Chapter 926: The Real Shock

Dorothy's frenzied thoughts did not last long; she was interrupted by a sobbing sound.

When she looked up toward the source of that stifled crying, the House Witch fell silent again.

Hmm, this time it was Elena crying.

Oh my god, a Sage is crying—this sight is truly rare.

Clearly, this was the effect of her ancestor's second "Whip of Purification," the kind where you get it or get it again.

Just moments ago, this nun-Sage had looked defiant to the death, yet now she wept like a child of ten thousand years, her beautiful azure eyes brimming with regret and sorrow for her past actions.

Whoa, sis, that tail-whip of yours is seriously creepy.

Even though Dorothy now fully understood the technique's mechanism, witnessing such a radical transformation in a single moment still sent chills down her spine.

Hmm, this eerie sense of déjà vu always reminded her of a character from a novel she'd read in her past life—a guy who loved wearing a monocle.

Then she connected it to the popular rebirth novels.

If rebirth novels are about your future self possessing your present self, then isn't Ye Meng Jia's method essentially letting your past self possess your present self?

The House Witch carefully studied the tearful nun-Sage before her—and truly, she saw a youthful glow in the suddenly clear, watery blue eyes.

Geez, sis, how many years back did you rewind Elena's age?

Dorothy couldn't help mentally grumbling.

But that's normal.

The younger one is, the more malleable, adaptable, and open to new ideas they become—this is evident from how Sophieilia's Dawn Crusade consists mostly of young angelic witches.

Conversely, the older one gets, the more conservative their thinking becomes; without the drive and passion of youth, human nature grows lazy, unwilling to endure further turmoil, content to stay in their comfort zone—this is clear from how the hardliners of the God-King Cult are all ancient, elderly witches.

Isn't that why people always say the world belongs to the young, the future belongs to the young?

Ten-thousand-year-old Elena had been mentally hardened by fanatical faith, unable to accept any new phase of God-King worship, branding it heresy.

But since Elena became a Sage, she couldn't possibly be a true fool—no one that stupid could ever reach the Sage realm.

In her youth, she must have been a brilliant, ambitious witch, but eventually, under the erosion of excessive fanaticism, she simply couldn't withstand the wear.

Now, Master Ye's miraculous touch has restored the long-lost genius angelic witch, Elena.

Dorothy couldn't help but marvel again at her ancestor's skill.

Elena's current consciousness and thoughts have returned to her Shaonv era—that's change. Yet her power and memories remain intact—that's constancy.

Preserving constancy within change, achieving change upon a foundation of constancy—that's the art of seeking harmony amid differences.

Brilliant. Truly brilliant.

Thus, the reborn nun-Sage didn't need to go through the usual process of reabsorbing and digesting memories like a reincarnator; she felt more like awakening from a long dream, finally realizing, "I am myself."

Flowers bloom again; people become young once more.

The Shaonv -era Elena was clearly far less worn down than her ten-thousand-year-old self, so without fanatical faith suppressing and sealing her wisdom, it naturally reclaimed its dominance.

She merely recalled and reflected for a moment—and instantly knew the answer to the question: which of the two—Old God-King Church or New God-King Puritanism—could truly save the declining angelic witch clan?

Hmm, as the Holy Son had just said, the new era has no vessel left to carry the relics of the Old World like the God-King Church.

Time constantly moves forward; it must not remain static. The God-King Church once played a pivotal role in witch history—this cannot be denied—but that chapter has ended. Now, we ancient ones have become obstacles to the progress of the young.

The once dragon-slaying hero has become the new dragon, snarling and threatening the next hero.

To Elena, now "awakened," this scene was deeply tragic.

Just moments ago, she had been one of the sharpest fangs in that monstrous dragon's jaws—but now, with her past hero's memories revived, she only wished to let this out-of-control dragon depart with dignity.

Let me, this dragon's fang, become the blade that pierces the dragon's heart. No matter what, the hero must not meet his end facing the dragon's grotesque form.

That was Elena's thought.

So she acted on it.

"Great Ye Meng Jia, thank you for jolting me awake. Holy Son, please allow me to offer my most sincere apologies—I was blinded by faith and arrogance."

The nun-Sage stopped crying, wiped her tears, first thanked the tiny dragon-snake coiled around Dorothy's neck, then turned to Sophieilia and bowed deeply in apology.

At this point, Dorothy's earlier demand had essentially been fulfilled—all angelic witches had sincerely apologized.

Yet, it seemed the matter wasn't over.

"Holy Son, I know you may still not fully trust me, but I must warn you: please be cautious, pay close attention. I've received word that the Cross Crusade will awaken from the God-King's divine realm, and the Apostles will return once more."

Elena spoke with grave seriousness.

This was, in fact, the true source of the courage she and her descendants had shown against Ye Meng Jia—the day when the angelic witches would rise again was near.

When the Cross Crusade reappeared and the Apostles returned, the angelic witch clan would surely reclaim its throne as the First Witch Royal Family.

This was the unshakable belief of every remnant of the God-King Church.

After all, the Cross Crusade was the number-one witch crusade in history. Though it contained more than just angelic witches, eleven of the twelve Apostles from the angelic witches' peak era were all within it.

Eleven Sages returning at once—who else could match that?

Even Elena, herself a Sage, couldn't help feeling her heart race with excitement at the thought.

But that was before. Now, she felt only dread.

After all, those eleven Apostles were even more fanatical than she had been—they would never tolerate any questioning of the God-King's supremacy. The fate of the fallen Saint, the original Holy Son Messia, proved that.

Elena was born in the late God-King era; as a child, she had once glimpsed the original Holy Son's form from afar. Though only a fleeting glance, that near-perfect figure left an indelible impression on her heart.

But Messia died—killed in a trial conducted jointly by the eleven Apostles. Her death marked the beginning of the angelic witches' decline.

After that came the Dragon King's era: the angelic witches' arrogance provoked the Dragon King's suppression, leading to the Cross Crusade's recall to the divine realm, the premature retirement of many angelic witches, and so on.

Now, the Dragon King's era has passed, and with news of the Cross Crusade and Apostles' imminent return, many previously retired angelic witches have reemerged.

Elena herself belonged to this group.

But speaking of Messia…

The nun suddenly froze.

Due to her mental wear, her memory of the original Holy Son had faded, though not erased—but now, thanks to her rejuvenation, the distant memory revived and perfectly overlapped with the face of this new Holy Son.

So similar. So uncannily similar—even the philosophy "I am the God-King, all beings are equal" was identical.

Could this be coincidence?

A normal witch might believe it, but Elena was a Sage. Sages never believe in coincidence—they knew every coincidence was destiny's prearranged design.

In short, they must not repeat the same mistake.

The old Elena would have blindly sided with the eleven Apostles, her faith clouding her mind. But now, the new Elena had regained independent thought.

She was a Sage too—not inferior in status to the Apostles, merely their junior. But mere seniority was not enough to demand blind obedience.

In her view, the Apostles, like her former self, had been worn down by fanatical faith. She couldn't let them crush this new hope of the angelic witch clan again.

Fortunately, the former Messia had stood alone, while Sophieilia now had powerful backing.

Thinking of this, the nun-Sage's gaze shifted again to Dorothy beside her.

This time, her gaze no longer held indifference—after all, she was a Shaonv again.

Elena reevaluated this famed young lady through the eyes of a witch girl—and couldn't help marveling at how terrifying her achievements were, evoking the same aura as the Dragon King's meteoric rise, even surpassing it.

She truly had the makings of a monarch.

The angelic witches' golden age had fallen to the Dragon King. Now, even if the Apostles returned with their armies, they might well fall again—this time to this young lady.

Wait, am I seeing things?

The nun-Sage had been praising the young lady's greatness when the tiny dragon-snake coiled around Dorothy's neck shifted slightly, revealing a narrow gap—and in that sliver, Elena's eyes nearly popped out.

She saw a series of marks on the young lady's body—each one terrifying, pressing upon her as a Sage with overwhelming weight.

The Arrogance Demon Lord Lucifer, the Greed Demon Lord Mammon, the Radiant Lord Gabriel.

Why would these alien monarchs leave their marks on a young witch? How many great figures has this young lady encountered?

If these were the only marks, Elena might even suspect the young lady was a spy sent by the alien races.

But even these royal marks were merely peripheral.

The true center belonged to three others.

One was the Eye of Stars—a void of chaos, from which an indescribable, terrifying presence flickered faintly.

One was the Horned Demon—a boundless desire, yet deep within that desire, something secret seemed hidden.

These two, like satellites, flanked the final mark on either side.

It was a lip print.

Yet, Elena's legs, which had only just regained strength after Ye Meng Jia's dragon aura lifted, buckled again—and she knelt in another full prostration.

"Elena, what are you doing? Don't! Absolutely not!"

Dorothy, though equally stunned by Elena's news about the Cross Crusade and the eleven Apostles' return, swiftly dodged the Sage's bow and asked in surprise.

But Elena was now completely numb.

Even Ye Meng Jia's dragon aura hadn't terrified her this much.

Oh my god, did the God-King truly manifest?

As a devout believer, the nun-Sage could never mistake the scent of her own deity—this lip print was unmistakably the God-King's essence.

But why a lip print?

Did the God-King kiss this young lady?

What nonsense! Impossible! The God-King would never kiss anyone!

But how could this lip print be fake?

Ugh, I compared the lip pattern with the God-King's ancient images using my Sage wisdom—it matches perfectly. This can't be faked. Damn it, why is my perception so sharp now?

So who is this young lady? Why did the God-King kiss her?

Could she be the true Holy Son?

Hmm, mothers do kiss their children, after all.

But Miss is a Dragon Demoness—wouldn't a Divine King's Holy Son surely be an Angelic Demoness?

Hmm, whose bloodline could possibly overwhelm the Divine King?

Gasp, Long Wang

No, stop it, my damned mind, I can't think anymore—these blasphemous sins, I deserve to die a thousand deaths.

In that instant, Elena's mind had gone berserk; she cursed the Sage's wisdom for turning so swiftly—why must wisdom strike so shockingly now?

The Nun-Sage was utterly bewildered.