Chapter 250: Necessary Sacrifice

Inside the subterranean cavern beneath Mount Laobao, the Echoing chants of the four outer disciples slowly faded into silence.

“…Who Shall Devour All!”

For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened.

The heavy silence returned to the cave, broken only by the steady dripping of water from stalactites into the subterranean pool.

Naen, Peatyr, Hugan, and Mayr remained on their knees, their breathing shallow and anxious as they stared at the damp stone wall, waiting for a sign, a thunderclap, or a voice from the heavens.

Yet, the glowing runes on the mural remained still, and the air felt entirely unchanged.

Disappointment began to creep into Naen’s eyes.

He shifted his weight, preparing to look back at Eurenia, wondering if his worthlessness was so absolute that even a god of legend would refuse to acknowledge him.

Before any of the four outer disciples could react or move a single muscle, the ambient greenish luminescence in the cave violently shattered.

BOOM!

A blinding, crimson light erupted directly from the carved runes of the Three Paths Honorifics.

It did not merely illuminate the cave; it expanded like an absolute, physical wave, consuming the subterranean chamber in an suffocating blanket of blood-red radiance.

The four disciples gasped, but no sound escaped their throats.

Their bodies shuddered violently as if struck by invisible lightning.

Thin, glowing tendrils of pure, primordial crimson mana snaked out from the walls, piercing through their chests and sinking deep into their spiritual meridians.

“Aaargh…!”

Naen’s eyes rolled back into his head, his veins swelling along his neck and arms, pulsating with a fierce, violet-crimson glow.

Alongside his three companions, his body floated an inch off the cold stone floor, enveloped in thick, cocoon-like spheres of divine energy.

The sheer density of the power flowing into them shattered their frail, low-realm cultivation bottlenecks in a matter of seconds, forcibly cleansing their impurities and reconstructing their bone marrow.

Then, as suddenly as it had erupted, the crimson light vanished into their bodies.

THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!

The four spheres collapsed, and all four youths fell limp onto the stone ground, knocked out cold, sleeping deeply as the divine blessing of the God of Beast and Men systematically rewrote their mortal foundations.

Standing a few paces away, Eurenia’s eyes were wide in absolute, stunned shock.

She stared at the four unconscious disciples in complete bewilderment, her chest heaving slightly as she tried to process what she had just witnessed.

She had expected her Master to notice the prayers—perhaps to bestow a subtle sign or grant them a microscopic spark of faith.

But she had never imagined Lord Varanus would personally reach across his divine realm of space to directly bestow a divine awakening upon four nameless, low-realm human cultivators!

‘My God…’ Eurenia thought, her hands trembling as a tear of pure, fanatical reverence slipped down her cheek. ‘You truly do not care about species or status… You grant power to any soul who offers true devotion… Your greatness is truly unfathomable…!’

A soft, proud smile spread across her face. She stepped forward, standing guard over the four sleeping recruits as their new, empowered fate settled within them.

***

High Above the Northern Hashian Mountains.

The once-majestic peaks of the Northern Hashian range were now scarred, blackened, and covered in desolate ash.

For three continuous days and nights, the three thousand Holy Paladins, fifty Martial Generals, ten Martial Lord High Priests, and Cardinal Ryoger himself had scoured every cave, valley, sect, and hidden domain in the northern region.

They had torn through ancient ruins, interrogated local sects, and burned down suspicious strongholds—yet, they had found absolute zero traces of the followers of the God of Beast.

The feral cult had vanished into thin air, leaving behind only empty dirt and cold mountain winds.

Hovering side by side in the freezing upper sky, overlooking the vast, sweeping continent beneath them, stood Cardinal Ryoger and the mutated Angel of Dawn, Mauresis.

Cardinal Ryoger’s crimson cloak snapped furiously in the high-altitude gales.

His long, snow-white hair fluttered behind him, and his stern, wrinkled face was dark with deep frustration and exhaustion.

Beside him, Mauresis hovered with absolute, terrifying grace, his single, colossal cyclopean eye staring down at the mortal world with cold, unblinking detachment.

Cardinal Ryoger turned his head slightly, his piercing ice-blue eyes fixing upon the monstrosity beside him.

“We have razed the entirety of the Northern Hashian range, Angel Mauresis,” Ryoger spoke, his deep, authoritative voice slicing through the roaring wind.

“There is not a single rat belonging to the Feral Primordial left in these lands. They have retreated entirely. What is your next move?”

Mauresis did not immediately answer.

His mutated, mouthless face vibrated as a low, multi-layered resonance echoed smoothly inside Ryoger’s head.

“My purpose in descending to this fragile, mortal plane is absolute, Cardinal,” Mauresis replied, his single orange eye tracking the distant horizon toward the south.

“My only goal is the complete, bloody eradication of every soul who dares whisper the name of the God of Beast. If they are no longer in the North, then their shadows have crept southward.”

He raised a long, pale arm, pointing a clawed finger toward the lush, misty mountain ranges visible far in the distance—the Southern Hashian Mountains.

“We shall set our sights on the South,” Mauresis continued coldly. “We will commence a full military invasion into the Southern Hashian range and purge every valley.”

Cardinal Ryoger’s thick, white eyebrows furrowed tightly into a sharp V.

He stroked his long beard, his eyes narrowing as he considered the massive geopolitical ramifications.

“The Southern Hashian Mountains are not like these barren northern cliffs,” Ryoger warned, his voice grave.

“The South is a declared religiously free territory, governed by ancient treaties between neutral cultivator sects and independent regional lords. The Holy Church of the Sky cannot simply march three thousand paladins and ten Martial Lords across their borders without cause. Doing so would provoke the neutral sects into a unified war against us.”

Hearing the old Martial Saint’s political hesitation, Mauresis’ single eye curved slightly into a sinister, crescent shape.

A deep, mocking chuckle resonated directly inside Ryoger’s mind.

“Cause?” Mauresis echoed smoothly, turning his massive eye to stare directly into Ryoger’s soul. “You are mortals, yet you concern yourselves with the fragile diplomatic niceties of men when fighting a war of gods? If you lack a reason, Cardinal… then you must simply manufacture one.”

Cardinal Ryoger stiffened. “Manufacture one?”

“It is quite simple,” Mauresis spoke, his tone dripping with dark, manipulative intelligence.

“Select a small vanguard of your own paladins—perhaps a few dozen expendable warriors. Send them into the border villages of the Southern Hashian Mountains under the guise of an exploratory patrol. Then… slaughter them yourself, or allow them to be executed.”

Ryoger’s eyes widened slightly, but he remained quiet, listening intently.

“Once their blood has spilled upon southern soil,” Mauresis whispered, his voice sounding like a sweet, venomous lullaby, “you shall march your entire Holy Fleet to their gates. You will display the mangled corpses of your holy warriors to the world, raise your divine banners, and scream accusations of heresy at the top of your lungs. You will proclaim to the entire continent that the Southern Hashian Mountains are harboring the blasphemous cult of the God of Beast, and that they dared to execute the holy messengers of the Sky God.”

Mauresis folded his arms beneath High Priest Arnold’s white-and-gold holy cloak, his single eye burning with radiant orange light.

“A righteous crusade requires no truth, Cardinal Ryoger,” Mauresis concluded with a cold, lopsided grin.

“It requires a necessary sacrifice”

“It requires only blood… and an excuse for the masses to justify their violence. Do this, and the South shall burn by your own hand.”