No Gods

The solemn and reverent atmosphere within the Stone Tower was swept away.

Like a gushing spring of blood from a severed artery, the viscous liquid engulfed everyone, a scene of bewitching crimson as far as the eye could see.

Crack!

An abrupt sound echoed, piercingly clear in the desolate silence, like a silver vase shattering.

It interrupted the devout prayers of the believers, who instinctively looked up towards the source of the sound: the massive dome at the very top of the Stone Tower!

The glass dome at the top of the Stone Tower had shattered, shards of glass raining down on the crowd below.

It was as if a giant hand had ripped open a curtain, the roaring wind surging in from above, scattering the white cloths covering their heads.

"Everyone," a familiar, gentle voice reached their ears, "Good evening."

Before the shattered glass dome, a figure stood suspended in the air, a bright, full moon behind him.

Symbiotic Tissue erupted from Yun Chuan's body, clinging to the surrounding walls like fleshy spider silk. He stood at the very center of this interwoven web, looking down upon the many believers below.

The silvery moonlight behind him illuminated the surroundings, clearly revealing the greedy and ugly faces of the believers, exposing the filth and squalor within the entire Stone Tower.

Below, on the altar.

Kousan raised his head, looking at Yun Chuan's face, but made no movement or reaction.

"Why have you come here?" After a long silence, he asked with a puzzled tone, "Have we not been hospitable enough?"

His face still wore that amiable smile, as if it were a mask permanently affixed to his face.

In his long life, his hands had been stained with too many sins, enough to warn anyone who approached him, demonstrating how fierce and terrifying this person was.

But he had cunningly donned a mask with tightly sealed edges, hiding everything about himself beneath that amiable smiling mask.

Like an anglerfish in the ocean, dangling a bright lantern to attract ignorant fry into his sharp teeth, to be swallowed into his bottomless belly.

"Hospitable? Is this your way of treating guests?"

Yahiko, deceived, had never felt so angry, staring intently at that unchanging, terrifying smile: "What do you want to do to that woman?!"

Do what?

The questioned old man seemed puzzled, looking down at the angry Yahiko in the distance, frowning: "We are sacrificing to our 'Lord', welcoming the birth of the 'Divine Child'."

As his voice fell, the believers raised their heads, looking at the woman on the altar with piety and fervor, greedily and pitifully gazing at her swollen abdomen, their prayers seeming to express their longing.

They hoped for the birth of the Divine Child, to cook and divide it with fierce fire, to be with their "Lord"!

The Divine Child is "immortal," and they too can be "immortal"!

"Praise our Lord!"

Listening to the fanatical and frenzied chanting around him, Yahiko felt like he was about to explode with anger, his throat burning from the heat in his chest.

"Praise our Lord! The Lord is with m..."

Kousan was about to speak, but suddenly stopped.

Because a nearly transparent line had appeared on the side of his face, his skin slowly splitting open to reveal the bright red flesh beneath, fresh blood sliding down from the wound, soaking his face.

And on the wall behind him, a crimson spike was deeply embedded, shattering the hard brick and scattering white ash.

"..."

Kousan's smile became somewhat stiff, and the prayer in his mouth was never uttered.

He simply raised the thumb of his right hand, gently running his knuckle across the wound, wiping it on his lips, a look of infatuated recollection flashing in his eyes.

And that bloodstain healed and recovered completely in a matter of seconds, visible to the naked eye.

"Yahiko."

Without even looking at him, Yun Chuan looked down at the angry Yahiko, his tone meaningful: "I'll give you three seconds."

With that, he held up three fingers and said softly, "3."

Only three seconds.

Hearing this, Yahiko took a deep breath.

He knew very well that these three seconds were only for him.

"Can't you see it?"

Yahiko grabbed the nearest believer next to him, shaking her shoulders violently and shouting, "He's a liar! He's lying to you! There's no such thing as a god in this world!"

If there were a "god" in this world, how could his father, who had been kind his entire life, have been ruthlessly harmed, leaving only a cold tombstone?

If there were a "god" in this world, why was his crying prayer to the gods not to take his mother's weak life unanswered?

If there were a "god" in this world, wouldn't it have shown some compassion while listening to the wails and cries that constantly entered its ears amidst the flames of war?

No! There is no god!

From the highest point, Yun Chuan shook his head, retracted one finger, and said softly, "2."

"Why do you plunder life?" Yahiko looked at them, whispering weakly, "Why do you trample on life?"

"Because it is the 'Lord's' divine decree!"

The old woman beside Kousan raised her hands, turned around, and looked up at the Evil God Stone Tower, her expression and tone utterly deranged: "Trample life! Plunder life! Please our Lord! Bestow upon us abundant grace!"

"Offer them, to the Lord!"

Her voice ascended from a low murmur to a soaring pitch.

The chilling coldness overhead was enough to stimulate the survival instincts of humans, and the nerves of many believers were twitching madly, sending signals to their brains to flee.

But strangely, they did not escape.

They even erupted with unparalleled cohesion and something akin to faith, chanting swaying hymns as they slowly surrounded Yahiko and Nagato.

"Death, is rebirth!"

"The Lord grants us, abundant grace! Death, is rebirth!"

If this were in the stories of legendary murals and texts, this scene would be the pilgrims offering sacrifices to the gods.

Seeing all this bizarre and grotesque unfold before his eyes, Yahiko felt as cold as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.

The anger in his chest was gradually covered by the coldness, spreading to his skin, jaw, and ears, the chilling sensation continuing to spread throughout his body.

Pleasing? Pleasing the gods?

Where exactly is the pleasure? Where exactly is the fun?

"You guys..."

Yahiko slowly closed his eyes, muttering painfully, "What exactly do you think life is?"

These guys in front of him had been completely brainwashed. Perhaps each of them had their own pain and regret, so they could only place their hopes on the so-called "god."

Inflicting their own misfortune on others.

Drip.

A drop of scarlet blood fell from the top of the tower, splashing on the ground, clear, piercing, and interrupting the fanatical chanting.

Then, a torrential rain poured down, and a noisy sound of rain appeared inside the tower, washing over the eyelids of every believer.

They subconsciously twitched their noses, smelling the endless stench of blood swirling in the rain.

That wasn't torrential rain at all; it was crimson blood!

Many believers subconsciously looked up, only to see many twisted black shadows falling down.

Bang!!

First, an old man's torso, missing its limbs and head, smashed onto the altar, denting the skulls.

The twisted appearance was as if it had been torn apart by brute force, and rotten flesh burst out from the twisted and rotating bones at the severed ends.

Then, illuminated by the faint light of the moon above.

All they could see was the old man's head, still bearing a fanatical expression, and the severed limbs and broken arms pouring down like sand.

If Yahiko opened his eyes, he would be able to recognize that, not long ago, this face still wore a gentle and kind smile, looking at him as if he were his own child.

Everyone could smell the ferocity of the flesh above, the terrifying, suffocating horror clearly plastered on their faces, enough to make people tremble and clench their teeth in terror and flee.

But no one present chose to escape, and the sound of prayer became even more pious.

Death is not terrible, death is rebirth.

"The time has come." That indifferent voice was like the death knell of a grim reaper.

Yun Chuan looked down at Yahiko and the believers below, a blood-red mist shrouded him, condensing into a scarlet mask on his face, and more spiky scarlet tentacles stretched out from behind.

The next moment, countless sharp and piercing bursts of sound rang out inside the tower.