Chapter 973

At night, without sunlight or light calamity, people gradually emerged from their homes, regardless of injury, gathering in the square—sent out by Teya’s governor, house by house.

Earlier that afternoon, Teya’s governor had already called for everyone to come out, claiming the light calamity had been eradicated, but no one believed it; everyone waited for others to go first. It would take days, even weeks, to dispel their fears, for the damage caused by the light calamity had been too horrific.

The light calamity wasn’t instantly fatal, but it caused skin to rot—itchy and painful. Not scratching it made it itch; scratching made it ulcerate, which made it itch more. And the ulcers couldn’t be bandaged—they stuck to the cloth, and after a while, the bandages fused to the flesh; peeling them off felt like tearing off a layer of skin.

If it were just pain and itching, that would be bad enough, but it was also ugly. The damaged areas were always exposed skin—faces, necks, hands, feet—all now ulcerated, oozing, inflamed, pus-filled, grotesque beyond words.

Some men and women who cared about their appearance wished they could leap from Zhuoshan and die rather than face others.

Only when Teya’s governor sent messengers door-to-door to announce they had found a cure, and demanded everyone gather in the square that night—no exceptions—did people reluctantly step outside.

Anthony watched the growing crowd and wiped sweat from his brow. He hadn’t cast Divine Grace in years, and even when he had, he’d never succeeded. Ha.

But this Lord Ang was too easygoing. Anthony wasn’t worried about failure—he worried he couldn’t handle Ang’s power and would humiliate himself.

Thinking of this, Anthony quickly called out to Ang: “My lord, please don’t use too much strength—just a gentle touch. We’re now a band of refugees and followers of fallen gods. If we show too much power, the Grand Councilor will suspect us. I hope to release Divine Grace over four hours.”

Ang scratched his head and reluctantly agreed: “Fine.”

Negril sneered: “Four hours? Dragging it out like that—you could cast it yourself. Why not just use Mass Healing?”

Anthony replied: “Is Divine Grace about healing? No—it’s about grace. Plant the seed of divine grace in their hearts, and they’ll become our believers. Watch me steal his people right under the Grand Councilor’s nose.”

Negril frowned: “Won’t the Grand Councilor see through this? Aren’t you afraid he’ll beat you?”

“I don’t know if he’ll notice,” Anthony said, “but I feel he doesn’t care. You wouldn’t believe how arrogant he is—‘The Filian Empire is an enemy of the Alliance, not mine.’ ‘Nothing in this void is worthy of being my enemy.’ I plan to keep testing his limits, see just how far he’ll tolerate me.”

Anthony’s methods, Negril had no intention of commenting on. The old fraud operated far more subtly than Negril ever could—interfering only invited humiliation.

Everyone had arrived at the square, shadows stretching everywhere—perhaps a hundred thousand people. The entire population of Zhuoshan had come.

The more people, the better. Once they’d felt divine power, they’d never forget divine grace—in moments of pain, exhaustion, despair, or labor, they’d recall that overwhelming moment.

Like Negril, who was so weak, yet whenever exams came, people still instinctively chanted its name—after all, what harm was there in praying?

Seeing the crowd was nearly complete, Anthony drew his staff and slammed it before him, shouting loudly: “The Radiant Lord’s glory is endless, the Lord of Life pities mortals…”

As he spoke, a divine soul slowly rose from his body, emitting a holy radiance that spread outward in all directions.

Anthony moved through the crowd, smiling warmly. Wherever he passed, the holy light illuminated the afflicted, and their wounds felt as if being soothed—the pain and itching instantly lessened.

Surprised people tore off their veils, cloaks, and garments, exposing their wounds and pressing closer to the holy light. Anthony was soon surrounded, completely blocked off.

“Kneel, faithful ones. Bared your souls—only then can the god hear your voice.” The divine soul atop Anthony surged several meters high, towering like a luminous giant, unmistakable in the crowd. His voice echoed as if whispered directly into each ear, crystal clear to all.

Under the Grand Councilor’s rule, there was no tradition of worshipping gods. Anthony’s words left the crowd confused. They hesitated, glancing at Teya’s governor.

Teya glanced at the Grand Councilor, who turned his head away, looking left and right, saying nothing.

Teya understood: neither support nor opposition. She nodded to the crowd.

One by one, people knelt, the motion spreading like ripples—soon, everyone in the square had lowered themselves.

Teya had assumed Anthony wanted them to kneel for ritual purposes—but now she noticed something else: “If everyone kneels, movement becomes harder, so there’s less crushing and trampling. Was that his intent?”

With no crushing or trampling, Anthony moved smoothly, circling the square. He ignored minor injuries; for those like Teya, whose bodies had mutated, he gently guided them aside, planning to return later with the Fist of the Goddess.

The overwhelming divine grace planted a seed of faith in these suffering, desperate souls—easy to sprout and grow. The Grand Councilor should not have supported this—but Anthony noticed he not only supported it, he seemed to welcome it.

After much thought, Anthony had a theory: “I suspect he’s doing this on purpose. Gods claim the ecological niche of spirits. If only spirits are worthy of being his enemies, then the Grand Councilor’s best move is to cultivate gods—to deprive spirits of their place. Like reversing what Ogar did.”

“Of course, that’s just my guess. Maybe the Grand Councilor truly doesn’t care. By the way, among his captured spirits, I found one that felt familiar—I think it might be Truth Cannon Walker.”

“What? Truth Cannon? Walker? Impossible! Chaos Plane is so far away—even ten Walker cannons couldn’t fly here!” Negril was startled.

Anthony said: “I only think it looks like him. It carries a large disc on its back—looks like a ring of a Starburst Array—but it’s sealed as a stone statue, so I can’t tell. Back then, the Grand Councilor was testing me, so I didn’t dare look closely. I’ll find a chance to go back—or take it.”