Chapter 100: Twelve Angels Escort

Ang held his hands out in front of himself and the sapling.

A column of radiant light brushed the ground and struck Ang’s hands, hissing up white smoke and sparks; the holy light’s bonus damage continued to afflict the touched areas even after the column vanished, though the damage…

On Ang’s right, the Hand of Locke had been corroded by magic, pitted and cratered; the index and ring finger bones were broken, leaving only the middle, thumb, and pinky fingers still intact.

But the forearm section replaced with Locke’s bone was unharmed, merely blackened on the surface—wipe it clean and it restored to its original state.

The Left Passage Hand on his left remained perfectly intact.

Where both hands had been struck, the holy light’s bonus damage persisted, hissing white smoke and sparking; the right hand’s thumb and pinky finally gave way and snapped off, leaving only the middle finger standing tall.

Ang had lost one palm, but the light shadow that had cast Holy Radiance lay on the ground, its luminous aura dimming steadily—it was just like the angel skeletons, one shot and dead.

Holy light could harm undead—could soul energy extinguish holy light? Ang’s hands ignited with soul flame; the hissing, smoking hands rapidly suppressed the lingering holy damage, which vanished completely soon after.

With this angel, no more angels were dispatched; even the heavenly staircase’s light column gradually faded and vanished entirely.

Ang, still alert, pulled out Locke’s palm bone and tried attaching it to his right hand—huh? It worked.

When he first obtained it, only the arm bone could be driven by the Hand of Locke; now he could fully assemble it—clearly, Ang’s soul strength had grown substantially.

Thus, the Hand of Locke was completely replaced; Ang, whose soul was only at Gold Skeleton level, now possessed a complete, unbreakable—even by Holy Radiance—Hand of Mourning.

Another hour passed, the sky slowly brightened, the Wind of Rest ceased, and everyone emerged from the pit, then saw a sight that stunned them utterly.

Around the point where the light column had struck, at least three thousand slender skeletons knelt, most in identical poses—hands clasping swords, one knee on the ground. The few with varied or scattered postures were all those Ang had blasted to death.

The smallest among them lay prone just second-closest to Ang; if there was no mistake, it was the one that had cast Holy Radiance.

Regardless of how they had originally died, all now lay bare-boned, stripped of their sacred aura.

But this was not the most shocking sight—the more astonishing sight was a city hanging upside-down in the sky, tens of thousands of meters above.

Yesterday it had looked like a mountain peak; today its true form was clear—it was no mountain, but a city, its buildings clearly visible, streets laid out in orderly blocks, all districts accounted for, just smaller in scale.

And the entire city hung upside-down—looking up from here, would everything inside fall out?

Obviously not; the city above had its own gravity; from within the city, it was Ang and the others’ location that appeared inverted.

This massive city hung like an inverted bowl in the sky, seemingly stuck there, motionless.

“Is this the Holy Heaven?” Negril asked. “Can you see anyone up there?”

“No, nothing moving.” Tens of thousands of meters meant dozens of kilometers—no one’s eyes could discern whether there were people that far away.

Anthony closed his eyes and murmured: “The power of light, pierce the mist of distance, reach the other shore—Eyes of the Other Shore!”

He shouted the final four words, then suddenly opened his eyes—two bursts of white light erupted from them, as if twin beams were ready to fire.

He gazed upward with glowing eyes for a moment, then shook his head: “No one. Nothing moving at all. Just a dead city. Is there anyone who can fly? Fly up and take a closer look.”

Negril flapped his tiny wings and rose thirty meters; the angel skeleton flapped its large wings and rose three meters.

Ang used wind elements to lift himself to three hundred meters; at this height, horizontal winds disrupted the vertical wind elements, overwhelming Ang’s first-tier wind magic.

To fly higher, he needed a more advanced wind spell.

After everyone tried, Ang was the highest flyer.

“What now?” Lu Se asked helplessly. “Will it fall? Such a massive thing—if it crashes, everything’s done for.”

“Don’t even say ‘crashes’—if it truly fell, the entire plane might be destroyed. But it seems to have stopped moving.” Negril said. “Still, everyone prepare: if it does fall, teleport away immediately.”

“What about these angels? Will more be dispatched? Do we need to set up defenses?” Lu Se asked.

“Probably not.” Negril was just as confused. “For over an hour before the wind stopped, no more angels came. Probably none left? If there were any, given their nature, wouldn’t they have kept jumping into the Wind of Rest one after another?”

No one knew if more angels remained, or how to handle the city in the sky. After aimless discussion, they could only station guards at the staircase’s landing point.

Finally, everyone’s gaze turned to the three thousand angel skeletons. Anthony said: “These bones—I…”

Before he finished, Negril interrupted: “No. These are all Ang’s spoils. You didn’t lift a finger.”

“Uh, there are thousands—give me twelve. I’ll find a way to revive them, have them escort me back to the Church. No need to fabricate lies anymore—twelve angels lined up on either side, and my status as a Chosen of the Divine is instantly confirmed.”

Seeing Negril’s reluctant expression, Anthony hurried on: “Fair exchange—I know. When I become Pope, I’ll empty the entire Church’s treasury to repay you. Deal?”

Negril instantly smiled, flew over to ask Ang, then returned: “Fine, fine. Remember the thirty thousand magic crystals’ Holy Essence Liquid, and six thousand magic crystals’ World Tree Bud scrambled eggs. The rest? No charge.”

Anthony cheerfully selected twelve first-tier angel relics and carried them off.

Aside from Church elites, most didn’t know the smaller the angel, the stronger its combat power. First-tier angels were tall—though weak in battle, they were excellent at intimidation.

After much effort, all the holy relics were teleported to the Prime Material Plane; as they slowly revived the angels, Anthony whispered to each, altering their memories.

Once, Anthony had feared the Light Gods—but now, he feared nothing.

A month later, escorted by twelve first-tier angels, Anthony arrived at the Sacred Blade Army’s encampment.

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