Domestic Zone: You already have a system, why join a chat group?

Chapter 194 My Lord God? No, Praise the Fool

After Zhang Xiaofan finished speaking, his father took the initiative to mention the battle between Russell and Lu Mingfei at the Tokyo Shrine the previous night.

As a battle that later cultivators used as a dividing line between the End of Dharma and the Age of Gods and Demons, this battle not only demonstrated the power of the gods to the world, but also had considerable significance for exploration: "Speaking of which, it seems that neither Odin nor that suddenly appearing Asura intended to kill Bogang at that time."

Zhang Xiaofan nodded slightly, his expression calm: "I already knew about this last night, but the battlefield is too far away, and there's really no need to rush there."

"Now that the balance of Yin and Yang in the world is disrupted, demonic energy has fully revived. But in this world, no matter how many demons have revived, only one person will ultimately receive the blessing of the origin of heaven and earth and gain power that surpasses all other paths. Therefore, demons will also fight each other to seize the ownership of demonic energy."

This layer of logic is not obscure; most of the monks present understood it instantly.

Master Huikong of Benshe Temple clasped his hands together, his brows furrowed, and asked in a deep voice, "According to what Daozi just said, demons are meant to kill each other. If that Asura truly possesses extraordinary abilities, why didn't he just kill Bo Gang on the spot? Instead, he went to the trouble of taking her away?"

"That's precisely the crux of the problem," Zhang Xiaofan explained calmly. "The Eight Great Demons are different from ordinary evil spirits; they were born from the fundamental laws of this world and coexist with heaven and earth."

"They cannot be truly destroyed, only sealed away."

"Even a being of divine status like Daozi couldn't do that?" Master Xuanzhen of Qingcheng Mountain was filled with shock.

The images of the Battle of Tokyo have already spread all over the world. The earth-shattering, mountain-moving, and sea-filling power is a realm that these mortal sorcerers dare not even imagine. Yet, such an existence could not even erase the demon.

"It's not that it's impossible, it's that it's not permissible." Zhang Xiaofan shook his head slightly and didn't explain further.

This isn't about whether to eliminate them or not. As I said before, the eight great demons were born from the very origin of the world. To eliminate them is to eliminate the world.

If they were to wipe them out, that would be the real end of the world.

"Therefore, the eight great demons are our most important focus at present."

The old man frowned: "If that's really the case, wouldn't the human world become a hunting ground for gods and demons?"

It is a fact that in last night's battle in Tokyo, Shura and Odin did not cause direct damage to the Tokyo city area outside the shrine.

However, the aftershocks of their battle shook the continental shelf of the Japanese archipelago.

Data from earthquake monitoring agencies has been released. Although the seismic waves were weak, they were synchronous resonances deep underground throughout Honshu Island. Some geological experts have privately stated that Japan is likely to experience a surge in both the intensity and frequency of earthquakes in the coming decades.

And this is only the effect of the initial battle. Even he could see that neither side had used their true strength. If what this Daoist said were true, and all the demons and gods rose up and fought one battle after another, wouldn't it cause chaos and devastation?

When gods and demons fight, mortals suffer. Throughout history and across the world, no one has ever been immune to this. Having discerned his father's meaning, Zhang Xiaofan lightly flicked the sword blade with his fingertip.

"Zheng"

A clear, resonant sword cry suddenly rose up, like a phoenix's cry echoing through the heavens, settling in everyone's hearts along with his voice, as steady as a bell: "The affairs of gods and demons are none of your concern; leave them to me. You only need to do two things: first, restrain your disciples so they do not go astray and lose their composure during this great upheaval; second, supervise your respective areas to prevent evil spirits and monsters from taking advantage of the chaos to harm the people."

As soon as he finished speaking, the cinnabar mark between his brows suddenly lit up, and the next moment, everyone present felt as if something had been added to their minds at the same time.

One after another, profound and ancient spell arrays appeared out of thin air in the sea of ​​consciousness. The patterns were clear and the structure was exquisite. They were all detection and strangulation arrays that had been lost since ancient times. They were specifically designed to target demonic energy and evil spirits. For the mages present, they were like rain after a long drought.

More than two hundred people stood up in unison and bowed to Zhang Xiaofan on the platform, saying, "We will obey the decree."

Zhang Xiaofan nodded slightly in acceptance of the greeting, then turned his gaze to the official representatives of China, the United States, Britain, France, Russia, and other countries, and said calmly, "In addition, there is another matter that requires the assistance of the officials of various countries."

The Chinese representative was an elderly man in a Zhongshan suit, with a calm demeanor. He immediately cupped his hands and said, "Please speak, Daozi. We will do whatever we can to help."

"I request that all countries use novels, comics, games, films and television dramas, etc., to spread the story of me, the Yan Emperor, the Heavenly Emperor, the Dragon Lord, and the Buddha to the people of the world. I will have Biyao compile the specific character settings, plot directions and dissemination requirements into text and distribute them to you later."

To put it bluntly, it's about guiding public opinion and paving the way for faith.

This step is essential if you want to control the power of all living beings and gather the fortune of the world.

Mortals may not be able to directly touch the laws, but their thoughts, emotions, and beliefs are the most indispensable lubricants in the operation of the laws.

When hundreds of millions of people genuinely believe that a name represents justice, that name itself becomes the authority of justice.

"clear!"

Spokespersons from various countries responded in unison, without hesitation.

This is certainly not a difficult task for a national-level force; mobilizing the entire cultural propaganda system and advancing it simultaneously across all fronts is a task they are already adept at.

This is especially easy for both China and the United States.

Hollywood's industrial production line can produce an outline in three days and a model in five days. Not to mention special effects, as long as the money and the guns are in place, they can produce two or three high-quality movies a month.

This is even more true in China, where online literature platforms and animation production systems can also deploy content matrices in the shortest possible time.

The two companies have been locked in a fierce and competitive battle of cultural output for years, and now they've simply shifted their focus from commercial box office to deity IP.

Zhang Xiaofan nodded slightly, then stood up, gripping the hilt of his sword. The moment he stood up, his five-colored robes moved without wind, unfurling like auspicious five-colored clouds. Under everyone's watchful eyes, he and Biyao drifted away through the side door.

Thus, the first meeting of the Global Union of Mage Masters came to a successful conclusion.

As soon as he left, the venue erupted in chaos. More than two hundred monks gathered in twos and threes to discuss how to deal with this change in the heavens and earth.

Over here, the old man walked through the crowd leaving the venue towards the exit, his mind still replaying what Zhang Xiaofan had just said. He planned to find Jackie Chan first to arrange things, and then return to San Francisco as soon as possible to reactivate the few magical artifacts that were kept at the bottom of the antique shop.

Just then, a familiar, hearty laugh erupted behind me.

"Hey Lao Haha, you're still the same as ever, you haven't aged a bit!"

An elderly man with white hair and beard, dressed in a platinum priest's robe, strode forward, familiarly put his arm around the old man's shoulder, and gently patted his arm.

The old man turned around, his cloudy eyes suddenly brightening, and his tense expression finally relaxed: "You bastard, you're still alive!"

Hal Morrison, the current Privy Councillor of the Vatican, is accustomed to being addressed as "Father Hal" when he goes out.

Hal was not offended at all. Instead, he put his hands together, closed his eyes, and made a pious expression. He replied in Chinese with extremely precise pronunciation but a slight translation accent: "My Lord blesses me above the Kingdom of God. I must follow in your footsteps."

The old man chuckled and shook his head, too lazy to argue with him. Hal's mouth had been like this forty years ago, showing no improvement whatsoever; he was already immune to it. He went straight to the point and asked, "What are you doing here? Could it be that after all these years, you've risen to the position of Pope?"

This statement was half-joking and half-serious. Back then, he traveled and cultivated with the Grand Master, visiting various forces in all directions. The Vatican was a place he frequented. At that time, Hal was just a holy son who was cherished by the entire Holy See, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a face full of childishness.

More than forty years have passed in the blink of an eye. The saint of yesteryear now has white hair and beard, but the mischievous glint in his eyes remains unchanged.

“No, not the Pope, but the Privy Councilor,” Father Hal said, lifting the sapphire cross necklace from his chest and shaking it in his hand. A very faint milky-white halo slowly rotated inside the gem. “Can’t you see something so obvious?”

The old man was taken aback, then a genuine sense of relief welled up in his eyes.

The Privy Councilor, also known as the first person after the Pope, or the permanent Vice-President, is in charge of all external affairs and secret forces of the Church. Throughout history, every Privy Councilor has been the true second most powerful figure in the Papacy.

Such is the nature of luck in this world; nothing brings more peace of mind than witnessing an old friend achieve their wish in one's old age.

"Alright, I'll take you to meet a friend." Without waiting for his father's consent, Hal put his arm around his father and turned around to walk towards the old man sitting quietly alone in the corner of the venue.

The corner seat was so quiet it seemed to be enveloped by an invisible soundproof barrier. Dumbledore sat there alone, his wand lightly touching a star map that appeared in the air in front of him. The star map slowly rotated, with silver dots flickering within it. Sensing someone approaching, he calmly put his wand back into his sleeve, the star map silently disappeared, and he stood up with a smile.

"Albus, come and meet my old friend." Hal raised his hand and gestured towards his father, his tone carrying a strange sense of pride: "His name is Father, and he is the most outstanding mage in the East."

"I've heard of him before." Dumbledore rose with a smile, extending his hand to gently shake his father's. His blue eyes were gentle and bright. "Long ago, I heard of a powerful wizard in the East who was proficient in spells and ancient witchcraft. Today, I am finally fortunate enough to meet him."

"Hello, hello————" The old man nodded awkwardly, but he was puzzled. He turned to look at Hal and gave him a questioning look. When did you become friends with this guy?

The Archmage's status in the East Asian magical world is self-evident, while Dumbledore's reputation in the Western magical world is equally significant. He is widely recognized as the greatest wizard of this century and is practically synonymous with contemporary European magic.

Khal was a priest in North America who had been presiding over St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York for decades, and his circle of activities consisted of either the holy city of Vatican City or various dioceses along the East Coast of North America.

Dumbledore was in the Scottish Highlands, and the two were separated by the entire Atlantic Ocean and half of the European continent. Their geographical locations were completely unrelated. How could they sit together so familiarly and call each other brothers?

Father Hal noticed the doubt in his father's eyes, laughed heartily, and said with an air of self-assurance, "Under the radiance of my Lord, making friends is a very simple thing, my old friend."

The old man asked curiously, "Dean Dumbledore also believes in God?"

As soon as he said it, he realized something was wrong. Based on his understanding of the Western magical world, wizards from Hogwarts had a worldview completely independent of the church. They studied magic, revered the laws of nature, and could dedicate their lives to the pursuit of truth. Even if they were not complete atheists, they would never go and believe in a personal god of a religion.

Magic and theology in Europe have always been two parallel rivers, flowing independently and without interfering with each other.

"What God?" Hal's eyes widened suddenly, as if he had heard something unbelievable, and he exclaimed dramatically, "My Lord, the Fool!"

The moment those two words entered the old man's ears, he was suddenly startled.

In an instant, his mind seemed to be plunged into a thick fog, and a scene inexplicably appeared before his eyes: the main hall of St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican, with frescoes hanging high on the dome, sunlight shining through the stained glass and spreading huge spots of light on the ground, and at the end of the hall, the statue of the main god that he had seen countless times suddenly became clear in his memory.

It was not a saint bowing his head on a cross, but a completely unfamiliar figure, sitting in the gray mist, wearing a top hat and a black classical robe, with a young and calm face, his left hand raised in a gesture, above which floated a talisman formed by countless overlapping phantoms of gears and clocks.

Mysterious, silent, and above all else.

This scene had never appeared in his memory before.

Yet, the moment it appeared, it became perfectly natural.

A second later, the old man raised his hand and pressed his temples, suppressing the sudden daze, and his expression returned to normal.

Could it be that I've been under too much stress these past few days and am hallucinating?

Where in this world is there a God? Hasn't the church always been worshipping fools?

Dumbledore stood to the side, never interrupting, a gentle and reserved smile on his lips. The monocle above his left eye reflected a small patch of grayish-silver white light in the afternoon sun.

He uttered four words softly, his tone flat, yet it was as if he were adding the final footnote to some unseen ritual: "Praise the Fool."

"How was it? I did a good job, didn't I?"

In the bamboo forest behind the mountain, Zhang Xiaofan seemed to have unloaded a heavy burden, lying back on Biyao's lap as a pillow.

Being able to handle stage fright is one thing, but expending energy is another.

"Of course, our Xiao Fan is the best."

Biyao smiled and was about to speak when her expression suddenly changed. In the shadows of the bamboo forest, where the sunlight did not reach, clusters of dark shadows began to wriggle and stand up one by one.