Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Maifeipu, who had just finished a bowl of lentil soup, suddenly felt a chill run down his back. He instinctively glanced around but found no source of cold air.

Ning Chan "casually" noticed his movement, slightly lowering his eyelids as an emerald light shimmered in his eyes before fading away.

After breakfast, Maifeipu took the sacred texts and prepared to head to the confessional but was stopped by Miced along the way.

"Come to the council chamber. There’s a lord you need to meet," Miced said curtly, his expression cold as he looked at Maifeipu, as though resentful that the latter had been given this opportunity.

Seeing Miced’s demeanor, Maifeipu smirked, adjusted his robe, and gave Miced a mock bow.

"As the Archbishop commands."

Tch, this old man is already in his forties and still refuses to step down. Does he plan to die in that position?

No wonder their church’s ranking never improves—it’s all because this old fossil is incompetent.

Still, my name’s already on nobles’ lips. Perhaps it won’t be long before I replace him.

He wondered who this lord was and whether they could bring him more benefits.

With a smile on his face, Maifeipu barged in eagerly, only to find no noble figure inside.

The room was empty except for himself, Miced, and the child seated on the raised dais.

If he remembered correctly, this child was Chantulika Ning, who had only arrived recently and almost wasted away from illness within days.

At the time, he had mourned the pretty thing’s impending death. Who would have thought the boy would bounce back?

What was the meaning of this? Did Miced intend to target Chantulika?

"Holy Son, the guilty Maifeipu has been brought before you."

Maifeipu narrowed his eyes as he watched Miced approach Chantulika Ning, then bow his head respectfully with feigned reverence.

What game was Miced playing? Did this child truly have such a significant background?

Even when the Fourth Prince, Kane.Xiao, arrived, he hadn’t received this kind of treatment.

Baffled, Maifeipu watched as the "Holy Son" raised his hand—and then, excruciating pain erupted from his abdomen.

Maifeipu clutched his stomach and collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony. "Ah! It hurts! What’s happening?"

Sweat poured from his body like rain as he felt something burrowing through him, the pain seeping into every crevice of his bones.

Vision blurred with tears, Maifeipu strained his neck to glare at Ning Chan. "You... did you poison me?!"

Ning Chan, sprawled in a plush velvet chair with one leg crossed over the other, raised an eyebrow at Maifeipu’s garbled accusation. With a flick of his hand, he swiped a hand through the air.

"Poison? If I wanted you dead, would I need such tricks?"

The pain vanished instantly, leaving Maifeipu wide-eyed as he stared at Ning Chan. "Y-you... who are you? A devil?!"

Ning Chan rested his chin on his hand, unamused. These people all said the same thing—was "devil" the only concept they knew? Their imagination was pathetically limited.

Dissatisfied with the response, Ning Chan twitched a finger, and Maifeipu was once again reduced to writhing on the floor. A slight press of his fingers gave Maifeipu a moment’s relief, leaving him gasping for air.

After several rounds, Maifeipu’s crumpled form was drenched—in sweat and probably worse.

Smelling the stench in the air, Ning Chan recalled the crimes this man had committed and gifted him a "vanishing act" package as well.

"I’m hardly a devil, just a guy who stands up for justice, love, and peace.

Just your average guy, no big deal.

Folks like me are a dime a dozen in the Nine Realms... but why bother telling you? With sins this heavy weighing down your souls, you would likely descend straight into hell upon death—boiled alive, frozen till you crack, flayed, bones ground to dust...

Your flesh would rot and heal, heal and rot, endlessly until your punishment is complete.

Don’t worry, I’ve taken a peek at your souls. After just three thousand years of torment, you’ll get a chance to reincarnate into the animal realm.

Still beats being wiped from existence, never to enter the cycle again. At least you’ll still exist."

Ning Chan said it like it was just another Tuesday, making disbelief impossible.

Not just Maifeipu, who had just experienced Ning Chan’s power firsthand, but even Miced, who had already endured it, went white as a sheet.

In these times, making it past forty was a miracle. They had never considered the consequences of their actions being exposed.

The worst they figured was death—lights out, game over.

But now, hearing Ning Chan’s words—hell after death, three thousand years of suffering!

Combined, they hadn’t even lived a hundred years. Three thousand years? Unthinkable.

Since Ning Chan didn’t want Miced to die too quickly, the wounds on his body were covered with a flimsy skin-layer to prevent infection.

If Miced moved too abruptly, this fragile layer would tear, oozing blood.

In just one night, the pain and itch driving him up the wall drove Miced to wish for immediate death.

For a fleeting moment, he thought, *Why not end it all?* He could muster the courage.

But now, he dared not. He feared hell, he was terrified of being stuck in agony, feared three thousand years of torment.

Watching their terrified expressions, Ning Chan seemed to relish it. "Or hey, you could just drop dead right here. Otherwise, once I brand you with the Mark of Judgment, you’ll cut straight to the fun part and dive into the punishments below.

I haven’t even started properly. Once you’re down there, you’ll ‘survive’ long enough to taste every flavor of hell.

Truly, quite fascinating—three millennia in the pits, two thousand as mangy mutts, each cycle offering fresh experiences."

Ning Chan chirped, grinning, while Miced and Maifeipu felt as if their hearts and bodies had been tossed into a frozen lake, their minds numb.

"No, wait! We’ll make it right! We accept your punishment, your guidance, to reform ourselves!" Miced had long forgotten he came to mock Maifeipu. Now, he only wanted to pledge loyalty to Ning Chan, hoping to avoid suffering after death.

He didn’t even dare hope for better treatment in life.

Maifeipu, half-dead from Ning Chan’s games, weakly crawled up and knelt, smacking his head on the ground.

*This sly bastard moves quick—trying to win favor with this lord first?*

*So cunning!*

"We’re yours to command, accept your transformation, and swear never to betray your faith!"

After decades of playing at divinity, they had finally met a true god. His methods left them utterly awed, with no will to resist.

Faced with their endless flattery and piled-up praises, Ning Chan tapped the armrest with a finger, letting out a sharp *tap*.

I know my own capabilities well. Although with my current superpower, taking out ten or so scumbags isn’t difficult, if the numbers grow and my superpower is exhausted, I’d be a sitting duck.

They say even a hero can’t withstand a pack of wolves, let alone me—I’m not a hero, just a child. So I must plan carefully, lying low while building strength.

To conserve his superpower, the "evil seed" Ning Chan gave Miced was actually a mixture of his blood and condensed wooden orbs.

It worked like a receiver for punishment—just a tiny bit of superpower could activate it to connect with surrounding wood elements.

At such times, Maifeipu would feel tiny shoots ripping through his flesh and meridians, causing excruciating pain.

Moreover, bodies pierced by wood elements would gradually stiffen under prolonged elemental erosion, turning plant-like.

"Then show me what you're made of." Ning Chan casually tossed three green beads, which landed right in front of Miced.

Miced swallowed hard, scooped up the three beads, and carefully placed them into a small pouch from his pocket. "Yes, as my Lord commands."

Still somewhat confused, Maifeipu watched the blend of malice and fanaticism in Miced’s eyes, feeling increasingly anxious.

What should he do? He didn’t even know where to start.

"What does Lord Holy Son want us to do?" Maifeipu bore through jolts of pain as he moved closer to Miced.

Lord Holy Son had left, and he didn’t dare stop him to ask how to prove himself. But this bastard was still around, wasn’t he?

The things he had done, that old fiend had done ten times worse. They were both scumbags—why should Miced get to understand Lord Holy Son even a little first?

Because he’s ruthless? Because he’s older?

"Archbishop, do you know what Lord Holy Son gave us? And what did he mean by ‘performance’—how does he want us to prove ourselves?"

Seeing Maifeipu shamelessly asking him, Miced felt a smug satisfaction.

He smirked to himself, unwilling to engage. Why should he tell Maifeipu about Lord Holy Son’s plans and let him compete for credit?

As for the beads’ purpose, he hadn’t known before, but now he saw it clearly.

He wondered whether Maifeipu’s current suffering was worse than what he had endured.

"Why the third degree? You’ll find out in a few days."

Seeing Miced’s smug expression, Maifeipu wanted to shiv him.

But the impression they’d left on Lord Holy Son was already poor. If he caused more trouble now, he might be tossed into hell for eternal damnation.

Fine. He’d endure this bastard for now.

Keen to curry favor with Ning Chan, Miced soon gave Maifeipu a taste of the beads’ power.

Well, now they were both sinners seeking redemption in this world—it was just a matter of who could perfectly meet Lord Holy Son’s demands.

Look at Miced—his "excellent" performance in executing the "evil seed" mission had even restored his rotted hide. Maybe he could clean his slate before dying and avoid further punishment in hell.

Though Maifeipu and the others envied him, Miced couldn’t let on about his agony—his hide might look whole, but the flesh beneath was still rotting!

As for Ning Chan, after fully controlling the church’s upper echelons, he finally had the confidence to roll out his "New World Order" scheme.