Listening to the Steel Gospel

Now!

Wu Heng's eyes sharpened. He raised his right hand slightly, and the entire army's gaze locked onto it.

Swish! Wu Heng whipped his right hand forward!

"Fire!"

The two words spilled coldly from his lips.

"Rat-tat-tat!"

"Boom! Rumble!"

In an instant, the roar of artillery fire tore through the sky, growing ever more intense. The thunderous sound seemed to shred the very air, leaving the many priests gasping for breath.

"Oh, God!"

They wailed as they charged toward the soldiers, only to be mowed down by machine-gun fire.

"Fighting for God, I shall be reborn in the Kingdom of God!"

The chief priest spat blood, lying on the ground as he uttered his final words.

A powerful shockwave rippled outward, tearing through the Ganges River and exposing its bed.

A shrill, nauseating screech erupted from Hastur's nest, only to be buried an instant later by scorching flames.

Aircraft rumbled overhead, spraying the ground with bombs. Accompanied by blinding flashes, a continuous barrage of high explosives and incendiary bombs plowed the earth over and over again.

The Tower Mark transmitted a series of messages to Wu Heng:

[Plot Mission 2 Complete: Kill the Son of God. Reward: 3000 Survival Points. Exploration and Plot Rating increased.]

[All plot missions complete. You may choose to return early.]

[Extra kill: Son of God. Reward: 3000 Survival Points.]

[Extra kill: Son of God. Reward: 3000 Survival Points.]

A string of notifications flooded Wu Heng's mind.

Roar! A twenty-meter-tall charred figure, wreathed in flames, rose from the Ganges River, shrieking as it lunged toward the army.

This was Hastur. Having severed its connection to the nest, it had lost its ability to regenerate, but its strength was now fully unleashed. It was worthy of the title Eldest Son of God.

Yet, faced with the dense ranks of the army along the banks, it didn't even know which direction to charge first.

Another wave of aircraft roared in, bombing it back into the mud.

Wu Heng felt the Tower Mark's prompt and finally relaxed. These Sons of God truly lacked the ability to resurrect; they could be killed.

He stood quietly on the roof of his vehicle, admiring the fireworks.

Hastur, listen to this gospel of steel!

The artillery fire continued without pause for a full half-hour until Wu Heng's Tower Mark finally transmitted one last message.

[Extra kill: Son of God. Reward: 3000 Survival Points.]

Realizing Hastur was thoroughly dead, Wu Heng ordered the attack to cease.

The gunfire stopped, but the thick smoke of battle lingered, as if reluctant to dissipate.

Wu Heng walked to the edge of the Ganges. The entire riverbed was a ruin, the ground filled with black, muddy sludge.

He reached into the filthy water and activated his Siphon ability. Streams of icy energy flowed from the ground into his body, and the black water beneath his hand actually cleared slightly.

Wu Heng accelerated his absorption of the remaining black water, which was laced with the blood of the Son of God. It felt like stepping into an air-conditioned room on a sweltering summer day after eating ten popsicles—utterly refreshing.

His spirit was fortified; he could even close his eyes and observe his surroundings.

He also felt a newfound control over his own emotions, capable of tempering his joys and sorrows.

He clenched his fist, feeling his physical constitution increase by more than half.

The most obvious change was that his skin had become incredibly resilient. Even if a bullet struck him now, it would likely only graze the surface rather than punching a hole through him as it once would have.

Wu Heng pulled out the Goddess Money Pouch and used his newly strengthened perception to probe inside.

This time, he easily broke through the ripples beneath the gold coin space and entered the deeper layer of the pouch.

The space was pitch black, seemingly absorbing some form of energy from the air outside. He had been wrong; the gold coins weren't derived from this inner space, but from the layer of ripples.

That wasn't the point, though. The point was that this deep space was vast—truly massive. It was roughly 1,000,000 cubic meters, meaning it measured one hundred meters in length, width, and height.

A strong adult human body contains about five liters of blood, and one cubic meter can hold one thousand liters. That meant this million-cubic-meter space would require two hundred million strong adults to fill.

The moment his consciousness entered, he felt the pouch acknowledge him as its master. Unless he died, only he could open this deep space.

However, the information the pouch provided also left Wu Heng slightly disappointed. The space was vast, but the opening was only about a meter wide; he couldn't fit anything too large inside.

Otherwise, he would have loved to store a black box remote control in there.

Still, Wu Heng was satisfied. He decided to rename the Goddess Money Pouch: the Life Box.

If he filled the Life Box with blood, he could mimic the River Styx from the myths of his past life and declare:

So long as the Life Box does not run dry, Wu Heng shall never die!

Wu Heng looked up at the surrounding wreckage, a piece of withered bone dissipating into nothingness. Feeling the Goddess Money Pouch—his Life Box—in his hand, a surge of heroic spirit rose within him:

The Goddess's wealth, and even the life of the God of Greed, are mine.

I am the true embodiment of greed!

The only pity was that too few Sons of God had arrived; only eleven of them.

With the firepower of two armored divisions serving them, 160 million Sons of God couldn't even scrape together a single company. It was clear just how much inflation there was in that figure of 160 million.

Wu Heng turned to order the withdrawal. After such an intense battle, Hastur was dead again.

Even if other Sons of God were to awaken, they likely wouldn't dare to come here anymore. Waiting any longer would be a waste of effort.

"You sinner, you devil!"

"You shall fall into hell and suffer the torment of hellfire for eternity!"

"God will not forgive you!"

A priest, his abdomen riddled with bullets and clinging to his final breaths, glared at Wu Heng with venomous eyes, gritting his teeth.

"Hellfire?"

"Your imagination is far too limited!"

Wu Heng cast a faint, indifferent glance at the priest.

"Look back."

"Your god is already bleeding all over the ground!"

The wounded priest froze upon hearing these words.

He spat out a mouthful of blood and crawled with great difficulty toward the direction where the god had fallen. Reaching a dark, stained puddle, he kissed the mud and closed his eyes.

"Oh, God—!"

With one final, sorrowful cry, he chose to perish alongside his deity.

Naturally, not all of these priests were so devout.

About half of them, upon discovering the army's blasphemy, had charged at the troops. In times of war, no one felt pity.

As for the other half who fled, aside from a few grazed by stray bullets, they were all alive and well.

To entice them to preside over the ritual, Wu Heng had given each of them ten gold coins. In a place like Pune, that was enough to live in comfort and plenty for three years.

Wu Heng looked at the now-calm Ganges River, feeling a twinge of regret for the blood washed away by the current. His range for Siphoning was limited; he had to make physical contact.

To attract the slumbering Sons of God, he had allowed the current to carry the scent of the nest downstream, not daring to dam the river.

After a moment's thought, Wu Heng decided to take a boat to the next stretch of the Ganges to see if he could block the flow and Siphon as much as possible.

He didn't like wasting things; he was the type to finish every last grain of rice in his bowl.

Besides, with his fail-safe method of teleporting away at any time, it didn't matter if he encountered an awakened Son of God.

Just then, a white straight-wing aircraft descended from the sky onto the surface of the Ganges, gliding across the water toward the army.

It was a British S.5A seaplane.

Wu Heng sensed a scorching, nauseating aura emanating from the plane.

An hour earlier, after Wu Heng contacted Governor Daren to mobilize the Royal Air Force, Daren had simultaneously submitted an application to the domestic parliament, stating that the situation was urgent and unavoidable.

As long as he submitted it in time and coordinated with Commander-in-Chief Kamil, the consequences wouldn't be too severe.

Just as the parliament was about to approve the request, the Pope of the Church of England contacted them, claiming he had sensed something amiss with the Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force—that he might have been tainted by an evil aura and required investigation.

The parliament was horrified and hastily rejected the application, but it was already too late.

They could only scramble to dispatch a special plane carrying Cardinal Aslan Webster, who bore the Holy See's divine blessing, the Angel Feather, and was flying toward Pune with the intention of purifying Kamil.

I'm going to sleep now!