Chapter 100: A Vague Human Figure

The capital of Britain has already become a living hell.

It is another gloomy and gray day, but no one dares to curse this damned weather anymore.

A drizzling rain passes through the projection of the Altar, carrying nuclear fallout dust, sprinkling onto the ruins of the city—a ruin that only hours ago was one of the most prosperous cities in the world.

Just now, nuclear bombs exploded, mushroom clouds rose, houses were flattened, trees withered instantly, and ash was everywhere. Those who remained on the surface were instantly "vaporized," and every living creature turned into dry bones in an instant.

The survivors hid in air-raid shelters, hearing a huge tremor from the ground; they all knew what it was, but could only shed silent tears. Emotions of confusion, despair, and madness permeated all the air-raid shelters.

However, the nuclear explosion was not the end. Even the most powerful weapon on Earth, the greatest crystallization of human technology, could not stop the Altar's projection from continuing to reap lives.

The translucent lines in the sky seemed to exist in another space; the nuclear explosion only affected this world, having no relation at all to the Altar in the other space.

At the same time as the nuclear explosion, the scattered specks from the Altar were unaffected, continuing to seep through the soil layers to the air-raid shelters, falling onto people.

At first, people fell into a trance-like state; then their expressions became filled with longing and joy, their mouths bearing serene smiles, their skin gradually drying out, turning a bluish-brown, and transforming into mummies.

Those who had not awakened could not see this faint light; those who had awakened avoided these lights, yet these scattered specks were everywhere—where could one hide?

The capital, being closest to the Altar, suffered misfortune first; other surrounding cities gradually fell as well.

Countless people knelt on the ground begging for God's mercy, and even more knelt begging the Evil God for forgiveness.

At this moment, many people in the world understood the power of the Evil God. Previously, they had regarded Vid's Divine Punishment Organization as a delusional cult, a group of ignorant, blind, brainwashed followers led by a madman.

Now people knew the Evil God truly existed and experienced a mere fraction of His immense power.

Humanity had never been so terrified; a Sword of Damocles hung over the necks of all mankind.

Hampton, a coastal city at the southernmost tip of Britain.

In an ordinary apartment, the Barton couple held their four-year-old daughter, Christine, silently watching the television screen turn black.

They had just seen the terrifying scene of the Altar reaping lives from the live broadcast, and also witnessed the scene of the nuclear explosion in the capital.

"Mom, Dad, has the movie finished? Why is the TV black?" Christine asked curiously.

Dad paused for a moment, then answered his daughter's question in a low, gentle voice: "Yes, the movie has finished."

Mom silently walked to the window, gazing at the sky and shedding silent tears.

Dad held their daughter and came to his wife's side, kissing his wife, then kissing his daughter's fluffy curly hair.

This family of three embraced by the window, waiting for Death to knock on the door.

Suddenly, the Altar in the sky flickered. The young couple embracing and weeping did not notice; instead, the innocent Christine pointed curiously at the sky and asked in a childish voice: "Mom, Dad, that thing in the sky seems to have moved!"

The Barton couple looked up in terror, thinking this horrific ritual had spread here.

They happened to see the projection in the sky flicker again, as if the TV signal was unstable, suddenly disconnecting, then suddenly reconnecting.

Almost all of Britain saw this scene: those waiting silently for death by the windows, those in underground air-raid shelters who had not yet fallen into hallucinations and were still watching the live broadcast, and people gathered around televisions across the globe.

At the instant the Altar flickered, in Westminster, Kensington, Lambeth... in over a dozen cities surrounding the capital, those who had fallen into beautiful illusions suddenly awoke, as if a sweet dream had been abruptly interrupted by sudden noise. They were dazed for a moment, then suddenly realized—they had almost died silently just now—and their faces inevitably turned pale.

After the fear subsided, a question arose in their hearts: What happened to the Altar? Could it be that the nuclear bombs worked?

The Altar flickered violently again. Amidst the distorted light and shadow, a vague shadow seemed to flash by, like an incongruous picture inserted into a film reel, flashing past in an instant, almost impossible for the naked eye to capture.

However, countless organizations and experts worldwide were analyzing the live broadcast—official, corporate, and private—and they captured this different image.

Ark Country, Washington City, the Pentagon.

Top experts from various worlds captured this suddenly flashing image. The results came out quickly; the experts looked at each other in silence, immediately printed them out, and sent the research and detection results to the President's office.

The President of Ark Country opened his old, cloudy eyes; the pictures and documents in his hand still carried the heat of the printer.

He looked up and said to the officials standing in the office: "It seems... we must activate that plan..."

Somewhere in the capital of Xia Country, a tightly secured underground military center.

In the vast conference hall, not a single seat was empty; everyone present wore military uniforms, their faces solemn, all being top-tier figures within the military system.

The large screen was divided into several smaller screens, each broadcasting live feeds from various parts of Britain; the largest screen showed the scene in the British capital after the nuclear explosion.

This unprecedented disaster weighed heavily on everyone's hearts; this time it was Britain, but what about next time? Could it be Xia Country? If Xia Country faced this disaster, could they survive? Did they have a way to solve it?

Suddenly, the live broadcast screen flickered. Everyone saw this scene. A few short minutes later, the analysis department placed the results on the head table—on the desk of a stern-faced General.

The Altar projection in the live broadcast still flickered uncertainly.

The General quickly finished reading the materials; his expression mixed surprise with worry. He waved his hand: "Project the results onto the large screen..."

Britain, underground of a certain city, a secret military base.

Chief of Defense Staff Tony Carter watched the large screen expressionlessly. A helicopter flew over the city of Britain; in the live camera feed, the former Britain was now a wasteland, devastated and scarred.

The plane even flew directly through the Altar projection. The damned Altar remained immovable, as if nothing happening on Earth could shake its figure.

This proved that his act of launching nuclear bombs was completely futile, merely killing nearly nine million innocent people in the British capital in vain.

If Britain perished due to the Altar, that would be one thing, but if they somehow survived this time, Chief of Defense Staff Tony Carter would be an eternal villain in history.

Suddenly, the Altar flickered. Tony Carter's hand trembled violently; for the first time, he lost his composure and shouted loudly: "Quick! Quick! Conduct an analysis! Did the nuclear bombs work? Is the Altar about to collapse!"

He could not even wait in his seat; he rushed straight to the battle analysis department, staring at the computer screens of the analysts.

Tony Carter's graying hair was somewhat disheveled, his breathing rapid. Daniel Quint, the analyst sitting beside the computer, clearly heard his heart beating violently.

The analysis results finally appeared on the screen. It was a vague, distorted shadow, impossible to distinguish or capture with the naked eye. After analysis and restoration by scientific instruments, they finally saw clearly what it was.

The upper part of the image was a boundless desert; the sky contained unknown stars. If an astronomer analyzed it, they would know this place was definitely not Earth.

The right part of the image was a patch of bluish-black stone, carved with patterns and shimmering with a blood-red luster—anyone familiar with the Altar could see this was a physical Altar.

From the Altar's perspective, a vague human figure stood not far away.

Enlarging this vague human figure and further clarifying it through various high-tech means, a familiar figure emerged.

It was a figure almost everyone in the world recognized.

That person was suspended in mid-air, their slender figure teetering on the verge of collapse.

Her face was deathly pale, blood on her forehead matted with her hair, still speckled with sand and dust.

With all her strength, she thrust both hands forward as if wielding an invisible giant blade, cleaving toward a green-black altar.

That was Yang Yi.