Even Wu Heng's face, filled with the "Art of Fear," failed to stir the slightest ripple in his soul.
This resistance had completely surpassed ordinary humans, even demon-class beings.
"Since the moment you discovered me!" Wu Heng said.
"So that's how it is. When you resurrected after hanging yourself, I sensed that something was wrong. I originally thought you were merely a special fish that had slipped through the net," the middle-aged soul said.
"And now?"
"I don't understand. You are not an extension of my consciousness. There isn't even the slightest connection between you and me. For this world, that seems impossible."
"Unless you came from a place very, very far away!"
"But even if you came from a distant place, it would still be impossible for you to enter my body without a sound."
The middle-aged man shook his head slightly.
He was the Father who had been busy arranging the Bible when Wu Heng first opened his eyes and found himself hanging there.
Or rather, from the instant Wu Heng appeared—
The Father's original soul had already been wiped clean as though formatted, losing all thought and memory before being reshaped into another existence.
The evil gods were all temporarily trapped within the enormous pit.
And someone who could ignore Wu Heng's aura, look directly at him, and remain so calm had to be at least pseudo-Hell-class.
That left only one being in this world that met both conditions.
"Creator!" Wu Heng said.
The middle-aged man first nodded slightly, then shook his head and sighed. "I am it, but I am also not it."
"I possess my own individual thoughts, even if those thoughts were rewritten."
Just as a single ant could not represent an ant colony, even if it evolved into an ant queen, it would