Chapter 101#

The Fallen Evil God’s Saint#

“O God of Light, please forgive my sins! I only accidentally injured a few commoners while riding my horse in the city. Who knew they were so fragile, that they could die from just a fever?”

“By the God of Light, I do not want the wet nurse Melia to leave, especially since my child still needs milk. Her son just happened to die not long ago; she’s perfect for being a wet nurse.”

“Strange noises often come from Earl Lyall’s estate. God of Light protect us, he hasn’t been in contact with things he shouldn’t be, has he? I’m really terrified of those madmen who believe in the fallen evil god. So many commoners died in the Royal Capital Massacre not long ago, yet the other nobles aren’t worried at all. I really don’t understand…”

Hearing this, Lin Xiaodong finally stopped expressionlessly answering “May the God of Light protect you.”

He straightened his body slightly and asked with great interest, “Sir, where do you live?”

“The West District,” the man replied with a sigh. The West District was the most chaotic and poorest area of the Royal Capital, where only destitute nobles would choose to live. “The place furthest from the cathedral. The God of Light’s afterglow never reaches the people there. I…” Halfway through his sentence, he suddenly realized he was speaking to the Saint of the Church and immediately began to stutter. “I, I didn’t mean that. My faith in the God of Light is absolutely loyal!”

“Please don’t be nervous, Mr. Michael. I haven’t doubted your faith in the God.” The Saint’s melodious voice, like a clear spring, came from behind the heavy curtain, causing Michael’s tense body to relax involuntarily as he sat back down.

“Could you tell me in detail about what happened at Earl Lyall’s estate?”

Lin Xiaodong tried to use the so-called “magic power” in this body across the curtain to pour a glass of water for Michael, which quickly earned the man’s overwhelmed thanks.

“It happened like this,” after drinking the glass of “holy water,” Michael felt full of strength, and his voice became more robust. “My family’s estate is right next to Earl Lyall’s; we’re practically neighbors. But recently, all the roosters raised at home have died mysteriously overnight, and no culprit can be found. Moreover, the farmers hired by the family dug up black sludge when reclaiming the fields…”

He talked incessantly, and behind the curtain, Lin Xiaodong’s brow gradually furrowed.

The mass death of roosters could be due to poisoning by an enemy. And digging up black sludge when reclaiming fields—how does that sound so much like an oil field?

If these were taken as evidence of Earl Lyall’s involvement with the fallen evil god, it would be a bit too far-fetched.

But Lin Xiaodong also knew that the people of this world were ruled by religious ideology. Cases of judging someone guilty based solely on “signs” were far too common. Therefore, he couldn’t speak too absolutely and could only soothe Michael with a few words, letting him take a bottle of holy water back to see if any other strange things happened. If there were, he should report to the Church then.

“Thank you, Your Holiness! Praise the God of Light!” Michael left with a thousand thanks.

This was the first confessor to thank him personally. It had to be said that although Michael was of low status and looked down upon by most Royal Capital nobles, talking with him was the only thing that made Lin Xiaodong feel pleasant today.

Confession time lasted only two hours. Upon leaving the dark room, Lin Xiaodong squinted his eyes, stimulated by the daylight outside. He wanted to stretch, but immediately abandoned the idea when he saw a row of divine servants standing not far away.

The Church had too many rules. Being new here, it was better to comply first.

He was thinking about the “Royal Capital Massacre” Michael had mentioned, planning to go to the library later to see if there were any relevant records. But a divine servant had already walked over and said respectfully, “Your Holiness, it is time for divine veneration.”

Lin Xiaodong didn’t know what “divine veneration” was. The information the system provided for this world was pitifully meager. Being in the headquarters of the Church of Light, he didn’t dare to call the system easily for fear of being discovered. So he could only nod vaguely and follow him forward.

The servant took him to a spacious room, inside which was a large bath about three meters in diameter, built with white jade stones.

Lin Xiaodong watched dumbfoundedly as groups of servants poured bucket after bucket of milk into it, even sprinkling a layer of precious flower petals and gold powder. He swallowed silently.

This… he wasn’t expected to go in and bathe, was he?

“Your Holiness, please bathe.” After pouring about dozens of buckets of milk, the servants lined up, and the leader said to him solemnly.

As expected!

Even in modern times, bathing in so much milk would be considered insanely extravagant. At least Lin Xiaodong couldn’t accept such waste. However, in this unreasonable world of gods, he could only stiffen his body and allow those servants to remove his clothes piece by piece.

The slender, blond youth was naked, his body wrapped in pure white silk. He stood barefoot on the cold floor tiles, shivering slightly from the chill in the air.

Like a lamb being sacrificed to the god, a tall servant carried him and placed him into the bath rippling with milky-white liquid.

Directly in front of him was a statue of the God of Light. The God of Light’s appearance in the hearts of the people of this world was that of a middle-aged man with golden hair and white skin, draped in a white hood—incidentally, this was also the appearance nobles took pride in.

With his back to the colorful stained-glass window, the God of Light sat high on his divine throne, his left hand holding the scepter of power and his right hand holding a laurel crown—the same one Lin Xiaodong wore on his head. His eyes showed no compassion or kindness, only high-and-mighty indifference and divinity. His emotionless gaze looked straight into the bath below, as if sizing up the sacrifice presented by the believers.

Lin Xiaodong was shivering in the bath.

This milk was not hot, and the silk could not block the chill from outside. However, to his despair, those servants not only showed no sign of letting him out but even knelt on the floor tiles and began to sing hymns!

“Light upon the earth, all filth swept away…”

“Heaven-sent Saint, protect all living beings…”

Along with the believers’ chanting, Lin Xiaodong was suddenly shocked to find that the bath beneath him was emitting white light!

But clearly, the servants were even more shocked than he was. Some of the extremely fanatical ones looked as if they were about to faint. Even so, they didn’t forget to keep singing, their voices even growing louder and more resonant—

Accompanied by an extreme white light, Lin Xiaodong’s world suddenly fell into darkness.

What… happened?

He held his breath and felt around, finding nothing. It was pitch black, and he couldn’t even distinguish directions. This situation was very similar to the state when the system took him into the void space after each world’s mission ended, but at least there was light then.

Could this be the “Divine Hall” where the God of Light resides?

Lin Xiaodong remembered the Luminous Codex he had briefly skimmed earlier, and a possible guess emerged in his mind.

But it was strange. Since it was the God of Light, why did the Divine Hall appear to be completely dark?

He couldn’t figure it out, so he thought, whatever, let’s start acting first.

Saint Lynn at this period was still a very devout follower of the Church of Light, his level of devotion not much different from those fanatical believers in the Church.

After the initial brief panic, the blond youth soon calmed down and asked softly in the darkness:

“My God, is it you?”

Receiving no response for a long time, he knelt down on the cold ground of his own accord, hands folded, and began to pray with closed eyes.

During the prayer, the youth’s eyelashes flickered slightly, and a faint smile hung on his lips. His beautiful and delicate face, like a divine gift, appeared exceptionally peaceful and serene in the boundless darkness.

It was as if for him, being able to pray to his god was a very happy thing.

The presence hidden in the darkness let out a silent, cold laugh.

As if in mockery, the darkness around the blond youth suddenly began to churn, turning into a viscous and chilly liquid that quickly wrapped around the youth’s limbs, forming a sharp contrast with the Saint’s milk-white, delicate skin.

“My God…?”

The Saint opened his eyes in alarm, letting out a short cry of surprise upon seeing the viscous black liquid on his body. He was forced to tilt his head back like a dying swan, his slender white neck also becoming entwined with the pervasive black slime, forming a black collar like a brand.

White and black, light and darkness, evil and holiness formed a strong visual impact, leaving the perpetrator of all this very satisfied.

“Beautiful.” The evil god curled his lips and whispered.

But under the abyss, the only ones who could hear this praise, besides himself, was the Saint who was being forced to struggle with the black sludge.

“God of Light… protect… all beings…” Although it was already difficult to breathe, the blond youth still tried to pray to the god. He seemed to have given up the struggle, allowing the black liquid to envelope his body, from his slender ankles to his beautifully lined back, then to his neck, his head…

The evil god suddenly felt a trace of irritability.

This irritability came for no reason, but he had always been a willful and wanton god, so now the evil god didn’t want the Saint to die.

Even for the most beautiful person, the way they look when suffocating to death is very ugly.

The Saint was as beautiful as a work of art, so the evil god’s heart was moved, wanting to keep him forever in the darkness of the abyss, turning him into his precious collection. But now the evil god had changed his mind—although the youth was beautiful, he lacked some interest.

He had seen too many devout believers who, until death, still prayed to the heavens for the God of Light’s protection, unaware that the so-called God of Light was a massive lie—the evil god laughed softly, beckoned, and summoned the mass of sludge wrapping the Saint’s body before him.

A portion of the black liquid receded, revealing the Saint’s snow-white face, which had fallen unconscious from suffocation.

The evil god’s sharp black nails slowly traced across this milk-soft cheek, quickly breaking the Saint’s skin.

A trickle of blood slowly flowed down his face. The evil god bared his teeth, his coarse tongue tip grazing the wound, causing the blond youth to let out an unbearable moan: “No…”

The smell of blood stimulated the evil god, and he became involuntarily excited. The black sludge instantly vanished, turning into clusters of dark red ghost fires burning in all directions. In the blood-red light, a tall evil god leaning on a mountain of skeletons from tens of thousands of races was draped in a black robe. He was almost two meters tall, his face indistinct, shrouded in a mass of thick black mist.

The naked Saint held in his arms appeared as petite as a broken doll, and under the evil god’s cold gaze, as delicious as a dying lamb.

“I shall bestow upon you supreme power,” the evil god declared, and the laws hidden in the darkness began to fluctuate violently. He extended a finger, lightly touching the center of the unconscious Saint’s brow.

In an instant, like a drop of ink falling into clear water, dark power began to spread rapidly from the evil god’s fingertip across the Saint’s skin. The blond youth’s originally snow-white skin was tainted, the light power within his body constantly being assimilated by darkness. His originally sun-bright blond hair also began to grow wildly and lose its color… eventually turning into snow-white hair that reached the floor.

The evil god looked at his masterpiece and laughed with satisfaction.

He pinched the Saint’s chin and pressed his forehead against his, laughing with pleasure upon hearing the youth, even after being contaminated, still murmuring the God of Light’s name.

“The light is dead,” his lips brushed against the youth’s flower-red, soft lips almost imperceptibly. His low, hoarse voice was like demonic music from the depths of a nightmare, or like the judgment of Ragnarok in the Age of End-of-Dharma. “Only I am your one and only god.”

Hearing the voice, the Saint opened his eyes with difficulty.

Upon seeing the evil god in close proximity, his pupils shrank, but he soon showed an enduring expression and shook his head at him.

“I don’t believe it,” he said. “Do not hope to waver me. Evil god, no matter why you chose me, I can never abandon my faith.”

“Is that so?” The evil god smiled slightly. “Then we shall see. One day, you will crawl at my feet of your own accord, praising my name.”

“Never.” But the Saint’s expression remained firm. “Even if you kill me.”

He closed his eyes, lifting his neck to receive death. However, the evil god merely grabbed his wrist, lifting him into the air and tying him to a black cross, admiring his body as if observing a work of art.

“Just kill me!” the Saint opened his eyes in anger, shouting at him.

“Shh, shh, don’t be so impatient.” The evil god raised a finger with interest, lifting the youth’s stubborn chin. His large hand gripped the youth’s waist tightly, and with sharp nails, he slowly traced a hexagram mark at the base of his spine. The Saint trembled all over from the pain, biting his lower lip hard, but those eyes—those eyes that had been stained black—still glared fixedly at the evil god before him.

As the evil god moved, the dark power on the Saint was gradually being absorbed by the hexagram. The originally black skin turned snow-white again, and the bone-pale long hair returned to its brilliant gold.

“What are you…?” The Saint looked at him in bewilderment. There was no reason to have a sacrifice at one’s lips and not eat it. Was the being before him still a fallen evil god?

“I told you, one day, you will voluntarily beg for my grace.”

The evil god possessed endless time, and thus his patience was also very good when facing a delicious, not-yet-grown little lamb.

He gently brushed aside the stray hairs on the Saint’s forehead, tucking them behind the youth’s ear, though they were soon dodged by the other’s face of disgust. “Take your filthy hands off me!”

The evil god laughed instead of being angry. He asked, “If the person touching you now were the God of Light, would you treat him the same way?”

“Of course not,” the Saint said coldly. “Do not compare my God with a fallen evil god like you.”

But upon hearing these offensive, death-defying words, the pleasant smile on the evil god’s face widened several degrees.

“Ah, the Saint, the purest sacrifice offered to the God of Light, the divine prostitute serving the God. If what he wants is your chastity, your first night… would you still wash yourself clean, lie obediently beneath him, and serve him with all your heart and soul?”

The corner of the Saint’s mouth seemed to twitch, but he soon replied righteously, “Of course. Everything I have belongs to the God of Light.” Bullshit.

The evil god burst into a sudden laugh for no reason.

“Good, good, good,” he said “good” three times while looking at the youth’s tightly furrowed brow. Suddenly, he reached out and covered the Saint’s eyes, which had returned to their clear blue. His dry lips pressed against his Adam’s apple, the cold, vibrating touch causing the youth to shiver in alarm.

“I look forward to our next meeting, my little lamb.”

The feeling of suffocation once again enveloped his body. Just when Lin Xiaodong thought he was really going to die this time, the world returned to light.

The youth who had been floating quietly in the milk bath suddenly opened his eyes. He gasped for air desperately as if having survived a disaster, almost choking on the milk in the bath.

Damn it, I met a pervert!

Thinking of the desperate suffocation in the black slime earlier, Lin Xiaodong was fuming—what was wrong with this world’s evil god? Did the God of Light destroy his hometown or something? Why did he have to take it out on a tiny mortal like him?

“Your Holiness!!!”

Having finally regained normal breathing, Lin Xiaodong had just steadied himself when he heard an excited shout from behind.

He suddenly crouched down, only then remembering he wasn’t wearing any clothes. The youth crouched in the bath, staring at the group of believers whose faces were flushed with excitement, and asked softly, “W-what’s wrong?”

“Your hair!” the servant said tremblingly. “It’s a miracle! It’s the grace of the God of Light!”

Only then did Lin Xiaodong notice that his long hair had grown to his ankles in just a short time. The golden strands floated on the milk bath like shimmering gold powder.

But this was no grace of the God of Light; it was something made up by a certain perverted evil god on a whim. Lin Xiaodong secretly rolled his eyes, but still said gently, “Praise be to the God of Light for his protection.”

He didn’t dare admit what that perverted evil god had said—something about “looking forward to our next meeting”… Although Lin Xiaodong didn’t look forward to it at all, he still had to be careful with his words and actions to prevent being caught by the evil god and discovered that he was actually a great proletarian warrior who disdained religion.

If only the system were still here, Lin Xiaodong thought regretfully. Then he would have someone to ask, instead of having to figure everything out on his own like this, which made it easy to fall into a trap.

The news of what happened in the cathedral soon spread throughout the Royal Capital. Within two days, everyone in the Royal Capital knew that the Saint had received the God of Light’s favor during divine veneration, obtaining a head of long hair as beautiful and brilliant as golden silk.

For this reason, the Pope personally summoned him.

“Child, you have done well,” the Pope, draped in fine robes and wearing a crown set with over a hundred precious gems of various sizes, said to him with an affectionate face, though what he was thinking in his heart remained unknown. “The previous High Priest’s deathbed prophecy was correct: you will become the most special one in the Church of Light in a thousand years, the child most favored by the God.”

The blond youth stood before him, bowing his head submissively.

“To serve the God of Light is the most supreme mission of my life.”

The Pope slightly narrowed his eyes, looking somewhat inquisitively at the Saint who had undergone a subtle change overnight. He inquired tentatively, “Child, I heard you have been going to the library frequently lately. Do you have some troubles? If you do, you can tell me. I am willing to help you solve them.”

The Saint shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. His clear blue eyes looked as pure and flawless as the white pigeons atop the cathedral.

“No, Your Holiness,” he said softly. “I have simply… after receiving the God’s baptism, felt as if I have been reborn and transformed.”