Chapter 169: DARE YOU BLOCK ME?

Seeing the battered body of the Feathered Serpent God, many were deeply moved, especially those who had once defended their homeland and endured the fires of war—tears nearly spilled from their eyes.

They could feel that pain, that ache.

Through countless battles of blood and fire, how much sweat and tears had been shed? So many moments had nearly broken them, yet they gritted their teeth and endured—what was it all for? Wasn't it for the homes and families behind them?

A little more perseverance up front meant a little more peace for those behind.

It was this belief—to protect family and homeland—that had carried them through.

But.

The Feathered Serpent God had suffered too much; it broke one's heart.

That belief in protecting his people had carried him through countless life-or-death battles; even as he bore indelible scars, he held on—yet when he finally looked back, the very source of his belief had been trampled, slaughtered to extinction.

That feeling—for those who had once defended their homeland and endured war—was truly nothing left at all.

Boom!

A bloody divine aura surged violently from the sky, gushing wildly from the Feathered Serpent God's body.

At this moment.

The power of a world-shaking divine spirit swept across heaven and earth!!

Endless forests trembled; trees ignited spontaneously; skyscrapers across America shuddered; concrete walls shattered.

Yet what frightened people most was not the scene before them in America.

The fury within the divine aura stirred the surrounding oceans—this very moment, the boundless Pacific Ocean surged without wind, raising tidal waves ten thousand zhang high.

The entire world was horrified!

Nations bordering the Pacific, especially those in Australia, trembled like sieves.

A scene unforgettable for a lifetime.

Coastal nations of the Pacific and Atlantic saw the sea recede, pulling back into the ocean depths.

The Earth seemed to tilt, to sink—Beimeizhou became the drainage outlet of this planetary water basin; waters from the Atlantic and Pacific surged toward Beimeizhou's America, preparing to unleash a world-ending tsunami, to replay the apocalypse upon this tectonic plate—yet this time, there was no Ark, no one would be saved.

Kamikawa Mitsu fell to the ground in terror, his body shaking uncontrollably, nearly curling into a ball.

His nostrils flared—he smelled a sour stench; clearly, someone beside him had panicked and lost control, drenching his pants. In this apocalyptic America, countless others wept and screamed, having long since abandoned all dignity and pride.

Cries for help became the dominant melody.

Before satellite TVs across nations, not a single person spoke; Director Takahashi and his team's teeth chattered incessantly.

Is this what a god is?

A single will stirs the world toward annihilation.

It fills one with despair, with insignificance—even with technology advanced enough to reach space, before such a being, one remains powerless.

At the same time, they all felt both realization and confusion.

Realization: the gods had returned, yet they were slow to appear in the world—why? Because they waited for others to step forward first, unwilling to be the first to act.

Confusion: why were the gods unwilling to be the first? Were they afraid? Of what? And what had the gods originally fought against on that first battlefield?

Director Takahashi and his team had time to realize and wonder—but the people of America now had no attention for the Feathered Serpent God's words.

"Oh God! Save us!"

Kamikawa Mitsu and the other high-ranking officials all had ashen faces; before death, no one wished to die heroically—they knelt on the ground, making the sign of the cross, praying endlessly.

Not just Kamikawa Mitsu—everyone else was much the same.

No matter their status—be it a worker enduring scolding or a CEO of a listed company—they were all the same now, indistinguishable.

"Someone, save us! I don't want to die!"

"Oh God, please save us!"

As the tidal wave from both oceans loomed ever closer, perhaps the god felt pity—or perhaps their prayers had truly been heard.

Suddenly, an eternal holy light descended, striking the tidal wave—like an ice age had arrived, like time itself had frozen—the world-ending tsunami halted instantly, then churned violently, as if dissolving, as if reversing back into the two oceans, returning to calm.

This scene stunned the entire world.

This was the world-ending tsunami triggered by the Feathered Serpent God's will—yet it had been interfered with, its force twisted, weakened, then receded.

"That's… the Gate of Heaven?!!"

Gazing in awe, countless people saw the holy light emanating from a gate.

The golden gate was small, yet supremely sacred, radiating pure golden radiance, untainted by a single speck of filth—as if the purest place in all existence lay within it, surrounded by snow-white clouds drifting gently.

White clouds. Golden gate.

Wasn't this the legendary Gate of Heaven, where God dwelled?

Boom!

A thunderous crash—the holy light vanished, and with it, the world-ending tsunami.

Then, before the eyes of hundreds of millions across the world, the golden gate—whose light had faded—slowly opened a crack.

Though the golden gate was small, its opening sound echoed like the turning of cosmic gears, resonating with weight and sanctity—as if not a door but the world itself, as if divinity and hope itself, were being opened, its meaning heavier than ancient mountains.

The gate swung wide—holy light erupted!

Seven humanoid beings stepped forth, their bodies glowing with holy radiance; even each strand of hair shimmered with brilliant sacred light. The silver swords in their hands, sharp and pure, also radiated divinity, dazzlingly bright—and behind them were six wings, not ornaments, but wings grown from their spinal columns, covered in snow-white feathers.

Each feather glowed with pure radiance, white as clouds.

"Angels!!" Director Takahashi and the others stared in astonishment at these beings—men handsome, women beautiful, bearing six wings.

And they were six-winged angels.

Kamikawa Mitsu and the others were stirred—ashen despair on their faces now reignited with hope.

"God has come to save us! Hahaha!"

"God bless us, Amen!" Countless Americans made the sign of the cross toward the emerging angels; some knelt outright in gratitude.

At this moment, Kamikawa Mitsu was overwhelmed with emotion—believing in Christianity had not been wrong; God had truly protected them.

The one sent out was still a six-winged angel.

The Bible did record that angels were divided into ranks, and the highest rank was the six-winged ones, whose numbers were extremely scarce. Added to that, seven of them had stepped out, so their identities could almost certainly be guessed.

"The Seven Archangels of God." All around the world, priests were stirred, passionately and reverently introducing to those around them the identities of the angels who had stepped out.

These were the Seven Archangels recorded in the Book of Revelation, representing Monday through Sunday respectively. And as recorded in the Book of Genesis, the reason the Seven Archangels represented Monday through Sunday was that they had completed the creation of heaven and earth in seven days.

The Seven Archangels were the so-called Seven Creation Angels.

They were: Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael, Raguel, Sariel, and Remiel.

"You dare block me?"

A single sound, imbued with destruction like the tolling of an apocalyptic bell and cauldron, shook heaven and earth into trembling chaos, the ocean surging and plunging, as if the world would perish in an instant.

Quetzalcoatl looked down from above, gazing at the seven angels, his lake-like massive serpent pupils holding not a trace of warmth.

……