Chapter 322

Whether he could eat it all whole was unknown, but every day he came over and took a bite; after more than ten days, Ang had wiped clean every glowing and dimmed divine symbol, and from then on, the Holy Kingdom truly belonged to him.

After certifying the divine symbols, Ang could easily pierce through the barriers, entering and exiting the Kingdom freely without using the Heavenly Staircase.

Upon discovering this, Ang immediately certified all the others' divine symbols.

"Hehe, I'm a divine symbol holder now, look, isn't my mark pretty?" Lightning mentally conjured a unicorn head as his symbol, emphasizing its long horn.

"What divine symbol? It's just soul certification. That horn's too long—anyone seeing it would think it's a hoe."

Nagelis said irritably.

"You're the hoe, your whole family's hoes—I'm talking about a unicorn horn, a unicorn horn…" Just then, the little zombie manifested his own symbol—a hoe.

Lightning glanced at the little zombie, then at his own symbol, and silently shortened his horn.

Anthony arrived, looking both amused and exasperated as everyone enthusiastically "drew" their own symbols.

It was just a thought, mere soul certification—but the Holy Kingdom's system, whoever designed it, insisted on adding an extra mark—the divine symbol—to distinguish it from ordinary soul certification, instantly elevating its prestige.

This immediately stumped many, since most people had no artistic sense at all; they couldn't conceive a suitable symbol even if they tried.

The little zombie and little angel were fine—one hoe, one fist shoved into the eye socket—and that was it.

But people like Lisa Lu Se were problematic: Lisa demanded elegance, refused to disgrace the Goddess of Beauty, wanted to incorporate the Harvest Goddess, and include her own face—so her imagined symbol became an indescribable, complex, irregular mass.

Lu Se insisted on showcasing his charm and highlighting every feature of his Dragon-Steel-Core Silver-Woven Magic-Engraved Earth-Forged Gem-Enhanced Piercing Enchanted Dual-Handed Sword—so the sword was bigger than his face.

Anthony sighed, half-laughing: "If any theologian ever tries to catalog divine symbols, you'll make them cry. Keep it simple—like Ang's is perfect."

Ang's divine symbol was simple: a scythe crossed with a stalk of rice—minimalist yet full of power.

In the end, Anthony personally designed divine symbols for all those lacking artistic sense, completing the entire certification.

Actually, Anthony didn't need to come in person for the divine symbol certification, since he shared a soul link with Ang—he could just send the symbol and soul resonance. Silver Coin didn't come either; he sent his own symbol—a golden coin.

Anthony came in person mainly to deliver a gift.

"Last time you sang the Song of Undeath, you elevated everyone's soul, so I went back and searched the Tribunal's archives. They'd sealed many items the Church of Light deemed heretical—I hoped to find records about the Song of Undeath. And sure enough, I found something."

As he spoke, Anthony pulled out an iron codex.

The iron codex was an ancient medium for recording text, made of thin copper and iron plates strung together, inscribed with characters.

Such objects were rare, since wood and bamboo were easier to obtain and more durable; copper and iron corroded over time and rarely survived.

More often, they were used as ritual objects—like the one before them.

Six iron plates strung together, shrouded in black mist, utterly free of rust, the first page bore a large engraved character: "Wu."

"Witch?!" Nagelis gasped, eyes wide—was this a witch's artifact?

He eagerly flipped through the pages—all were blank; the patterns suggested something had been forcibly erased.

"Where are the characters?" Nagelis asked urgently.

"Erased. In the Tribunal, all heretical items are sealed, destroyed, and expunged," Anthony said.

"So you call this a gift? Sending a codex with erased text is no different from giving a knife without a blade," Nagelis snapped.

"Don't rush. Though the characters are gone, there are rubbings—I found the original rubbings." Anthony extended his hand, and three translucent images of iron plates appeared above his palm.

Anthony explained: "I can't bring out the original rubbings—I only memorized them. I was shown them for thirty seconds, and I only remembered the first three pages."

Nagelis leaned in, peering curiously: "Wait—what do you mean? You took the codex, but you can't bring the rubbings? Only thirty seconds? Who dares limit even you?"

Anthony shrugged helplessly: "No choice. The Tribunal is equal in rank to us. Even though I've declared myself Acting Pope, even the legitimate Pope, Gulliani, must obey their rules when he enters their domain. They're the only department directly led by the God of Judgment—no other Light Deities can control them. Oh, didn't you ask about the God of Judgment's symbol a few days ago?"

"Now I remember," Nagelis said. "When we wiped the divine symbols, the God of Judgment's symbol glowed—and when we erased it, a consciousness projected over. He might still be alive—or reborn."

Anthony nodded: "He's probably still alive. Remember when I said a miracle descended after the Kings and Deities vanished? That was the God of Judgment. That's why, ever since, I've never dared act recklessly."

The dragon and the man exchanged a glance, each seeing their own thoughts reflected in the other's eyes.

But then Anthony shook his head: "No, no. The Tribunal only judges heretics—they don't care who's Pope. As long as I pay on time, they never interfere. Even when I entered their warehouse, they didn't stop me. No need to provoke such an enemy. I'll just go back a few more times and memorize the remaining pages."

Nagelis asked: "What about the God of Judgment?"

Anthony looked torn: "Is that wise? Do we even have the strength to kill a god? The God of Judgment?"

He had witnessed the God of Judgment's power. This divine entity, dedicated solely to judgment, was nothing like weak deities like the Scale or the Redeemer. Now that they knew he wasn't dead, and yet they considered killing him—did they truly have that power?

Nagelis thought for a moment, then nodded: "You're right. Damn, I've gotten a bit swollen-headed. We've stolen the Light God's divine essence—we've started looking down on the gods. But if he's a god who never died, and still retains his power from a thousand years ago, he's definitely not something we can casually handle. By the way, when was his last descent?"

"When I infiltrated the Church of Light, five hundred years ago—the Hemer insect plague. That's when the God of Judgment descended to purge it," Anthony recalled.

Suddenly, the entire Holy Kingdom trembled.

"What's happening?" Everyone turned to Ang simultaneously.

Ang tilted his head: "Someone's knocking."

The knocking was too loud. Everyone rushed to the temple roof and saw the landing point of the Heavenly Staircase—where bursts of light erupted repeatedly, shaking the entire Kingdom.

Someone was trying to teleport in but was blocked by the dimensional barrier—unauthenticated and without the Kingdom's scepter.

A name flashed through Nagelis's mind: "God of Judgment? Hss…"

He realized how absurd his earlier thought had been—a veteran deity capable of shattering dimensional barriers—and he'd just considered provoking him? He'd clearly gotten too full of himself.

Still, Ang, when transformed into Luo Ke, could break dimensional barriers with his bare hands—who was stronger?

"Good, good—his divine symbol's been wiped. He can't get in anymore," Nagelis sighed in relief.

The shaking continued fifteen times, then ceased entirely—presumably, the intruder realized he couldn't break through and gave up.

"One question: if he's been alive all these thousand years, why didn't he return here?" Nagelis asked, puzzled.

Anthony spread his hands: "How should I know? Maybe all the other gods died, and he got bored. Or maybe he was wounded and went to recover. Or maybe he was terrified."

"Terrified?" Nagelis exclaimed.

"Yeah. The Lord of Mourning went to kill the Abyssal King. Luo Ke went to kill the Archangel. Who killed the other gods? Maybe Luo Ke. Maybe Your Majesty did it himself. So maybe he got scared." Anthony shrugged. "Just guesses. Maybe next time he knocks, we let him in and ask?"

All speculation without the original's confirmation was just speculation. Anthony left the three pages of iron codex rubbings and departed first. If anyone in the world was the busiest, Anthony could at least compete for top three—he hadn't slept in a long time.

Ang memorized the Song of Undeath from the rubbings but didn't sing it—singing required soul energy, and his soul energy was barely enough for farming; singing had to wait.

So Ang returned to his most familiar rhythm: farming, farming, farming. If undisturbed, he could farm forever until every territory under his control was planted.

During this time, the western ecclesiastical district of the main plane descended into chaos.

The chaos in the western district had been anticipated by all. Anthony had prepared early, sealing every border checkpoint—out of sight, out of mind.

Without sufficient food, the crisis in the west could not be resolved. The only solution was already recorded in history.

Anthony could only seal the checkpoints to prevent famine from spreading to the eastern district, while desperately sending requests to all planes for grain purchases—and sending any surplus to the western border.

There, he built many refugee camps, sheltering countless starving people.

He also urged believers along the coast to change their diets, eating more seafood to save grain for inland areas.

Silver Coin had sold him 150, 00 tons of grain. If managed well, as he did in the eastern district, it could save many lives—but it wasn't.

Dai Sen lacked the ability for fine management—even fair distribution was beyond him. Anthony supplied him with 50, 00 tons of grain, and that same day, he distributed it all to his subordinates; ordinary believers and civilians saw not a single grain.

Anthony anticipated this. When surplus grain arrived later, he stopped sending it to Dai Sen and sent it directly to the refugee camps. The camps were chaotic and poorly managed, but they saved far more lives than Dai Sen ever did—this damn western district archbishop.

To resolve the severe famine, Anthony requested an interplanar security meeting and directly accused Dai Sen: "Your district is in ruins—how many have starved? Can't you show some dignity and do something? If you're incapable, step down and let someone more competent take over."

Dai Sen retorted: "This has nothing to do with me. I've only just taken over the western district. This is all Nicolas's legacy—he's returned to the embrace of the gods. If you have complaints, go find him in heaven."

You don't believe me? I just came back from heaven, Anthony muttered inwardly, then turned on Gulliani: "Your Majesty, this is the man you chose? Shifting blame onto his predecessor?"

The teleportation conference showed no faces, but on the other end, Gulliani's face had darkened to dripping black. He'd always kept church internal disputes contained. Even Anthony's self-declaration as Holy Church had never been brought to a security meeting—Anthony's move was a direct, open betrayal.

Gulliani lamented: "Why can't you wait and discuss this back at the Church? Must you do it here?"

Return to the Church? I'd never make it out alive, Anthony muttered, then continued: "If you could solve the problem, would I be shouting here? Teleportation is expensive. Everyone else can solve it—your chosen man can't. Is it your judgment that's flawed, or his ability?"

Gulliani was left speechless. Without comparison, everyone was equally terrible—but Anthony's handling was glaringly brilliant. The entire plane was starving—why was Anthony's eastern district free of famine? Was it truly a matter of ability?

Dai Sen fumed: "You conspire with demons—you can buy grain endlessly. If you're so capable, share your supply channel! I'll buy too—see if I can solve it!"

"You're the one consorting with demons, you incompetent dog-man, failing at your job and slandering others," Anthony snapped.

"You… you… you incompetent pig-man!" Dai Sen had no experience with insults; he stammered for a while before parroting "pig-man"—utterly powerless.

Gellard, growing impatient, interrupted: "Enough. I didn't come here to listen to your bickering. If you want to buy grain, I know a source—try them. They grow the Tree of Life and salt rice. Their farming techniques are exceptional."

Anthony nearly choked internally—he knew exactly who Gellard meant. He wanted to say his grain had already been bought out—but he couldn't; publicly, he had no connection to Ang's faction.

Now it was a problem. He'd planned to manipulate the elves—among those present, only the elves might still have surplus grain. But she'd been sent away early—what now?