The ground began to tremble faintly. One heavy truck after another, along with tanks and armored vehicles, appeared in sight like a river of steel.
Two armored divisions, 21,456 men, and 200 Royal Air Force fighter planes.
They included 317 tanks, more than a hundred heavy guns, over four hundred artillery pieces, and a combined total of more than two thousand cars and carriages.
That was the military force Wu Heng had mobilized over the past three days. They had all arrived at the banks of the Ganges River.
"Reporting to the commander-in-chief: all personnel have assembled. Awaiting orders."
"Aim at the target area and stand by."
As soon as he finished speaking, fighter planes swept across the sky, their engines roaring.
The 'Hastur' Nest was slowly dragged into view beside the Ganges River by giant trucks.
A clearing of about 2,500 square meters had been prepared by the riverbank and paved with wooden planks to form an altar. Four hundred and seventeen shrines stood upon it.
Four hundred and seventeen priestesses of the Goddess, dressed in splendid robes, each took her place. They were all the priestesses of the Goddess who could be found in the west.
The priestesses began their preparations: lighting incense, cleansing themselves, and calming their minds.
An attendant beside one of the shrine's wooden poles rang the bronze bell hanging from a wooden frame. Its clear, crisp chime rang out, and the ceremony began.
Led by the high priestess, the priestesses faced the Ganges River and stood solemnly. With the utmost reverence, they raised vessels filled with water from the river and bowed in worship.
After the bowing ceremony, the priestesses returned to their respective shrines. Accompanied by the bronze bell, they chanted and burned incense.
Cobra torches, chicken feet, bronze bells, ritual lamps, peacock feathers, yak tails, and numerous other offerings were brought out in turn, waved in an orderly manner toward the southeast, northeast, southwest, and northwest.
After each ritual object had been waved, holy water and flowers were scattered into the Ganges River.
The two thousand worshippers of the Goddess around the altar pierced their tongues, cheeks, or arms with silver needles. They ran iron hooks through the flesh of their backs and walked barefoot across burning coals.
They showed their faith in the gods this way, measuring their devotion by the pain they endured and the blood they shed.
Wu Heng had no idea whether their god would like it, but the Cenobites certainly would.
They circled the altar, displaying their faith to everyone in hopes of receiving the gods' blessings.
When the ceremony reached its most solemn moment, all the priestesses rose together, lifted their arms toward the Ganges, and cried out in ancient Indian.
The high priestess glanced at Wu Heng, and he understood.
"Bring up the offering!" Wu Heng beckoned toward the trucks.
With four bulldozers slowly pushing it forward, the 'Hastur' Nest sank entirely into the Ganges River.
Seeing the offering pushed into the river, the priestesses chanted even louder.
Wu Heng had concealed part of the truth from them. He had only told them it was an offering, not what it actually was.
The priestesses assumed it was a giant flatbread. They thought Wu Heng must be a devout worshipper to prepare such a generous offering.
At that moment, all the soldiers received their orders and began shouting loudly.
"Hastur is coming! Hastur is coming! Hastur is coming!"
Their shouts echoed along the Ganges River.
When the priestesses heard the name, their faces changed drastically. Their chanting stopped, and they stared at Wu Heng in terror. Some had already begun fleeing.
Bang! Bang! Two fleeing priestesses fell to the ground.
"Keep chanting!"
The soldiers watching them from the armored vehicles pointed their guns at them and spoke coldly.
The chanting started again, but the voices were much weaker and lower.
The flour coating the surface of the Nest began to wash away in the river, revealing its crimson skin. The red grew more and more vivid, as if it were about to drip blood.
The shriveled Nest slowly swelled, becoming round and taut.
Countless roars came from within. Its skin rippled and bulged incessantly, like a spider's egg about to hatch and release a horde of tiny spiders.
Even the ever-flowing Ganges seemed to change.
The river gradually grew silent, yet its waters grew more turbulent, filled with a disquieting sense of contradiction.
Savage auras seemed to surge from every direction, tracing the river back to this place and making the ordinary people's hair stand on end!
Everyone present seemed to sense the change in the atmosphere. The soldiers focused their attention, arms tense, ready to press the firing buttons at any moment.
"It's coming!" someone cried.
Splash!
Water sprayed everywhere as a figure burst from the riverbed and lunged straight at the 'Hastur' Nest.
It had a human-like shape and a powerful build, standing over four meters tall. Its head resembled a withered toad, red lava flowed inside its belly, and flames flickered from its purple maw.
"The Son of God!"
"It's Juchikanaan! The Son of God, Juchikanaan!"
The priestesses cried out in shock. Their voices rang with fervor as they dropped to their knees in unison.
The soldiers held their breath and waited silently for Wu Heng to give the order to attack.
Wu Heng was standing atop an armored vehicle beside a helicopter. Its rotor was turning, and at the first sign of trouble, he would rush over and take off.
Juchikanaan paid no attention to the people present. With its clawed hands, as broad as fans, it tore at the Goddess Womb.
"Hastur!"
Juchikanaan let out a low, strange growl, its intonation somewhat like a diminutive form of Hastur.
Flesh flew and sinews snapped. The indestructible Goddess Womb was soon ripped open, leaving a bloody hole. The power of a kindred being really could destroy the Goddess Womb.
Countless Hasturs poured out like tiny spiders hatching from an egg, madly swarming toward Juchikanaan.
Juchikanaan's belly swelled. Its purple maw snapped open, and a blaze of fire burned a horde of Hasturs to ash.
But more Hasturs kept pouring out without end, trying to bite Juchikanaan and pass the rotting curse on to him.
Even as Juchikanaan spewed scorching flames, its claws kept tearing at the Nest, widening the opening.
Pfft—whoosh!
Just then, a figure pierced through the Goddess Womb from below, bursting out through the hole at the top amid the fragments of Hastur's remains, then shooting high into the air.
Another Son of God had arrived.
It stood over three meters tall, with a gaunt, blue-skinned body like a featherless hatchling. Its hands and feet were like blades.
"God!"
The priestesses dropped to their knees and cried out, tears of joy streaming down their faces.
"Our god has returned!"
"It's Zhenluomensa! The Ninth Son of God."
"Zhenluomensa, please forgive my offense!"
"This is a divine war! My God, it's all your worshippers' fault! I am guilty! I am guilty!"
The priestesses had gone completely mad. Some even kowtowed toward the Nest, crawling forward on their knees in worship.
This time, the soldiers did not stop them. Everyone was gripping their guns, waiting for the commander-in-chief's orders. Only steel and firepower could make them feel safe.
"Commander-in-chief!"
The four staff officers beside him exchanged glances, then called out together.
"Not yet. The time hasn't come."
Wu Heng's calmness eased their nerves a little. They had taken part in a hundred or so wars, large and small, but this was their first war against nonhuman creatures.
Zhenluomensa and Juchikanaan began working together. Juchikanaan held back the countless Hasturs while Zhenluomensa spun like a top, tearing the Hastur Nest apart in a frenzy.
Something stirred again on the distant surface of the lake. The water surged into a five-meter-high wave, as if a pod of whales were pushing it from behind.
The towering wave crashed into the Hastur Nest, and nine more monsters appeared. Each bore some bizarre deformity: a snake's head, a rotting face, two heads, or multiple limbs. It was like a freak show.
The Hastur Nest was torn apart in an instant, half of it ripped away. No more Hasturs emerged, but the lone one left behind was rapidly growing larger.
Three meters, five meters, seven meters, ten meters!
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