Chapter 173: The Holy Light Stained with Blood, Heaven Burns

Then the seven archangels unleashed their ultimate divine arts—not toward the walking dead, but toward the Feathered Serpent God.

People suddenly understood: the light they had used against the walking dead was merely residual radiance from the divine art.

Too powerful.

Whether the divine art or the seven archangels.

At this moment.

Countless eyes converged upon the seven figures, whose stature seemed to stretch and magnify, towering above this world as if no being could match them.

They stood there, their bodies no taller than humans, yet in the eyes of onlookers they loomed vast and divine, like seven invincible monarchs, gazing down upon all under heaven with unmatched might.

But the Feathered Serpent God seemed even stronger.

"Get out!!"

A roar shattered the four corners of the heavens; the holy light turned crimson.

Over Beimeizhou, thousands upon thousands of black lightning bolts filled the heavens, unyielding—not black lightning, but tears in the void, jagged and spreading across the sky.

The heavens had been ripped apart by the roar!!

No longer an omen, no longer the initial battlefield's spectacle—this time, they truly witnessed the Feathered Serpent God's horror, understood why it had survived the initial battlefield's carnage… because it was strong!!

On its scarred body, lustrous feathered serpent scales flowed, each scale a divine path, each a glory.

More black lightning-like fissures opened across the heavens, riddled with countless holes.

But this time the heavens shattered more completely—not from the Feathered Serpent God's divine voice, but from the swing of its tail.

The colossal Feathered Serpent God, coiled across all of Beimeizhou, swung its tail—longer and thicker than mountain ranges—and merely the aura of its tail's motion shattered the heavens; let alone the hundreds of divine arts surging from its scales.

One scale, one divine art; hundreds of divine arts erupted, like ten thousand armies, soldiers as gods, generals as divine kings, divine steeds galloping, golden halberds swinging to cleave gods.

Solemnity. Silence.

Countless people thought they saw illusions, but upon closer look, every one shivered with dread—they saw countless terrifying spectral remnants of gods and demons wailing and cursing behind the swinging tail.

The spectral remnants' hatred was overwhelming, their numbers terrifyingly vast.

Only one place could have killed so many godlike spectral remnants: the initial battlefield.

These were the great enemies slain beneath the Feathered Serpent God's tail—so many slain, creating this scene: a glory, and a bloodshed.

The Feathered Serpent God and the seven archangels' divine arts collided, exploding in dazzlingly brilliant radiance.

Akawa and others were terrified.

The pure, immaculate divine art, forged from the seven archangels' power, was no longer pure—it was stained crimson.

The holy light was no longer holy—was this still the heaven's divine art?

No.

Holy light stained with blood foretold the seven archangels' defeat.

Boom!!

Carrying the glory forged through countless life-and-death trials on the initial battlefield, the tail shattered the seven archangels' divine art; the bloodstained holy light exploded into a sky of crimson starlight, drenching the heavens of Beimeizhou in deep, bloody red.

Bloodied holy light rained down, blinding the eyes—flickering visions of heaven stained crimson, countless angelic wings broken or dyed scarlet.

Once, heaven had been peaceful and serene, filled with beauty, free of strife, deceit, echoing with laughter—the most wondrous place in this world.

Now, that beautiful heaven burned; blood stained everywhere, angel corpses littered the ground, pure holy waters turned crimson, sacred altars overturned, holy temples engulfed in Xiong Xiong flames, all in ruin.

The destruction of the divine art created a terrifying spectacle, horrifying the entire world.

In Jerusalem, the Vatican, and other centers of Christianity, priests, Yidazhu, and the Pope turned ashen-faced, lips trembling, frantically making the sign of the cross; their lifelong faith nearly shattered.

This was blasphemy—a blasphemy against God. As believers, to witness heaven's destruction with their own eyes—how could this be?

It was also a spiritual shock: as believers, they held heaven in supreme reverence, yet never imagined it could be stained with blood—they thought this scene could not possibly be real.

Once such thoughts arose, their faith began to waver.

Many believers felt the Feathered Serpent God would slaughter heaven, devour God—the thought clung like gum to shoe soles, impossible to scrape off.

Instantly, priests, Yidazhu, and the Pope redoubled their frantic cross-making.

No, such thoughts must not exist!

Forget them! Quickly forget them!

Oh God! Forgive us our… sins, damn it!!

Priests went mad, Yidazhu trembled in terror, the Pope's eyes bulged.

At this moment.

With the inescapable thought still lodged in their minds, priests, Yidazhu, and the Pope saw—the golden, radiant gate of heaven over Beimeizhou… stained with blood…

The divine art shattered, the seven archangels standing atop the gate of heaven staggered backward, each step shaking the heavens with thunderous booms, as if the sky might shatter at any moment; they spat blood, divine essence coughed from their mouths, staining their bodies, dripping onto their silver, pure holy swords, staining the gate of heaven.

My God!!

The vision… became real?!

Many believers—even Yidazhu—cracked mentally: "Fuck my God! These are the seven archangels!! The seven strongest beings under heaven's God, and they've been beaten to spitting blood!"

To be honest, they weren't fools; the entire world knew the seven archangels were immensely powerful, their divine art capable of slaying gods, killing Buddhas, their combat might earth-shattering, unquestionably among the greatest of deities.

This was evident from the strength they displayed, their rank in heaven, and the legends passed down about the seven archangels.

But the seven archangels still lost.

Because they were strong—and the Feathered Serpent God was stronger, even stronger!

So if even the seven archangels were beaten to spitting blood—who in heaven could stand against the Feathered Serpent God? God himself?

Suddenly, a deafening crash erupted.

From above Beimeizhou.

Akawa and countless Americans, along with Christian believers worldwide, their faces lit with relief: "The Feathered Serpent God is wounded too!"

The crash was not an explosion—it was the sound of coughing blood.

The Feathered Serpent God was too vast, his body larger than mountains and seas, his massive head like an ancient mountain peak, so even a trickle of blood from his corner of the mouth was clearly visible.

This sight thrilled Wang Zun and the others, and filled all believers worldwide with exhilaration.

The Feathered Serpent God was clearly injured.

What did this prove? It proved that even if the Feathered Serpent God was stronger than the Seven Archangels, the gap was not enormous—at least not as powerless as previously imagined, since both sides were wounded.

Even if their degrees of injury differed, the fact that both were wounded showed that the Seven Archangels could fight the Feathered Serpent God, offering a glimmer of hope.

"God bless!"

Wang Zun's face lit up with joy; he quickly picked up the cross that had fallen to the ground in fear and made the sign of the cross repeatedly.

Many believers also reclaimed their shattered faith, hurriedly clasping their fingers together and murmuring "Amen."

However.

"No, the Feathered Serpent God's wound was not caused by the Seven Archangels."

Director Takahashi suddenly spoke out, his eyes widening; simultaneously, many online users across nations noticed this too, typing rapidly and posting a photograph.

……