Chapter 516: Siege of the Gospel Church

The sky before dawn was a dark red that seemed soaked in blood yet could not be squeezed dry.

No one spoke inside the armored vehicle.

The engine growled low as it rolled over the rubble's stones, the hull shaking. Jiang Yuan leaned against the metal wall, and the specially made Card Bag at his waist lightly knocked against his thigh with each jolt.

Su Ming sat beside him, half his face still wrapped in bandages, the exposed right eye fixed on the spotlights atop the cabin, unmoving.

A holographic projection glowed in the center of the carriage.

The temporary North American delegate looked pale. The man, named Carter, was bald, his suit collar darkened by a ring of sweat. He stared at the endless steel line outside, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"Director Wei, are you trying to empty all your assets?"

His voice was pressed low, yet in the sealed cabin it reached each person's ears clearly.

"With so many rogue forces pressing the front line, what about the rear? If Sai Men pulls a feint, our shelter won't even have a gatekeeper."

Bu Lie Dian's red‑haired representative also frowned, forgetting to draw on his e‑cigarette.

"He makes a point. Putting all the eggs in one basket—that's a classic military taboo, isn't it?"

Several gazes swept across the cabin, landing on Lord Wei's projection.

The elder remained silent, sitting upright, holding a cup of tea that had long gone cold, his eyelids never lifting.

The atmosphere was a bit tense.

At that moment, Su Ming suddenly spoke.

"Lord Wei has had a backup all along."

The four words were flat, without any inflection, as if commenting on pleasant weather.

Carter blinked, "Backup? What backup? Which unit? Where are they stationed?"

Su Ming did not turn to look at him.

Du Yan's single eye still stared at the cabin ceiling.

"You'll know when the time comes."

Just that sentence.

Somehow, the whole cabin fell silent. Carter opened his mouth to follow up, but the words vanished before he could speak.

Within that calm lay something indescribable, as if the chessboard had already been set and Lord Wei knew exactly where each piece lay.

The red‑haired representative clicked his tongue, shoved the e‑cigarette back into his pocket, and muttered, "You Easterners... always speak in half sentences."

No one replied.

Su Zhu turned his head and glanced at Jiang Yuan beside him.

The kid hadn't spoken a word since boarding. He was so quiet it seemed he had gathered all his strength inside, waiting for a crack to unleash it all at once.

Su Ming withdrew his gaze, and the feeling in his heart sank slowly.

He knew better than anyone how ruthless Lord Wei's move was.

On the surface it was the "Clean World Accord": a global alliance sweeping against the Gospel Church. In secret, however, it was a trap to draw the snake out. The Core layer had penetrated the filth; conventional methods couldn't extract it, so they opted for a massive external war that no one could evade, forcing everyone onto the stage.

Whoever meddles will show their tracks in this battle.

Open scheme.

It's laid out plainly, yet you still have to dig in.

"Two kilometers ahead."

A report crackled from the cockpit, interrupting Su Ming's thoughts.

"Target: Gospel Church Core gathering district."

"Driving them out of the city and then locating their secret base isn't easy."

Carter's fingers unconsciously fidgeted with the seat armrest.

Outside the window, the dark‑red Blood Mist thickened. The ruins' outlines flickered in the fog—broken walls, charred Electric Wires poles leaning by the road.

The further forward, the stronger the odor surged.

It was a fishy stench.

As if the blood of the entire city had been poured into the Sewer and left to sit for days.

"Slow down."

Lord Wei finally spoke.

In the projection, he set down his cup; the bottom clinked against the table with a soft sound.

"We've arrived."

The words fell—

From deep within the Blood Mist came a rush of footsteps.

At first they were light, like distant rain.

Then they grew denser, faster, finally merging into a wave that pressed from the horizon like a tide.

Carter shuffled to the window edge, squinting outward.

The next second, his whole body jolted; the back of his head slammed into the cabin ceiling, pain making him grit his teeth, unable to shout.

"W-what is that—"

The Blood Mist was torn open.

Tens of thousands of silhouettes surged out.

Their rags hung on them, bare feet treading broken glass without flinching, and every pair of eyes burned with the same thing—

Crimson.

It wasn't a human gaze. Pupils swelled, glowing red as if something burned inside. They grinned, jagged teeth exposed, emitting a muddled, discordant hum.

An endless, black‑pressed mass, with no end in sight.

"Believers…" the red‑haired representative shouted, "There must be tens of thousands of them, damn it?"

"Never mind the number." Wei Gong's projection said coldly, "Open fire."

The moment the order was given, the entire steel column line moved.

The gun barrels all turned.

Flames lit up the sky above the ruins, and the blast wave overturned the stones by the road. The believers at the front who charged were blown away, their severed limbs mixing with Blood Mist into a churned mass.

But more kept surging from behind.

Stomping on comrades' corpses, eyes blood‑red with frenzy, the humming from his mouth never ceased.

The Deceivers also moved.

Someone flung a black chain, pulling back swaths of believers; another had a semi‑transparent ghostly silhouette rise behind, a claw swipe raising a spray of blood.

But that tide was too dense.

No matter how much poured in, it was like throwing it into the sea—no splash could be seen.

Carter's face turned pale: "We can't fight like this! They don't care about their lives!"

He was right.

These "blessed" believers could no longer tell life from death. Bullets pierced their bodies yet they kept charging; even without arms they lunged to bite. A pure flesh tsunami, intent on shattering the formation with human lives.

The front line began to retreat.

At that moment, Jiang Yuan stood up.

He flexed his wrist, and for the first time something else sank into those clean eyes.

"I'll go."

Two words.

Su Ming glanced at him and didn't stop him.

Jiang Yuan raised his hand and shoved open the armored vehicle's roof hatch.

The scent of blood wrapped in heat surged in, yet his brows didn't twitch as he leapt out.

He was still mid‑air.

His eyes, from sclera to pupil, were devoured inch by inch by utter darkness. In the end, each socket held only two bottomless black wells.

The instant he hit the ground, the ruins beneath his feet turned ink‑black.

It was as if someone had tipped over a whole vat of ink, it seeped through the cracks in the ground and spread in an instant. The ink was so deep it made one's feet feel cold just by looking.

The believers at the front had already lunged forward.

Dozens of Bloody Maw, dozens of scarlet eyes.

Jiang Yuan stood in the ink's center and raised his hand.

"Dark Shadow Court."

His voice was low, yet it drowned out the humming.

"Domain activated."

The next instant.

From that ink‑colored Abyss, something erupted.

Countless black Poker Cards surged up from the ground like a rainstorm falling upward. They traced Weird arcs in the air, edges flashing metallic cold light, moving so fast they left after‑images.

The front‑line believers hadn't reacted yet.

Those cards had already pierced through.

Not through the bodies.

But tore the bodies into fragments.

The hundreds of believers at the front were instantly divided and shredded; Blood Mist spewed out then was scattered by the following cards. That scarlet tide was ripped open with a gash.

The card formation kept expanding.

One circle, then another. Jiang Yuan stood in the center, his black‑well eyes sweeping coldly around; wherever they fell, the believers there collapsed in groups.

A short ten‑plus seconds.

Within a hundred‑meter radius beneath his feet, a void of emptiness was cleared.

The tide receded.

Those red‑eyed believers seemed to finally feel pain, instinctively shrinking back, unwilling to charge forward.

The front line steadied.

Inside the vehicle, Carter's mouth hung open, not closing for a long while.

"This… this person…"

The red‑haired representative muttered a line, forgetting even the profanity.

Su Ming stuck half his body out of the hatch opening, watching the figure surrounded by black cards; a flash of indefinable emotion passed through his single eye.

"Did you see it?" he whispered, as if to himself, "That's Wei Gong's confidence."

On the allied side, morale surged instantly.

The Deceivers pressed forward again, using the cleared space Jiang Yuan created to advance toward the stronghold's interior.

Artillery fire re‑concentrated, driving the retreating believers back.

It seemed they were about to charge forward triumphantly.

At that critical moment—

From the dense, unmeltable Blood Mist ahead came a crisp sound.

Thud.

Clear, ethereal, neither large nor small, yet inexplicably it pierced all the artillery and roars, drilling into each person's ear.

It seemed as if someone, holding something, gently tapped the table surface from far away.

Jiang Yuan's steps halted.

Su Ming's complexion changed.

That sound... Gavel.

Thud.

A second sound.

Deep within the Blood Mist no figure could be seen, yet the tapping sounded one after another, unhurried, bearing a solemn yet Weird rhythm.

Then, something strange happened.

The believers in the front rows who had just been driven back began to change.

First their bellies.

Then their limbs, then their faces.

Their whole bodies, like rubber balls forcefully inflated from within, swelled little by little. Their skin stretched to translucence, the veins beneath bulging into a bluish‑purple line.

Those scarlet eyes widened, and the madness within them somehow revealed a hint of bewilderment, a hint of... release.

Thud.

Another Gavel.

The swelling believers multiplied: front row, second row, third row... one after another, spreading backward like an infection.

Su Zhu's throat tightened, and he roared outward:

"Jiang Yuan! Fall back—"

But that voice was drowned by another crisp Gavel.

Thud— as that strike fell, the most swollen believer in the front row suddenly stopped moving.

It didn't move.

Its whole body swelled into almost a sphere, the skin so translucent one could see the compressed, deformed organs beneath, the eyes bulging out of the sockets, �

The humming inside was also stuck in its throat.

Dead‑like silence.

A chill shot up Su Zhu's back instantly.

Having dealt with this for so many years, he knew all too well what this omen meant—

It wasn't a halt.

It was about to explode.

"All personnel retreat!" he shouted as if his throat would burst, "Quick—"

Deep within the Blood Mist, that Gavel struck again.

Thud.

The final sound.

That sphere‑like believer, together with the hundreds of its kind behind it swollen with air, burst from within at the same instant.