Chapter 534: Executing the Will

Divine Jesus's gaze fell on Hong Yu, who was kneeling on the ground.

That gaze was indifferent, without warmth, like looking at a handy tool, and also like looking at a qualified one.

Perhaps it could be called the existence of a 'believer'.

As he had said before, Hong Yu was his most faithful believer.

This evaluation was sincere.

Hong Yu's loyalty did not lie in whether his heart was soft, nor in whether he harbored compassion.

But lay in his actions—he completely obeyed the rules set down by Divine Jesus.

Every word, every sentence, never overstepped.

Even if he was proud as a lion in his bones, indifferent to human life as to weeds.

But this was not a problem.

Because Divine Jesus himself was inherently shallow in humanity.

If it weren't for Yu Lin intervening, stuffing the cluster named 'hope' as a spark into his chest, giving him more humanity, the world's population would likely have decreased by an unknown amount.

He did not need a Hong Yu who harbored compassion.

He needed an obedient, useful Hong Yu.

【15) Moreover…

Moreover…

Divine Jesus's thoughts drifted slightly for a moment.

If Hong Yu were to develop any hostility toward Yu Lin, it might bring him some amusement, right?

Although he clearly knew that Hong Yu's hostility toward Yu Lin was like an ant trying to trip an elephant—utterly useless.

But he thought Yu Lin would probably find it interesting, giving something to do to pass the boring days.

That was enough.

His gaze withdrew, falling on Hong Yu kneeling on the ground, and he spoke lightly.

"The scripture will tell you."

That voice was calm, without any fluctuation.

"Hong Yu, don't let me down."

"Go ahead. Carry out my will."

His words fell.

Divine Jesus's silhouette, like melting snow, slowly dissipated into the air.

The statue returned to its original appearance.

Its face blurred, silent and soundless, merely standing there quietly, as if it had never moved.

A scripture descended from the heavens.

Black cover, no title, no author, only some fine, seemingly alive patterns slowly flowing across the cover.

It landed before Hong Yu, lightly touching the ground.

Hong Yu raised his head.

He looked at the scripture, at those flowing patterns, and a flicker passed in his eyes—unknown whether it was reverence, excitement, or anger.

He reached out his hand.

The moment his fingertip touched the cover, those patterns lit up briefly as if activated, then quickly faded.

He picked up the scripture.

He stood up.

He turned around.

He faced those believers still standing where they were, with varied expressions and complex gazes.

No one spoke; everyone looked at him, at the scripture.

Hong Yu opened the scripture.

He turned to the first page.

Blank.

He turned to the second page.

Blank.

He turned to the third page.

Still blank.

Hong Yu did not panic.

He knew the scripture was not to be read with the eyes, so he closed his eyes.

After a moment, he reopened his eyes.

His gaze fell on a certain spot in the crowd.

"John Smith."

He spoke a name.

His voice was calm, yet like a boulder dropped into a still lake.

In the crowd, a blond‑blue‑eyed middle‑aged man suddenly lifted his head, a flash of fear crossing his face.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, wanting to explain something—

"No! Not me! I didn't—"

Hong Yu paid no heed to his explanation.

He continued to recite.

Peter Murphy.

Another name.

Thomas Ellis.

William Carter.

Li Ke.

Chen Yuan'an.

……

One after another, names were spoken from Hong Yu's mouth, like one judgment after another, falling upon those people's heads.

Those whose names were called, their faces turned deathly pale one by one.

Some began to tremble, some tried to shrink into the crowd, some opened their mouths wanting to cry injustice, but could not make any sound.

Those who had not been called by name unconsciously stepped back, distancing themselves from them.

The originally crowded crowd quickly split into two groups—one group consisted of those who had been named, standing isolated and helpless in the middle; the other side were the others, standing far away, surrounding them, with complex expressions.

Hong Yu finished speaking the last name.

He closed the scripture.

He raised his head.

His gaze fell upon the group of those who had been named.

Among them, someone finally broke down.

No——!

A middle-aged man lunged forward, throwing himself at Hong Yu.

He had a gun in his hand at some point.

It looked like a specially made silver handgun engraved with exorcism runes.

It was originally meant to be used against demons.

I don't want to die! So............

Go die!

His finger was on the trigger, the gun muzzle aimed at Hong Yu.

The next second——

Whoosh!

Behind Hong Yu, four wings suddenly unfurled!

They were not the pure white, soft wings of angels that symbolize holiness.

The wings bore specks of black, yet their edges flowed with a faint silver light.

Each feather seemed forged from the sharpest blade, reflecting a cold gleam in the sunlight.

The four wings slightly flapped, stirring up a gale.

The gun-wielding man was blown by the gale unable to open his eyes, staggering backward, his handgun not yet having time to pull the trigger——

A flash of silver light passed.

The man's body stiffened.

He lowered his head, seeing his chest pierced by a feather at some point.

That feather pierced from his back, exited through his front chest, pinning him entirely to the ground.

Blood spread from beneath him, dyeing that desolate land red.

His lips moved a few times, but he could not make any sound.

Then he died.

The group of those who had been named, at the moment the first companion's chest was pierced by a feather, finally realized——what awaited them was not judgment, not a chance to defend themselves, but pure, utter death!

Fear at that moment turned into madness.

He won't give us a way to live!

A burly man with a full beard roared, his eyes bloodshot, like a beast forced into a desperate situation:

Fight him! Fighting still offers a sliver of hope!

This roar was like igniting a powder keg.

Those people no longer retreated, no longer begged for mercy. Begging was useless, retreat meant death, leaving only one path——

Resistance.

The first person moved.

He was a black man, slender in build, yet his movements were as swift as a gust of wind.

He pulled out a stone tablet from his bosom, the tablet covered in densely packed runes, each rune flaring a blinding red light the moment it left his palm.

In the Name of Isaac Lafu——

He threw the stone tablet into the air.

The stone tablet exploded, transforming into countless red light blades, like a torrential downpour pouring down upon Hong Yu.

Where those light blades passed, the air was torn apart, emitting a sharp whine!

Hong Yu raised his head.

The four wings slightly flapped.

He did not dodge.

Those light blades fell upon his body, upon his wings——

Then, like a mud cow entering the sea, they vanished without a trace.

The black man was stunned.

"How could this be..."

Before his words finished, a flash of silver light streaked by.

A feather pierced his throat, forever choking the latter half of his sentence in his throat.

His corpse fell to the ground, his eyes still wide open, full of disbelief.

The second person acted.

It was an elder, who immediately took off a tattered Daoist robe.

It looked like an antiquity salvaged from a decayed Daoist temple in the East.

Then he drew a stack of Talisman Paper from his sleeve, each sheet etched with intricate patterns in cinnabar.

He bit his tongue tip, spitting a mouthful of fresh blood onto the stack of Talisman Paper.

The Talisman Paper ignited instantly, transforming into a fire dragon that lunged at Hong Yu with bared teeth and claws.

The fire dragon was entirely crimson‑gold, its Scale distinct, spewing flames from its mouth hot enough to melt steel!

With one bite, the fire dragon devoured Hong Yu!

A hint of joy appeared on the elder's face—then that joy solidified!

The flames dissipated.

Hong Yu stood where he was, completely unharmed.

He didn't even move a muscle.

Not a single feather on his four wings was singed!

"Useless move."

Hong Yu looked at him, his eyes devoid of any emotion.

A feather flew out.

When he fell, his eyes still stared at the vanished fire dragon, as if asking: why was it useless?

The third, the fourth, the fifth...

They all acted together.

Someone produced a Holy Relic; those Holy Relics, consecrated by successive popes and worshipped by countless believers, burst into dazzling light at this moment, turning into golden beams that hurled toward Hong Yu.

Someone chanted a spell, an ancient, long‑lost incantation unearthed from the depths of Hell.

Someone summoned divine weapons: the sword said to have slain a giant dragon, the spear rumored to be an angel's fallen relic, and the chains claimed to imprison deities.

Rune, Magic, spell, Holy Relic, divine weapons...

Counterattacks from different lineages, systems, and powers poured toward Hong Yu all at once!

The light was blinding, the sound thundered.

In that instant, it seemed the whole world was besieging him.

Then—

Everything stopped.

It wasn't Hong Yu who died.

It was those attacks that halted within a meter of Hong Yu!

The light pillars solidified midair, the evil spirit froze in a snarling pose, the tip of the SilverSword hovered three inches above Hong Yu's brow, a bullet suspended as if the pause button had been pressed!

Hong Yu stood at the center of all those attacks.

Those lights intertwined, forming an invisible barrier around him.

He gently fluttered his wings once.

That movement was very light.

Light enough as if shooing away an annoying fly.

But that gentle swing—

All the attacks frozen in midair instantly recoiled!

Fresh blood splattered.

It stained the barren ground crimson.

Screams of agony, pleas for mercy, curses before death, merged into one.

Then, they gradually subsided.

When the last person fell, when the final scream vanished into the wind, Hong Yu halted.

He stood in the pool of blood.

His four wings slowly folded behind him, reattaching to his back.

On his clothes, his face, his wings—no drop of blood stained them.

He lowered his head, glancing at the tangled corpses beneath his feet.

Those who minutes ago had desperately resisted with Rune, Magic, and divine weapons were now just a heap of cold, lifeless flesh!!

There was no ripple in Hong Yu's eyes.

He turned around.

The unnamed believers remained where they stood.

Hong Yu ignored them.

He stepped forward, walking toward the statue that had regained its silence.

He arrived before the statue.

He knelt on one knee.

They lowered their head.

The four wings behind them, folded gently, remained motionless.

He just knelt like that.

Like the most loyal servant, waiting before the master.

"Carry out the Lord's will."

Yet there was not a trace.

A figure stood in midair, watching the scene below, and gave a slight nod:

"Then let you live a little longer."