Chapter 347

When Anthony arrived at the Mercenaries' Guild, countless onlookers had already surrounded the entrance tent in a tight circle.

For safety, Anthony's guard first drove the onlookers aside, then he and Ange entered the tent together.

"It's the Ascetic An! It's the Ascetic An! Could it be that the Great Resurrection Spell wasn't cast by Lord Anthony, but by Lord Ascetic An? Very likely—no wonder!"

Among the crowd, many had clearly seen "Ascetic An" before; Ange's appearance immediately triggered a wave of hushed murmurs.

Negrilis, projected onto Ange, grumbled to Du Luo: "You talk about harvesting faith, but you're just making Ange do all the work. I knew it—Anthony would never do a losing deal."

"Huh? Not a losing deal?" Du Luo asked, surprised. "He sold the Light believers to the God of Undeath—they deserve the Soul Prison, uh, they love the pyre."

Now it was Negrilis's turn to be embarrassed: "I just don't like him. It's just my usual complaining."

What's losing or winning? What Anthony is doing now is the gravest sin in religion—no deity could ever tolerate it. If the Light Gods still existed, they would have already torn Anthony apart.

Negrilis knew this perfectly well—it was just routine venting. But if Ange truly ignored Anthony, the first one to panic would be Negrilis.

Inside the tent, the other party had already been waiting; Chief Kaji had returned earlier and was already present.

The tent was large—a military-grade field tent—capable of squeezing in hundreds if needed. But now, only four people were inside: Ange, Anthony, Chief Kaji, and a mysterious figure wrapped entirely in a cloak, revealing only a pair of eyes.

Before the mysterious figure lay a coffin—narrow at both ends, wide in the middle, split into two sections, with the upper half able to open.

Beside the mysterious figure's feet was a sack, its uneven shape suggesting it contained a human body.

Anthony studied the mysterious figure for a moment, then suddenly said: "Long time no see."

The mysterious figure startled violently, quickly scanning himself, fearing he had revealed something.

But after checking all over, nothing was exposed—he was wrapped tightly.

Realizing Anthony might be bluffing, the mysterious figure spoke in a muffled tone: "You posted the bounty—deliver Count Hess's head, and you grant one resurrection. Isn't that right?"

Anthony smiled: "Correct. Provided death occurred within one day."

"What happens if death exceeds one day?" the mysterious figure asked, voice muffled.

"Memory loss? Incomplete consciousness? Madness? A walking corpse?" Anthony spread his hands.

The mysterious figure nodded, then turned to Chief Kaji: "Chief Kaji, witness this."

He opened the sack at his feet, revealing Count Hess's terrified face—this nobleman had been captured alive to claim the bounty.

Seeing Anthony, Count Hess screamed: "No, don't kill me! I'll pay double the reward—double!"

Before he finished speaking, the mysterious figure flicked his hand lightly—Count Hess's head rolled off with a gurgle. Even the blood that should have spurted from the neck was gently suppressed by a subtle pressure, oozing out instead of spraying across the tent.

Anthony sneered and muttered: "Six hundred lives. Six hundred souls yearning for the Light. Go beg the gods for them. I'll send you to heaven to meet them."

He turned to Ange and nodded, then whispered something.

Ange tilted his head, then nodded, walking toward the coffin.

The mysterious figure studied Ange, his eyes filled with scrutiny and doubt.

At the coffin, Ange opened the upper half, revealing a corpse tightly wrapped in holy burial shrouds. He poked it—hard, but not dry and brittle; more like the texture of muscle.

Unwrapping the shroud, it was indeed a corpse—dead for countless years—but unlike ordinary corpses, its shrinkage was minimal.

Normally, a corpse shrinks to one-third its living size after drying, unless hardened like a zombie or lich, retaining about seventy percent of its original weight.

This corpse showed no hardening, yet showed little shrinkage—it felt as if the body was too dense to shrink at all.

The corpse still vaguely retained its living appearance: a stern middle-aged man.

Ange summoned holy light and smeared it over the corpse. Slowly, the corpse swelled back to fullness.

The mysterious figure watched, eyes widening in shock: "Purification technique? Impossible! Re-definition?"

Anthony smiled faintly, offering no rebuttal. He had already confirmed the man's identity. Since both were experts, explanations were meaningless—just disguise. This was purification technique. Why it produced such an effect? The gods held final authority.

Which god would explain it? Perhaps the Scales? Disagree? Then—let the godwar begin!

As Ange's power grew, Anthony's confidence swelled. Once, he merely sought to compete for the papacy while the Light Gods were gone. Now, he was already preparing to seize the authority to interpret divine revelations.

Ange pulled out a nutrient solution, poured it into the corpse's mouth, then another bottle, sprinkling it evenly over the skin, all while summoning holy light.

Continuous holy light nourished the desiccated corpse; the corpse swelled rapidly, like water filling a dry vessel.

The mysterious figure watched Ange's actions, his awe deepening. Any divine practitioner who witnessed Ange's casting would be instinctively stunned: How can he sustain this? Can any mortal truly endure this long?

Of course, no mortal can. Only a god himself.

As Ange activated the corpse, he suddenly grabbed the holy burial shroud and draped it over his hand. Under its cover, he reached into the Palace of Rest, retrieved an object, tapped the corpse once, then swiftly withdrew it.

The holy burial shroud blocked all perception and sight. The mysterious figure panicked, lunging sideways to peer—only to feel a blur of motion; Anthony had already stepped between them.

"Exclusive secret technique. Please, my lord, do not stare," Anthony said with a smile.

The mysterious figure glared at Anthony, then turned back to Ange. Ange had already lowered the shroud. After a moment's hesitation—perhaps thinking such a brief time allowed no mischief—he clenched his teeth and held back.

Turning to Anthony, the mysterious figure took a deep breath and asked: "How did you recognize me?"

"From your reaction. When I said 'long time no see,' your first instinct was to check if you'd been exposed—clearly, you knew I recognized you," Anthony replied.

The mysterious figure understood: "So that's it. I exposed myself. Anthony, you are blessed by the Light of Wisdom. I hope you will do more good for the Light."

"Indeed, my lord. I will purify the Light corrupted by heretical gods," Anthony smiled, stepping aside.

At Ange's side, the final step arrived. He summoned holy light and punched the corpse's heart—Rebirth.

The corpse convulsed violently, drew in a deep breath, and began breathing on its own. Its heart beat normally.

The mysterious figure and Chief Kaji stared, eyes wide with disbelief.

Anthony interjected: "Since the corpse died over a day ago, whether it awakens, retains memories, or becomes mentally impaired—we take no responsibility. Chief Kaji, witness this."

Chief Kaji stepped forward, probed the body, touched it. As blood flowed, the corpse's pale skin gradually flushed with color. His touch shifted from cold to warm. He gasped repeatedly: "A miracle! It's truly alive? A true miracle!"

Confirming the corpse was truly alive, Kaji approached Ange, placed his hand over his chest, and bowed: "Lord An, you have performed a miracle. The Mercenaries' Guild, Lan Kaji, pays you homage."

Ange tilted his head.

Anthony quickly stepped in, grasping Kaji's hand: "Lord An has spent years in ascetic seclusion—he is not skilled in speech. I accept your homage on his behalf."

"Good, good," Kaji realized through the pressure of Anthony's grip—Anthony understood his intent. The homage was merely to make Lord An remember his name: Lan Kaji.

Seeing Anthony's tact, Kaji naturally reciprocated, whispering: "Lord Anthony, if you have another resurrection slot, please reserve one for me."

He stepped out of the tent, raised his hands, and declared triumphantly: "Lord An has performed a miracle! The bounty has been claimed!"

"Whoa!" A wave of uproar swept the crowd. Everyone understood what Kaji's words meant: someone had truly been resurrected.

Ange and Anthony exited the tent. The crowd surged forward in chaos.

"Ah—Shilila—Mamia—…" A holy hymn rose, soothing every soul. The commotion gradually calmed. Anthony waved his hand, parading through the crowd with grandeur, calming them, then led Ange away.

This parade earned Ange countless more soul flames.

Back at his own territory, Negrilis demanded: "Who was that guy?"

"Guliani," Anthony said.

"Really him? Damn! Who is he trying to resurrect?" Negrilis asked, stunned.

"A divine body. Otherwise, why wouldn't he care whether it wakes up? Someone descends onto it—it awakens."

"Then why resurrect it?" Negrilis asked.

"The Church doesn't have only one divine body. If not this one, we'll use another. The lord is right here—why fear a single descended divine body?" Anthony smiled.

If he didn't resurrect it, Anthony would break his word. Compared to his reputation, a divine body was negligible. Even true gods were useless—otherwise, the Goddess of Redemption wouldn't have been stripped of her temple.

"That's true. But why let Ange use the Shadow Staff on it?" Negrilis said.

At this, Anthony hurriedly asked Ange: "How was it? Did the Shadow Staff work?"

Before Ange could answer, Du Luo was already shouting: "What? You doubt my alchemy?"

If the Shadow Staff failed, it meant Du Luo's alchemy was flawed. To ask such a question before the builder of the World Transit Station, the designer of the Palace of Rest—wasn't that questioning his skill? No wonder Du Luo was furious.

"No, no! I just wanted to confirm if it made contact. Lord Du Luo, you're incredible—turning divine souls into weapons! Unbelievable! You're the greatest alchemist in history!" Anthony gushed.

Du Luo didn't humble himself: "You're right. But due to the divine soul crystal, the Shadow Staff can only be used three times. I used it once for testing, once now—only one use left. Use it carefully."

…

Guliani carried the coffin back and placed it before the God of the Smooth Surface.

"My favorite body. You've thought of everything," the Smooth Surface nodded to Guliani. The flame on the torch dimmed slowly, dwindling to a small ember.

The divine body inside the coffin suddenly opened its eyes.

Guliani reported the events. The Smooth Surface's projection into the divine body shook its head: "This is not the Great Resurrection Spell."

"I felt something off too—especially that Ascetic An. His power was too pure. Not like true holy light," Guliani said, puzzled.

"Too pure? Among the gods, Judgment's power is the purest. Could it be his disciple? Time to pay him a visit."

…

In the following days, Ange traveled among refugee camps, distributing food, displaying miracles, harvesting faith, stealing believers. Wherever he went, devout followers ceased belonging to the Light Gods and instead linked to the Little Wraith.

The repetition brought Ange back to his most familiar rhythm: sow, fertilize, harvest. In the farm, he had repeated this for a thousand years. If he continued, he could harvest every believer in the entire plane.

Unfortunately, believers were finite. Days later, he reached the last refugee camp—near the southern coast of the continent. Most who escaped the Sunken Lands had been settled along the shoreline.

This camp gathered many refugees from the Sunken Lands. Having fled the Sunken Lands, they were already destitute; now, famine had stripped them bare. Seeing Ange arrive, they were overcome with emotion.

Ange distributed food as usual, displayed miracles—two types: healing and judgment. Under the Chains of Original Sin, believers' emotions were often more intense during judgment than healing.

Watching the Chains of Original Sin bind a greedy, gluttonous villain, a group of people couldn't help cheering, chanting Ange's name: "Ascetic An! Ascetic An!"

"My lord, we've captured an evil witch. Please judge her."

As they spoke, a girl with bound wrists was shoved forward.

Ange tilted his head. The girl emitted a strange aura.