Chapter 245: Pray to the God of Beast

‘I knew this wasn’t going to be easy,’ Mauresis let out a heavy, soundless sigh within the spiritual sea of his vessel. ‘Should I just kill them all right now and handle this whole affair myself?’

Mauresis stood completely unbothered, hovering in midair as three thousand Holy Paladins, fifty Martial Generals, and ten Martial Lord High Priests drew their weapons, directing a thick wave of lethal hostility toward him.

He certainly possessed the divine origin strength to wipe out the entire army below.

However, locked within this mutated mortal vessel, engaging Cardinal Ryoger—a genuine, high-tier Martial Saint—would be no different than his previous brutal clash against the two Martial Saint followers of the God of Beast.

Cultivators who ascended to the realm of Martial Lord and above were notoriously difficult to kill.

But a Martial Saint was on an entirely different level; they could manipulate the subtle laws of spatial reality to a certain extent, allowing them to easily slip away from near-death situations and escape across immense distances.

If Ryoger escaped, the Sky Church’s full military mobilization across the continent would be fractured.

After carefully weighing the pros and cons, Mauresis decided to spare them.

The mortals could be turned into far more effective tools if guided correctly.

Mauresis’ single orange eye curved slightly into the shape of a serene crescent, a calm smile gracing his mutated lips.

“Lower your weapons, servant of the Sky,” Mauresis spoke, his multi-layered voice echoing across the heavens like smooth silk.

“I am no enemy of yours. I am Mauresis, an Angel dispatched directly from the upper realm by the supreme decree of the God of the Sky.

This physical vessel—which originally belonged to your High Priest Arnold—was freely offered to me so that I might descend into this mortal plane and punish the heresy rising across these lands.”

He offered a graceful, subtle lies-laced explanation, claiming that High Priest Arnold had willingly surrendered his flesh and soul as a sacred vessel in order to channel divine angelic authority into the mortal realm.

Seeing that this terrifying, unknown entity was not directly hostile and was actively claiming affiliation with the God of the Sky, Cardinal Ryoger’s tense posture gradually softened.

His piercing ice-blue eyes scanned the alien aura of Mauresis, quickly determining that cooperation was the only prudent path forward.

If a battle erupted here, the collateral damage would be catastrophic.

His three thousand paladins would be vaporized instantly, and even he—a Martial Saint—might barely escape with his life.

“Stand down!” Cardinal Ryoger commanded, raising his crimson sleeve. “Lower your weapons!”

CLANG!

In an instant, the three thousand paladins lowered their tower shields and holstered their spears in perfect obedience.

Cardinal Ryoger glided forward a few paces, his brow still heavily furrowed. “If you are indeed an Angel of our Lord… then tell me, Angel Mauresis: where are the blasphemous followers of the God of Beast? Where is their stronghold?”

Mauresis smiled bitterly, shaking his head with a slight, theatrical sigh. “They have fled. The moment my divine presence descended upon their lair, they scattered into the shadows. Not a single trace of their core church remains within the Northern Hashian Mountains.”

Cardinal Ryoger exhaled a long, deep sigh, his eyes darkening as he tilted his head toward the expansive mountain ranges stretching across the horizon.

His eyebrows furrowed sharply as he declared in a cold, uncompromising tone, “Then a grand religious war has officially begun. If they have fled the north, we shall search the absolute entirety of the four Hashian Mountain ranges!

Even if we must turn the other regional sects into our enemies, every single blasphemers against the Sky shall be utterly destroyed!”

Mauresis stood with his hands folded neatly behind his back, a subtle, lopsided grin appearing on his face.

Sparing these foolish human zealots had indeed been the correct choice—they would make marvelous, bloodthirsty hounds to flush out Roy’s hidden forces.

***

Eastern Hashian Mountains — Mount Laobao.

While the northern sky bristled with holy armaments, the lower grounds of the Emerald Purity Sect were teeming with thousands of vibrant, eager hopefuls.

The grand discipleship evaluation examination had officially commenced on the vast white-marble plaza.

The trial was divided into three rigorous stages designed to filter out the untalented masses:

1. Cultivation Limit Test: Measuring the exact purity, depth, and capacity of the candidate’s spiritual meridians.

2. Potential Evaluation: Testing their innate comprehension of martial scriptures and elemental affinities.

3. Battle Strength Assessment: Pitting candidates against trial constructs to prove their practical combat instincts and martial will.

Only those who excelled across all three stages would be considered worthy of the sect’s heavy investment.

While the loud, chaotic cheers of the evaluation echoed across the main plaza, a small group of four outer disciples was strolling casually down a secluded, forest-lined hill away from the main grounds.

They were smiling and laughing merrily, slinging their crimson-emerald robes over their shoulders as they headed toward a hidden natural spring deep in the mountain valley to wash away the day’s sweat.

Upon arriving at the crystal-clear, steam-veiled spring, the four youths stripped off their remaining clothes and dived happily into the cool, sparkling waters.

They splashed each other, swimming around lazily until one of the disciples dived deeper near the rocky submerged cliffside.

Beneath the clear water, the disciple noticed a dark, narrow fissure in the rock face—an underwater cave entrance.

He surfaced, waving his hand frantically. “Hey! Come down here! There’s an underwater cavern beneath the rock face!”

Curious, the other three disciples took deep breaths and dived down, following him through the narrow aquatic tunnel.

After swimming upward through a short, vertical passage, they broke the surface, gasping for air as they stepped onto a dry, subterranean stone floor.

The cave was dimly illuminated by an ethereal, greenish luminescence embedded in the rock.

As the four disciples shook the water from their hair and stepped forward, something on the cavern walls immediately snared their attention.

Detailed, breathtaking murals were deeply carved into the stone surface, depicting a sprawling, ancient civilization of beastmen.

Figures of Rabbit-kin, Frog-kin, Tiger-kin, Wolf-kin, Hyena-kin, and countless other feral species were portrayed on their knees in deep, fanatical reverence, bowing before a towering, glowing sigil carved high above them.

Directly beneath the sacred sigil, ancient, glowing runes were inscribed into the rock—words that could only be read and understood through the lost, primordial dialect of Ancient Lydora:

“Blessed Art Thou O Great Eternal One.”

“Thy name, Varanus, is the truth.”

“You are the Great Primordial of the Feral Domain.”

“You are the Principal of the Fractured Mind.”

“You are the God of Beast and Men, Who Shall Devour All.”

They heard a voice whispering into their minds.

“Pray to Lord Varanus…”

“Pray to the God of Beast