The Envoy of Abundance from Onphalus

　He moved his feet without looking back, and ran to the other side of the mountain, just as his sister had said.

　……

　Chapter Sixty-Six: The Nightmare of the Katika.

　The feast of slaughter is in full swing.

　The raucous laughter of the Katikas, the dying screams of the Evikins, the sizzling sound of energy weapons burning flesh, the dull thud of chainsaw axes splitting bones... all intertwined to create a symphony of hell.

　Evgeny was betrayed by the company.

　Barek stood atop an armored vehicle painted with the Pioneer Department's insignia, admiring his masterpiece with smug satisfaction. The sand was stained a sticky, dark red, and mutilated corpses were scattered everywhere.

　Several Katikati warriors were using spears to lift severed heads and plant them in the sand dunes, letting out beast-like howls.

　"Hurry up! The higher-ups said to get rid of them all quickly, leave no one alive."

　Barek roared into the communicator, spitting as he spoke. He reveled in this power of life and death; the bright future promised by the company seemed within his grasp.

　Just as his gaze swept across the edge of the camp, he noticed a blonde woman whose clothes were torn and who was being dragged with sneers by several Tikati warriors toward the shadows of an armored vehicle.

　The woman struggled desperately, her golden eyes burning with an indomitable flame. This woman seemed to be called Taraka.

　Barek grinned, about to order that this "good stuff" not to be damaged, when an indescribable chill suddenly gripped his heart!

　It wasn't a change in temperature, but rather some kind of... absolute dominance in terms of status! It was as if the entire space had been instantly plunged into the depths of a cold starry sea.

　A figure suddenly appeared in the center of the battlefield. There was no warning whatsoever, as if he had always been standing there.

　The dark blue cloak remained motionless in the blood-stained sandstorm. The newcomer carried an ancient-looking spear, its entire body entwined with emerald green vegetation, the tip of which shimmered with an amber light, like solidified divine blood.

　His arrival caused not a speck of dust. His jade-green eyes radiated compassion. He simply watched as these butchers created their masterpiece.

　The noisy battlefield fell eerily silent for a moment. The Katika warriors were stunned by this appearance that defied the laws of physics and instinctively stopped their rampage.

　Barek's heart pounded. Forcing himself to remain calm, he leaned out from the roof of the car and shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to mask his inner turmoil: "Hey! You! Dressed so strangely! Are you an inspector sent from company headquarters? Everything's going smoothly here! We're clearing out the mob as planned!"

　He tried to use the company's name to intimidate people.

　The newcomer slowly raised his head, his jade-green eyes piercing through the rain and dust, precisely locking onto Barek.

　That gaze was calm and serene, yet it made Barek feel as if he had fallen into an ice cave, as if he were being stared at by the most ancient and profound being in the universe.

　"No."

　His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached every corner of the battlefield, carrying a strange resonance that drowned out the sound of the rain.

　Barek's throat went dry: "Then...then which faction are you from? Judging from your clothes...you don't seem to be from this backwater!"

　He tried hard to find a familiar mark on the other person, but he couldn't find one in the end.

　The newcomer—Russell—scanned the heads standing on the dunes, the mutilated corpses of children on the ground, the Tikati warriors about to commit violence, and the blonde woman struggling in their hands.

　The calm in his eyes was finally shattered, and a chilling anger, enough to freeze the stars, slowly rose.

　"I travel through all realms, receiving the blessings of the Medicine Buddha to spread abundance and alleviate the suffering of all living beings."

　Russell's voice remained steady, but every word struck the hearts of the Katika people like a heavy hammer: "Today I have come to Tsigonia, only to see your 'feats' written with tyranny and greed... This makes me... deeply angry."

　He paused slightly, and the long spear in his hand shone brightly with emerald light, its tip pointing at Balek, and also at all the blood-stained Katika people:

　"So, use your flesh and blood and souls to atone for the compassionate Medicine King and for this planet that you have trampled and scarred."

　The moment the last syllable fell, Russell moved.

　There was no thunderous roar, only a streak of emerald light so fast it exceeded the limits of visual perception.

　One second he was standing in the center of the camp; the next second, a Katika warrior who was grinning and lunging at Taraka suddenly froze.

　He looked down in disbelief, staring at the emerald green spear that had somehow pierced his chest.

　There was no pain. Only an overwhelming, irresistible torrent of life instantly swept over his limbs and bones.

　He opened his mouth, trying to scream, but only tender green branches and emerald leaves came out of his throat. His skin quickly turned to wood, his muscle fibers stretched into tough vines, and his bones crackled softly as they extended to form a supporting tree trunk.

　In the blink of an eye, a living thug was transformed into a lush, verdant tree with branches and leaves, exuding a tranquil life force, its roots deeply embedded in the blood-stained sand.

　"Fire! Kill this monster!"

　Barek's scream finally ripped through the deathly silence. Fear completely overwhelmed his reason, and he gave hysterical commands.

　The Tikati warriors, realizing what was happening, frantically raised their weapons—second-hand pulse rifles and old-fashioned laser pistols discarded by the company—and unleashed a barrage of fire on Russell!

　Dense beams of energy wove a web of death, instantly engulfing the spot where he stood.

　However, the expected carnage did not occur.

　The energy beam struck Russell three feet in front of him, as if it had hit an invisible, indestructible amber-gold wall!

　A blinding golden light erupted at the point of impact, producing a dull, bell-like roar! The protective power flowed around him, forming an absolute defense.

　The energy beams, powerful enough to tear apart ordinary warriors, only stirred up golden ripples in the air, failing to even lift a corner of his cloak.

　Occasionally, one or two beams of light with slightly stronger penetrating power would manage to break through the outer layer of golden light and land on his skin covered with emerald gold patterns, leaving only insignificant burn marks that were instantly smoothed out by the power of abundance.

　Russell didn't even glance at the futile shots. His figure moved like a ghost through the hail of bullets, each flash a sharp, emerald-green spear delivered with deadly precision.

　*Thud!* A Katika warrior was pierced through the skull by a spear, instantly turning into a grotesque tree sculpture, frozen in the pose of firing his spear.

　*Swoosh!* Another warrior was slashed across the waist by the spear blade. No blood gushed from the cut, only wildly growing vines connected and entangled his upper and lower body, eventually turning him into a twisted and enormous shrub.

　Snap! The third warrior tried to block with his chainsaw axe, but the axe blade shattered the moment it touched the emerald green spear light. The spear, still powerful, pierced his chest, pinning him firmly to the sand. Roots spread rapidly, merging him with the land he had ravaged.

　This was a purification process so efficient it was almost despairing. Russell's movements were concise, efficient, and carried a cold, judgmental rhythm.

　There were no angry roars, no superfluous expressions, only the lives taken away with each swing of the spear, and the trees that rose from the ground, exuding a tranquil vitality.

　He could have easily unleashed his abundant power, transforming the thugs of this region into a harmless forest. But now, he only wanted to use the spear that had accompanied him in judging countless evils to personally end these scum.

　Their atrocities deserve the most direct punishment.

　Fear erupted like a plague among the remaining Katika. Watching their comrades turn into silent trees in the emerald light, watching that demonic figure stroll leisurely through the hail of bullets, their courage completely crumbled.

　"Devil! He is the devil!"

　"Run! Run away!"

　"Mother Goddess above! Spare me!"

　Screams, cries, and the clanging of weapons being thrown to the ground filled the air. The butchers, who had been so arrogant just moments before, now wished they had two more legs. They abandoned their armor and fled in all directions like headless flies.

　Unfortunately, their escape route had been blocked by the vines planted by Russell. Not a single butcher could escape from the eyes of [The Decaying One].

　Barek watched helplessly as his elite warriors fell like wheat, transforming into a rapidly expanding, eerie forest. Overwhelmed by fear, his legs trembled violently.

　When Russell's azure gaze, devoid of any human emotion, fell upon him again, Barek's psychological defenses completely crumbled.

　He tumbled off the roof of the car with a thud, landing heavily on the sandy ground mixed with blood and mud. He scrambled towards Russell on all fours, tears streaming down his face, crying, "Spare me! Great Divine Messenger! Spare my worthless life! I was wrong!"

　"We were all wrong! It was the company! It was the Interstellar Peace Corporation's marketing department that forced us to do it! They gave us the weapons! They ordered us to wipe out the Evgenies!"

　“I…I can believe in abundance! I can believe in the Medicine Master! I will immediately abandon the Mother Goddess. From now on, I will be your most devout believer! I will help you deal with the company!”

　"I know many of their secrets! I beg you! Merciful Medicine King above, spare my life!"

　He cried incoherently, trying to shift the blame by invoking the company's name. He had overheard company employees chatting about how the Abundance believers, especially the recently emerging Compassionate Physicians group, were mostly known for their kindness and forgiveness.

　Perhaps... perhaps there is still a glimmer of hope?

　He lay prostrate, his forehead pressed against the cold, bloody sand, unable to look into those judging eyes.

　Russell stopped and stood before Barek. The rain washed away the last trace of life belonging to the Katika people from the tip of his gun.

　He looked down at the warlord trembling at his feet, his eyes filled with no pity, only a deep, cold disgust.

　"Compassionate heart?"

　Russell's voice was soft, yet it pierced Barek's very marrow like an ice pick: "The pharmacist's compassion is the sweet rain bestowed upon those who struggle to survive, the balm that heals a wounded world..."

　He slowly raised the long spear made of grass and wood in his hand. The emerald light gathered in the rain, and the tip of the spear locked onto Barek's heart, which was twisted with fear.

　"...It's not a get-out-of-jail-free card given to jackals."

　Before the words were even finished, the spear transformed into a streak of emerald lightning that tore through the rain curtain!

　"Do not--!"

　Barek only had time to let out a short, desperate wail.

　puff!

　The spear pierced Barek's heart with pinpoint accuracy, pinning him like an ugly insect to the sand soaked in the blood of the Evikinians! A surge of violent, abundant power rushed in, not to bring healing, but to deliver the most complete annihilation and purification.

　Barek's body convulsed violently, his eyes bulged in disbelief, and his skin quickly lost its color, turning ashen and dry, like rotten wood that had been instantly drained of all life.

　His flesh and blood decomposed and dissipated in the emerald light, merging with the sand beneath him, leaving only a charred human silhouette and a long, emerald-green spear that hummed on its own, dripping with foul blood.

　The butcher's wails vanished completely. Only the sound of rain washing away bloodstains remained on the battlefield, along with the rustling of newly grown trees in the wind, like a sigh.

　Russell's gaze passed over the ironic forest of life, nourished by the blood and flesh of thugs, and landed on the blonde woman huddled beside the armored vehicle, her clothes torn and her eyes vacant.

　It was the Taraka he had seen earlier. She seemed completely stunned by the divine punishment before her, forgetting her fear and her tears, simply staring blankly at him and at the trees standing silently in the rain.

　Russell drew his spear, its tip spotless. He strode across the pool of blood diluted by the rain, toward Taraka. His footsteps echoed sharply in the deathly silence of the battlefield.

　He stopped in front of Talaka, his tall figure shielding her from the cold rain.

　He leaned down slightly, his voice no longer the cold judgment he used when facing thugs, but with a touch of genuine, heavy gentleness: "I'm sorry I'm late."

　His gaze swept over the bodies of the Evikinians in the camp, who would never stand again. His voice was low and somber. “The suffering was not quelled in time, a regret of the Path of Compassion. The dead are gone, but the perpetrators… have paid the price for their sins.”

　"And another group of manipulators behind the scenes will also pay the price, don't worry."

　Taraka's empty eyes finally regained some focus, and she slowly raised them, gazing up at the being before her who radiated divine light, as if she had stepped out of a legend of the Mother Goddess.

　Rainwater slid down his sharply defined jawline, and his jade-colored eyes were deep and serene, containing a compassion and power beyond her comprehension, a power that transcended the mundane.

　"Who...who are you?"

　Her voice was dry and hoarse, like sandpaper being rubbed.

　Russell straightened up, a golden light swirling around him, the dangling branch mark on his shoulder faintly visible. His voice, calm yet possessing a power that seemed to pierce the universe, echoed clearly over this scarred land:

　"My name is Huaixiu. I travel through all realms, spreading abundance and alleviating suffering. I came here by the grace of the Medicine Master."

　……

　Chapter Sixty-Seven: One Hundred Taambas

　The market development headquarters of the Interstellar Peace Corporation has now become a desolate execution ground. Twisted giant trees rise from the ground, their gnarled roots digging deep into the scorched earth, painting the barren Tsigania with a glaring green.

　This is Russell's choice of atonement for the butchers: to nourish the land they once trampled with their own flesh and blood.

　Several small starships, their engines whirring as Russell arrived, had attempted to break free.

　They had just taken off when a piercing shriek tore through the air! Several emerald-gold branches of the Jianmu tree, condensed from pure and abundant power, lashed out like living whips from the depths of space, with terrifying precision that surpassed the speed of light.

　The branches instantly coiled around the ship's hull, ignoring the fragile energy shield, tightening like a giant python constricting its prey. The metal armor groaned under the strain, deeply gashes etched into it.

　The next second, these struggling metal beetles were slammed to the ground, landing squarely on the gaping maw of the abyss below—a deterrent that belonged to the Abundant Divine Ship and had been deliberately preserved by Russell.

　"Crack! Snap—!"

　A sickeningly loud metallic tearing and the muffled thud of the energy core exploding came from inside the Shenzhou, accompanied by a clear, crunching sound, like chewing on a hard-shelled nut.

　A wave of satisfaction from the ship's spirit rippled through Russell's mind: "Crispy, delicious. It'll burst with flavor."

　This divine vessel, transformed from the beast-like ship, still possesses an efficient core instinct for devouring and transforming, making it more than capable of dealing with these companies' crispy chocolate-filled balls.

　Russell hovered in mid-air, his emerald-gold cloak motionless in the sandstorm, his jade-colored eyes indifferently sweeping over the outlines of the newly added giant trees below.

　In an avalanche, no snowflake is innocent. If you truly feel this place is sinful, why didn't you apply for a transfer sooner?

　The fragments of memory extracted by A-Chui clearly show that these people on the unsupervised, desolate planet had long been indulging in the game of playing the butcher, and enjoying it immensely.

　Feigning innocence only when the executioner's blade is hanging over one's neck? There's no such thing as a free lunch.

　As for how Oswald Schneider, the head of the company's marketing department, would react, Russell didn't care. If that unknown guest dared to personally seek revenge, Russell wouldn't mind letting him understand that there are differences even among envoys.

　Russell considered himself quite knowledgeable in the field of alienation and pollution. If Oswald truly had the guts, Russell dared to transform the headquarters of the Interstellar Peace Corporation—the prosperous planet Pierpont—into a nightmare land overrun by living, breathing monsters.

　The benevolent do not crave blood, but that does not mean they are without a sword. The price of angering a benevolent person is often far more severe than that of provoking a butcher.

　Bertrand Russell was a healer who sowed abundance, and also an executioner who judged evil. Who he was depended on the good and evil of those he faced.

　Do not wait until the knife falls on your own body to realize the enormity of your sins and repent.

　……