to take advantage of the situation quieted down after launching a dozen or so missiles, not because they didn't want to continue, but because of the cost.

Even with Noah AI's black-box production line, high-precision weapons like missiles still require special materials, precision electronic components, and advanced fuels.

And these things are becoming increasingly difficult to deal with.

So it stopped.

Washington is burning.

But the gunfire gradually subsided.

Because anyone who can fire a gun is either dead or hiding.

Or perhaps they're still crawling through the ruins.

The ruins of the memorial hall.

The redneck stood up from the pile of rubble.

His body was covered in a thick layer of dust and bloodstains, but it wasn't his blood.

He had sensed the barrage of missiles earlier.

The [Martyr's Body] ability is automatically activated, allowing the user to withstand impact damage but converting the pain into a temporary power boost.

He withstood a direct hit from a missile.

He is currently experiencing internal bleeding, has four broken ribs, a fractured left arm, and only 70% of his hearing remains.

But he was still standing.

Moreover, its power is even greater than before.

And it all healed itself very quickly.

He looked around.

Ruins, flames, corpses.

And in the distance, his soldiers were crawling out of their bunkers.

Few people.

There are probably only about three thousand people left.

The others either died on the bridge, in the square, or in a hail of bullets.

But those who are still alive have light in their eyes.