Chapter 238: The Town Where Memories Are Forbidden

Chapter 238: The Town Where Memories Are Forbidden

Generally speaking, the summoning rituals directed at the True Deity are quite complex: in grand and magnificent halls or altars, devout believers favored by the gods recite elaborate and lengthy prayers, with precious offerings of mystical significance, priceless incense and candles, and ceaseless lights and prayer dances, all while kneeling before intricately carved statues, humbly beseeching the divine presence.

But to Yi Fengchu, these procedures were all superficial, mere formalities.

What mattered most was whether he was willing to respond.

When Yi Fengchu was willing to descend, even if Lena merely chanted a chapter from the holy scriptures unconsciously, and the only “medium” available was the blood of a seventh-rank Fate Domain practitioner, Yi Fengchu would unhesitatingly seize upon this chanting, guiding the connection to pinpoint his exact location in the Shadow Realm of Sombera.

He did not need an expansive altar.

When the deity descended, the entire city became a temple; the rainwater flowing over the city’s surface was the sacred ground upon which the deity stepped.

However, after truly descending, Yi Fengchu found a somewhat awkward issue:

Using the entire water surface as a mirror, his projected image was significantly enlarged, transforming into a towering giant that reached from the earth to the sky.

As Yi Fengchu truly stood up, the town beneath him shrank continuously, eventually becoming a tiny miniature model, like an exquisite decorative item in a display case.

So small... it actually looked a bit cute.

However, the problem was that such a massive form was not conducive to Yi Fengchu’s subsequent activities in the Shadow Realm.

While pondering, Yi Fengchu lowered his gaze, directing his eyes toward the other “self” ensconced within the town.

Perhaps, he could make use of a high-tier artifact that had long been gathering dust.

That was the S-rank lantern item seized from Hecate—the "Crucible of Rebirth."

...

Lena and Timansa held their breaths, stunned in place.

They witnessed the giant rising almost from the reflection of the entire town, as if stepping out of ancient myths.

The people on the ground, even straining their necks to look up, could not see His face, only a blur of flowing mist and lightning flickering like serpents at the horizon.

When He extended His hand, the thunder and rain ceased, the blinding lightning transforming into tamed butterflies, quietly entwining around His fingertips, then extinguishing completely as He clasped His hands.

The dense clouds in the sky were casually torn apart by the giant; though the rain had stopped, an oppressive gloom still lingered—especially after the lightning vanished, plunging heaven and earth into a deep darkness, as if the scene before them was shrouded in black veils.

In the silent dimness, the sound of people's heartbeats seemed amplified, thudding in their ears, and Lena could hear her own trembling breaths.

The vague giant silhouette that rose from the reflection, enveloped in mist...

Was this the deity she believed in?

Lena gazed steadily at the giant, her eyes gradually filling with a natural fervor she herself hadn't noticed.

She could faintly sense the connection between her and Him, the other end undoubtedly a powerful and gentle presence.

He calmly pushed away Lena's impending doom, much like gently guiding a boat that was about to capsize and hit the rocks on a lake, allowing it to continue moving forward, free from the terrifying whirlpool.

At this moment, Lena felt both bewildered and strangely certain:

It was Him.

It is such a deity that could make her willingly dedicate her life to faith and service.

Amid the thick clouds, a massive shadow slightly lowered its head, its indistinct face seemingly gazing at the earth, lost in some unknown thoughts.

Lena refused to move, while Timantha and the serpent dared not stir at all.

The serpents hissed and flicked their tongues, showing signs of agitation and unease as if facing a formidable enemy, then gradually quieted down, each snake lying low on the ground, silently slithering along the streets and through the cracks in the bricks.

As the swarm of serpents retreated, Timantha, with her stiff and sore neck, wondered inwardly if Lena had some peculiar talent for conducting mysterious rituals.

How did she manage to summon terrifying entities far beyond the usual scale, time and again?

And each time, they seemed even more powerful...

Timantha tried to smooth down her raised goosebumps, harboring no doubt that this colossal figure could reduce the entire town to ashes in an instant.

In the midst of disordered and interwoven breaths, the dimness that enveloped heaven and earth did not last long.

A spark suddenly flared up from the giant’s palm.

At first, it was just scattered embers, but then the flames grew with the wind, roaring into a blaze like a newborn sun—only this “sun” nestled obediently in the giant’s palm, less like a celestial body ruling the universe and more like a beacon illuminating the world.

And so it was.

The flame danced as if alive, eventually forming an ancient-looking lantern, which the giant held in his left hand, temporarily becoming the brightest light source hovering above the town.

The lantern-bearing giant bent down, casting a shadow of immense pressure.

The moment He drew near, Lena felt an even purer sense of faith and reliance.

Tymansa was gripped by deep fear, the suffocating sensation of not daring to breathe disorienting her mind, the dizzying waves of faintness surging like a rising tide—without faith as her shield, she felt the overwhelming power and the crushing force on a life level even more directly than Lena, almost hearing the screams and cries for help of her own sanity.

Tymansa tried to control herself to look away from that terrifyingly massive figure, but her gaze seemed glued in place, like a tiny speck of dust drawn to a black hole, following every movement of the giant.

She couldn't help but open her mouth, taking small breaths, trying her best to suppress the fear that clutched at her heart.

Fortunately, the giant apparently hadn't noticed her.

He merely passed over her lightly, as humans often overlook ants lingering by the roadside... and Tymansa felt relieved by this.

—It was too good; she was so insignificant that she didn't even catch His attention.

Yifengchu extended his right hand and grasped the serpent on the street.

Though it was called a "serpent," from Yifengchu's current perspective, it was only about half the thickness of his wrist.

It opened its mouth, revealing sharp white fangs, attempting to bite down, but Yifengchu tightly held it by the throat, preventing any escape.

Hmm... what if it did manage to bite him?

Yifengchu thought that even if the serpent's fangs could pierce the surface of his body, they would leave no more than two barely noticeable punctures. Compared to the giant's size, the serpent was practically harmless, like a pet snake.

Casually placing the lantern atop the highest bell tower in the town, Yifengchu began to leisurely observe another version of himself, reflecting a certain stage of his serpentine existence.

The serpent seemed to have completely abandoned language, only agitatedly flicking its tongue to gather scent information from the air.

Its world was simple, ancient, and bloody—always about hunting, killing, or dying, with no possibility of communication or negotiation.

"Look at you," Yifengchu murmured, feeling the tickling sensation of the serpent's smaller self crawling along the lines of his palm, "so pitiful... so wretched."

Stripped of one's flesh and bones, forgetting language, forgetting one’s name, even losing oneself, what could be left in the end?

A powerful yet hollow shell?

He was describing the snake, but also examining himself across time.

He would kill this beastly self again and again.

The giant's sigh drifted into the ears of the two Ability users, carrying an indescribable complexity of emotions.

It seemed like a dispassionate judgment and blame, yet also a regret or sorrow.

No one could discern true malice from His tone, but His fingers steadily applied force, robbing the snake of any space to struggle or breathe, without a moment's hesitation or retreat.

This killing intent was like a breeze—it blew gently and warmly, but everyone knew the wind would inevitably come, sooner or later.

Tymasha thought that the giant was calm as if completing a necessary task, as if "the snake dying by His hand" was a fate long predetermined.

...Only He had the right to kill it.

At this moment, the invincible silver snake on the ground, held in the giant's palm, seemed like a harmless pet snake.

Of course, the snake still followed its instinct for survival, desperately trying to counterattack.

It continuously invoked the powers of "Fate" and "Time," but was suppressed with a casual gesture from Yi Fengchu. He seemed nonchalant as he stroked the snake's fine scales, causing blood to seep out between them.

The snake's blood was also silver-white, like refined mercury, sprinkling down to the ground and being dyed golden-red by the light of the "Newborn Furnace."

This rain of golden-red droplets fell upon the earth, instantly corroding bricks and soil, hissing and rising in corrosive white smoke.

First, the serpent's tail tightly coiled around the giant's wrist, but this had no effect on Yi Fengchu, the embodiment of rain and mist;

Gradually, the snake lost its strength, truly lowering its tail in stillness.

Lena watched this scene, and the box that held her memories suddenly opened.

"So what I once recalled and imagined... was the Son of God," Lena murmured, her words jumbled from the overwhelming surge of memories, "No, no... it was a monster modeled after the Son of God."

Though she more often prayed to the Lord of Fate, she had never seen His true form or any of His avatars, thus failing to meet the conditions for concrete manifestation.

Therefore, what Lena brought into reality through her memories was a descendant of the deity who had once coldly gazed at her before the snow-capped mountain.

Realizing this, an immense sense of guilt engulfed Lena.

...What had she done?

She had made the deity she worshipped step down from His throne for His child... only to kill it with His own hands.

Lena looked up, seeing the deity's hand like a mountain rising to the sky, encircling the dying serpent, evoking images of the benevolent saints in mythological frescoes cradling lambs, but the sky was not bathed in the pure, life-giving light; instead, it was drenched in vast, shocking waves of golden-red blood.

The false Son of God perished in the palm of its original creator, its father, just as the Son of God was born.