Chapter 220: You Stepped on My Head!

The dimensional beast was crying, howling mournfully, heartbroken that the people it had waited so long for had simply turned their backs and left.

It curled into a ball, howling endlessly, ignoring everyone.

Its caretaker was nearly driven mad, bringing out its favorite spirit beans to cheer it up—but it showed no reaction at all.

This was a colossal beast over fifty meters in diameter; though it looked larger due to its thick fur, its true size was still immense, and if it refused to engage, no ordinary method could soothe it.

Ignoring people was one thing, but today was different: the investigator assigned to the Yulian disappearance case had arrived and required the dimensional beast's cooperation.

What is a caretaker for, if not to calm the dimensional beast and make it cooperate? If it won't even cooperate, what good is a caretaker?

Just as the caretaker sweated profusely in panic, a barefoot ascetic in a tattered, worn robe arrived at the seal's edge and asked: "Still refusing to cooperate?"

"I'm sorry, Lord Dresc, the dimensional beast doesn't know what's wrong today—it's never acted like this before," the caretaker replied, offering a small defense for the beast.

Dresc's face remained expressionless: "Perhaps it did something it regrets. Let me handle it."

The caretaker's heart sank—Dresc's words were no ordinary remark; was he already presuming guilt against the dimensional beast?

Dresc approached the seal's edge, located its core, and stood barefoot upon it.

Holy light ignited around him, alive as liquid, flowing down his body and seeping into the seal's core.

As the holy light poured in, the entire seal slowly glowed brighter.

The caretaker's soothing attempts the beast could ignore—but now that the seal was activated, it could not disregard it. It let out a howl and shrank to the opposite side of the seal, watching Dresc with wary eyes.

Dresc stared at it, his voice cold: "Your eyes still burn with wildness. Has our leniency given you too much freedom? Do not forget—you are a prisoner. Our mercy is not your license to act out. Where is Yulian?"

"Howl~" the dimensional beast cried.

"Stop making sounds no one understands. Those fallen souls spoiled you—thought all you needed was to roll around, whimper, and beg for attention, never even needing to speak, just howling 'howl-howl' all day." Dresc lamented bitterly.

He had seen too many people, lost in desire and indulgence, stagnating, rotting—first petting cats and dogs, then growing bolder, keeping demonic beasts and entertaining beastfolk, and now even treating a dimensional beast like a pet. It was utterly disgraceful.

"I'll ask you once more: where is Yulian?" Dresc demanded.

"Howl!" the dimensional beast cried again.

Dresc stomped his foot. The seal blazed violently—a surge of lightning erupted from it, striking the dimensional beast.

Every hair on the beast stood rigid, its body puffing out dramatically, its eyes bulging wide, smoke rising from its form as it collapsed with a sizzle, melting into a puddle.

"The seal isn't just a cage—it's a weapon of punishment. It's been unused for so long, everyone's forgotten its true purpose," Dresc murmured.

"I'll ask you again: where is Yulian? Why did his life force vanish after passing through your spatial passage? Who killed him? Was it you?" Dresc demanded sharply.

"Howl, howl-howl!"

Though still just "howls," miraculously, Dresc understood their meaning: "You didn't kill him? Can you swear by holy light?"

The dimensional beast nodded vigorously, its eyes filled with earnest sincerity.

It hadn't killed him—it had merely banished him.

"Your eyes tell me you speak truth—but I sense you're hiding something vital. You didn't kill him, but he died because of you," Dresc said.

The dimensional beast shook its head frantically.

"Your eyes are no longer sincere. You're lying. Tell me—how did you cause Yulian's death?" Dresc asked.

The beast's entire face twisted in distress—it realized that under Dresc's gaze, it could hide nothing; its secrets were laid bare at a glance.

What to do? Betray its allies? Expose Ang and his people and their plane? Should it? Yes—those people wouldn't come to save it anyway. Fine, I'll expose them. Let these monsters tear their homes apart.

The beast struggled internally, its inner scale tilting slowly.

At that moment, Dresc, growing impatient, stomped his foot hard.

Normally, such a stomp would activate the seal's punishment and strike the beast again—but this time, as he stomped, a loud crack echoed, and the ground collapsed into a deep hole. Dresc, unprepared, plunged downward.

Dresc's strength was undeniable, his reflexes swift—but the suddenness was too great. Even the greatest sword saint couldn't bite his own cheek.

With no warning, Dresc stomped himself into the hole, felt something beneath his foot halt his fall, and seized the edge with both hands to steady himself.

Regaining his posture, he looked down—and saw a bald skull. He had stepped directly on its cranium.

Ang had already removed his hat; since the hole opened upward, falling debris would easily smash his straw hat, so now he appeared as a skull.

The skull beneath him tilted its face upward, its hollow eye sockets burning with furious flames, its jaw clacking open and shut as it roared: "You stepped on my head!"

The word "head" was bellowed—and Dresc felt as if struck by an invisible hammer, his vision going black.

Instinctively, he shut his eyes and whispered: "Steadfast!"

The soul shock faded swiftly; holy flames erupted from his body, forming a holy armor that clamped onto him, while his foot slammed downward again.

A purple-golden bone hand met his foot—BOOM! A violent shockwave exploded in the pit, like a magic egg stuffed into a cannon, blasting Dresc clean into the sky.

WHOOSH! Two pairs of wings snapped open behind him—one true, one luminous—halting his flight instantly.

The surrounding followers of the Light gasped in shock; most had looked down on Dresc for his plain attire and bare feet, finding him too unremarkable.

Only now did they realize the terrifying power hidden beneath his humble exterior: a monk bearing a four-winged angel.

Six-winged archangels were all named, known, and embodied—like the Seraphim Luna—but four-winged angels were the highest level of divine possession; most mortal bodies could not withstand such power.

Only ascetics—devout believers who embraced suffering as joy—could easily bear the power of a four-winged angel.

Yet as the awed crowd stared at the mighty ascetic, he looked down into the pit—and saw a sight that froze his soul.

The explosion had not only blasted him skyward—it had also driven the skull downward. But replacing it in the pit was not a skull, but a four-winged angel—a pure, true celestial angel, not his own borrowed, diluted form.

That true celestial angel spread its four wings, poised and ready.

PS: Supplement to this morning's chapter.