Chapter 634: Avenger

In Fang Xing's view, faith is a covenant between man and god—a transaction!

Believers offer faith and daily offerings in exchange for their souls to ascend to the divine realm after death, living eternally in bliss.

But how could a true god's church treat a devout believer this way?

And yet, not even a divine punishment was inflicted?

"This Wu Yong might still be excused as the result of subordinates failing to do their duty… but if other examples are found…"

Fang Xing glanced around.

Drawn by the food, more and more wraiths were gathering.

For ordinary cultivators, this might be deadly—but for him, it meant nothing.

"Go!"

He scooped up a handful of spirit bamboo seeds and scattered them across the ground.

Instantly, flameshade bamboo sprouted, their grains releasing a fragrant aroma.

The wraiths surrounding him instantly turned, clutching the bamboo and began gnawing…

Fang Xing extended his perception, searched, and found several more unlucky souls.

All of them were believers—but after death, their spirits were never summoned to the divine realm…

"Combined with the layout of the eighteen layers of hell… could it be that only A Sita was naive, while all the gods of the Zhou Shenchao pantheon deliberately abandoned the souls of shallow—or even true—believers in hell… then tortured them through the eighteen layers to squeeze out every last drop of energy before letting them vanish?"

Fang Xing shook his head: "No wonder these western gods—such crude methods…"

The divine realm naturally consumes energy to house believer souls.

High-quality believers bring surplus, strengthening divine power.

But low-quality souls create deficits—even if they break even, the gods still lose.

Fang Xing suspected this was the drawback of gods who had migrated here.

If they ruled over western ethnic groups, it would pose little problem.

But when western gods rule over an eastern nation and still play such games, it's a disaster!

Eastern ancestors believed: "Are kings, generals, and ministers born of noble blood?"—they valued practicality above all.

No matter what god you worship, if useful, you may pray; if useless, you smash the temple and chop down the mountain.

Western ancestors believed gods governed everything—when disaster struck, they only prayed for divine protection or favor, waiting for a boat in the flood, dying without trying to escape, blaming themselves for original sin from birth…

But eastern ancestors believed man could overcome heaven—when heaven cracked, mend it; when too many suns blazed, shoot them down; if gods acted wickedly, slay them!

"These Zhou Shenchao gods, ruling with western thinking, seem fine on the surface—but in truth, the problems are immense…"

Fang Xing shook his head: "These wraiths… if they had strength, they'd surely tear off a piece of flesh from the true gods, even at the cost of their lives."

"Hatred has already been accumulating in the shadows."

Fang Xing observed one soul's memory after another, silently thinking.

Then he turned to Lu Zhong.

The temple warrior's condition was strange—on his body, face after face appeared.

These faces were male and female, old and young—their only common trait: all screamed and wept in anguish.

As a righteous emissary, he must pity the weak—and now, feeling these helpless souls' emotions, Lu Zhong's faith trembled: "No… my lord…"

Lu Zhong's eyes still bled—he saw an old beggar who lived a lonely, miserable life, donating his last copper coin to the church before death.

Yet after death, his soul still fell into hell!

He saw a faithful believer who lived a virtuous life, dismissed by divine messengers for having a weak spirit.

Finally, he saw the souls abandoned by his own redemption church…

"Aaaah!"

Lu Zhong's expression twisted, screaming in agony.

His faith shattered—just as he had easily gained power from church and gods, that same power now turned against him.

Typically, elite professionals, especially half-step legendary experts, carry divine observation.

Once their fall is detected, divine punishment will descend—death is certain.

But under Fang Xing's "Divine Eye Beyond Reach," Lu Zhong's god had not noticed his defection.

Thus, Lu Zhong gained a sliver of chance.

"Aaaah!"

As Lu Zhong screamed and holy fire erupted over his body, the strange, phantom faces on his skin rushed eagerly into the flames.

Heehee…

Hahaha…

When Lu Zhong's cries ceased, he resembled a man grievously burned.

Only his eyes remained bright!

Even his aura strengthened further, truly reaching the threshold of legend!

"Congratulations—you've awakened from the gods' lies."

"Now, what shall you call yourself? Demon Warrior? Or… Avenger?"

A faint smile curled on Fang Xing's lips.

To kill this man who once tried to slay him would merely send him to the divine realm for bliss.

This—this is the truest revenge.

"Demon…"

He spoke, voice hoarse: "If your goal was to corrupt me… congratulations—you succeeded."

"Heh, what do you deserve from me?"

Fang Xing chuckled: "I only came to see the underworld—used you as a pathfinder."

He stepped forward, preparing to head to the next frozen hell.

Lu Zhong, for reasons unknown, followed behind Fang Xing.

He had now utterly abandoned faith, becoming a true "faithless one"—his heart burned with rage; the stronger his former devotion to the gods, the deeper his hatred now, and he vowed to spend his life avenging them—even if it cost him death!

Fang Xing paid no mind to this fool who couldn't endure even the first layer of hell. His mind and will were unbreakable—even witnessing such human tragedies, he remained unmoved.

Soon, they reached the Frozen Hell.

Compared to the scorching heat of the previous layer, this realm's air constantly radiated a chill capable of freezing souls.

The wandering souls here were those whose hatred could not be dissolved by the first layer of hell!

Next came the Tongue-Pulling Hell, the Skin-Flaying Hell, the Mortar-Pounding Hell, the Chariot-Crushing Hell…

Fang Xing toured each layer in turn, occasionally casting blessings upon the spirits.

Finally, they reached the eighteenth layer: the Hell of Uninterrupted Torment.

Named "Uninterrupted" because time has no meaning here—souls trapped within suffer eternally until they vanish, with no redemption possible.

Drip… drip…

Lu Zhong saw a wraith so faint it glowed like a firefly, yet still refused to dissipate.

He couldn't help but shed tears: "What kind of obsession could keep a soul trapped in the Hell of Uninterrupted Torment, refusing to dissolve?"

"Heh… as long as you exist, you live; if you give up, you truly vanish into nothingness."

Fang Xing sneered: "To survive—that is the greatest obsession!"

No error, no mistake, no flaw in content!

He felt that with his own obsession, even in the Hell of Uninterrupted Torment, he would be the most stubborn of all.

The Hell of Uninterrupted Torment was not large—everything around was a gray haze.

The two walked for a long time before spotting a few firefly-like wraiths.

"Demon… sir… what exactly are you seeking?"

At last, Lu Zhong could no longer hold back and asked.

He had wondered this since before.

"I'm not seeking anything—I'm seeking what's missing here…"

Fang Xing shook his head, then suddenly stopped.

Before him lay a broken alms bowl.

Lu Zhong knew this, too, was the manifestation of a soul's obsession.

Trapped in the Hell of Uninterrupted Torment, some souls chose to transform into unchanging objects like eternal stones to resist.

Fang Xing released a trace of perception—and before his eyes appeared an old monk, ears pierced and deafened, eyes blinded by poison, throat severed to silence, hands and feet broken, resembling a human-pig, biting his tongue to write sutras in blood: "I curse… those lofty gods… one day, they shall fall eternally into the endless hellfire!"

"A worthy vow."

Fang Xing commented, then tossed the bowl to Lu Zhong.

Lu Zhong caught it, first sensing intense resentment, then gasped: "This bowl… it gives me the feeling of a sacred relic from the church—even if faint…"

"It's a Fushen!"

Fang Xing explained: "It has endured here for a century, naturally gathering a trace of divine essence, becoming a Fushen… for us easterners, all things can become gods!"

Lu Zhong's upbringing made him want to say this was blasphemy, sacrilege—after all, western gods were born divine.

But remembering he had become an Avenger, he instead regarded the bowl with solemn attention.

The bowl was no divine artifact, its power seemed weak.

Yet that one essence stirred in him a strange familiarity.

Like a cub tiger that can be killed by hyenas—it is still a tiger, still bearing the tiger's majesty!

Fang Xing smiled and communed with the water element.

Splash!

In this silent realm, where time itself seemed halted, a sudden splash of water echoed.

A tranquil river suddenly flowed through the Hell of No Interval.

Fang Xing casually scattered it, and on the opposite bank, blossoms of eerie beauty emerged.

"This is..."

Lu Zhong understood Fang Xing less than ever.

"These are the Bianhua..."

Fang Xing said: "I just thought this place was dull—added a bit of scenery."

"You think I believe that?"

Lu Zhong wore an expression of utter disbelief.

Souls that had sunk to the lowest layer of the Eighteen Layers of Hell and lingered for over a century without dispersing—he didn't need to guess to know what destruction they'd unleash given the chance.

"Enough. We should go. If we stay any longer, they'll notice."

Fang Xing glanced at Lu Zhong; a flash of emerald light suddenly enveloped both of them.

Zhou Shenchao.

In a remote wilderness, deep within a dense forest.

Nature suddenly opened a gate, allowing the two to step out.

"I actually... left the Underworld so easily? No... this is a power only deities possess!"

Lu Zhong's dark eyes fixed on Fang Xing: "Who are you?"

To retrieve souls from the Underworld is the exclusive right of deities, and deities delegate this power to divine messengers.

No one else could possibly accomplish this—it is the foundation of the faith system's operation.

"I am not a god, but I am indeed a great demon."

Fang Xing laughed aloud, his form vanishing instantly, his voice lingering: "Wu Kong Lao Zu... the True Demon's Homeland..."

"You? The True Demon Lord?"

Lu Zhong's pupils dilated: "The True Demon Lord isn't a false god—he's a true deity!?"

(End of Chapter)