Chapter 6

Chapter 6

If anyone else had said this, Kane would’ve suspected them of ulterior motives, trying to cozy up to Archbishop Mitched by seizing this opportunity. But looking at Chantulika's expression, his eyes were clearly filled with murderous intent.

"Ah, you want to go?" Though Kane had considered that Chantulika might be unusual in some way, he had never witnessed it firsthand. What if he misjudged his abilities? That would ruin him.

Chantulika was the first person Kane had met after his rebirth, and he had personally witnessed his resurrection from death. Because of this, Kane felt a certain distinction in his perception of him—almost like he was a mascot, someone he cared about.

"Right, it's just a shoulder rub, isn't it? I’m really strong." Ning Chan flexed his arms in a mock muscle pose at Kane and patted his chest, assuring him he could handle it.

Despite Ning Chan’s confidence, Kane still felt uneasy. "How about I go with you? It’s too much for you to do alone."

"It’s fine. Archbishop Mitched seems really kind. He probably won’t make us kids work too hard. I might be back soon."

Ning Chan glanced at Kane, whose face was streaked with tears and covered in sweat. "You look like a mess. Go wash up later so you don’t feel uncomfortable." He instinctively reached for his pocket, only to remember the rough fabric of his saintly robe—more like a white dress—had no pockets.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, giving up on wiping Kane’s tears.

After dinner, ensuring his superpower reserves were fully replenished, Ning Chan went to knock on Archbishop Mitched’s door.

Meanwhile, Kane Xiao, left in the dormitory, kept replaying Ning Chan’s expression as he turned to leave.

One second, it was a barely convincing forced cheerfulness. The next, it was a raw, unfiltered gloom.

Coupled with those clenched fists, if anyone claimed he wasn’t going to pick a fight, Kane would bet his head on it in a heartbeat.

So, just who was this guy?

The "mysterious" Ning Chan was now in Mitched’s room, announcing his reason for coming.

"You want to help Little Kane with something? Hmm, you two must really be good friends."

"Alright then, why don’t you give my legs a rub for me?"

"Thank you, Little Chantulika." Mitched looked Ning Chan up and down, his lecherous gaze making Ning Chan’s smile stiffen.

But the flickering candlelight and dim room hid Ning Chan’s true expression well.

Ning Chan placed his hands on Mitched’s legs, pretending to massage them while waiting to see if the man would make a move.

After all, some people, despite their twisted desires, restrained themselves from acting.

But Mitched clearly wasn’t one of them.

Ning Chan had barely rubbed twice before a sweat-slicked, clammy hand touched his shoulder, then yanked him into an embrace.

Just as that hand tried to slip under his clothes, Ning Chan caught it with his palm.

Ning Chan bared his teeth in a humorless smile, his eyes burning with fury. "Archbishop, what are you doing?"

Mitched stared at his soft, youthful skin and smiling eyes, his breathing growing heavy and ragged. "Little Chantulika, the Archbishop thinks you’ve done very well and wants to reward you."

"Later, the Archbishop will assess your physique to see if you have the potential to become a Holy Lord. Even if you don’t, it’s fine. The Archbishop has the divine spirit here—it’ll cleanse your soul and elevate your potential."

As he spoke, Mitched tried to forcibly push down Ning Chan’s hand, ready to begin his so-called "purification."

Ning Chan arched an eyebrow, his smile widening. "You’re lying. I see your rotten soul. It’s you who needs purification."

"What?!" Ning Chan’s expression and words stunned Mitched for a moment. He wanted to dismiss it as a child’s joke, but an inexplicable terror took root in his chest.

Before Miced could throw away the burning coal in his hands, he saw Ning Chan raise his hand and press it against his forehead. Flames instantly erupted, wrapping around his entire body. "You are filthy. The gods grant you sacred flames to cleanse yourself."

Miced's hair, eyebrows, and clothes turned to ashes in the flames. His once carefully tended skin quickly reddened, swelled, and charred under the fire's assault. Yet, these flames did not even touch the hem of Ning Chan's robe, flowing harmlessly around him like water.

As if remembering something, Ning Chan jumped off Miced's lap and waved his hand, withdrawing the flames. In just those few moments, Miced had lost all his hair and suffered extensive burns. His skin had blackened and peeled away, leaving his flesh a mangled mess. He didn’t even have time to scream before the pain knocked him unconscious.

As for the vile source of his disgusting desires, under Ning Chan’s special attention, it had already turned into a puff of ash—a "smoke bird" taking flight.

Ning Chan had considered burning the man to death outright, but thinking of the sins he had committed, he felt such a quick death would be too merciful.

He still had things to do, and Miced would serve as a pawn until his final punishment. For now, he would keep him clinging to life, forcing him to endure the agony of burning every day, "savoring" his own personal hell before finally perishing.

Of course, if the man couldn’t endure it, that would spare him a couple of days of "enjoyment."

At this thought, Ning Chan’s twisted smile eased.

He stood up, picked up the black disciplinary rod from the desk, and crouched beside Miced. Pressing the rod against the hand that had touched his shoulder, he channeled his Wood-element Superpower through flesh and blood, slightly stabilizing the man’s wretched condition.

Miced, who had been knocked unconscious by the excruciating pain, was forcibly awakened by the agony in his hand and the life-prolonging energy of the Wood-element Superpower.

His eyes crusted with blood peeled open, meeting Ning Chan’s scrutinizing gaze. He nearly jolted upright in terror, but the pain across his body froze him in place.

"D-Devil! You devil! What do you want? Gold, jewels, or souls?" Miced was convinced that only a devil could wield flames to harm others. This child before him must be some ageless fiend who had lived for millennia.

Ning Chan stood up, smoothing out his untouched Holy Son vestments. "Devil? I am the Holy Son you sought, and also Ning Chan, disciple of the Divine Emperor of the Upper Nine Heavens.

"I have come down from the Upper Nine Heavens, hearing of your people’s piety, and borrowed this vessel—Chantulika Ning—to observe.

"If I found promising talents, I would take them to the Upper Nine Heavens to receive divine blessings and eternal life.

"Yet, you dared lay hands on me. Your actions have disappointed me greatly.

"Ah, this place bores me utterly. Perhaps I should just destroy it all."

With a cold laugh, Ning Chan raised his hand, spectral blue flames dancing in his palm.

Miced stared at him, all his previous perverse urges replaced by sheer terror and dread.

This was it—he was about to be reduced to ashes.

What could he do? He didn’t want to die! And now that he had finally met an emissary of the gods, learning of the possibility of immortality, how could death claim him now?

"Lord Holy Son, I was wrong! I should never have harbored such wicked thoughts—please, grant me mercy!

"I was deluded into grievous sin. Punish me harshly, but I beg you to let me live, granting me a chance to atone.

"I will offer everything I have, becoming your most loyal servant.

"I will pledge my life to proclaiming your divine name and faith, until my last gasp."

Ning Chan had been weighing his next words, but he hadn’t expected the man to be so "understanding," prostrating himself with such haste.

However, even if he was eager to offer benefits to himself, he still had to make him sweat a bit.

"Do you truly repent? But what does that matter?

Countless devotees wish to offer tributes to me—what makes you special enough for my mercy?"

Ning Chan tapped the disciplinary rod in his hand against Miced's wounds, acting oblivious to his despair and agony.

Miced, after all, was someone capable of clawing his way to Archbishop. In this desperate, near-death state, his survival mode activated, and his mind raced.

"Your sinful servant, Miced, knows the Holy Church inside out and has pull within it. I can better fulfill your tasks and offer you top-notch service.

Moreover, I sincerely repent for my sins and beg for your mercy to grant me a chance to atone."

Suppressing his pain, Miced kowtowed to Ning Chan, pleading for mercy.

Given his current state, even if Ning Chan stopped tormenting him, he would still be a goner anyway.

Might as well go all in to beg for forgiveness—perhaps there was still a chance to survive.

Only after watching him beg and kowtow for a long while, barely breathing, did Ning Chan "reluctantly" agree to give him a chance.

"If you wish to atone, then show me your grit and sincerity.

This will be an arduous path. If you endure it, I may grant you rebirth.

If you cannot bear it, find a place to die quietly—don't waste my time again."

With a flick of his fingers, Ning Chan sent emerald glow onto Miced’s face and hands. The mangled flesh knit itself back, restoring his original appearance—even making him look slightly younger than before.

Staring at his hands, Miced’s shock deepened. No joke—this guy controlled life and death.

Though his face and hands appeared healed, the agony underneath didn't let up. Unbeknownst to him, this was just a skin-deep fix—the flesh underneath remained ruined.

Miced wanted to beg for more healing, but upon meeting Ning Chan’s cold gaze, he wisely realized that asking for more would be pushing his luck.

With no choice, he stayed kneeling and awaited Ning Chan’s orders.

"Thank you for your grace, Holy Son. I shall arrange better digs for you shortly."

"No rush. All your dwellings are equally crappy to me.

No soft fur blankets, no jade-green moonlit porcelain, no crystal water lamps... worse than a god's doghouse.

Never mind. These can be added later.

For now, there’s another matter I need you to handle.

Since arriving here, I’ve sensed nothing but rotten, evil vibes. Many, like you, are drowning in sin.

They all deserve judgment, but since you will serve me, they might keep their lives—but not their skin.

Tomorrow, select one person, make them swallow the Sin Seed, and bring them before me.

They must confess their crimes, and I shall pass judgment accordingly."

Ning Chan opened his palm, and a glowing green pearl materialized in the air. With a slight tilt of his hand, it fell to the ground, getting dirty.

Clenching his teeth through the pain, Miced picked up the pearl and kowtowed once more in acknowledgment.

As he lowered his head, his eyes went dark with revenge.

So, who should be the first to taste the suffering he endured today?

What about Maifeipu? He seemed to have long had his eye on the throne.