Chapter 30

Chapter 30

McCann, who was being "escorted" out by his attendants, suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, as if he had "predicted" the ominous turn of fate beginning to play. He couldn't help but shiver.

He glanced around but found nothing unusual.

"Was it the weather..." Looking up at the blazing sun in the sky, McCann couldn't bring himself to say the word "cold." Had he imagined it?

At this moment, he had no idea that a few microscopic glowing particles had drifted down his throat into his lungs and were now clinging to his blood vessels, slowly sprouting roots.

During this time, Ning Chan had been visiting the "Sacred Plant Garden" daily, infusing the plants with his Wood-element Superpower, and had finally produced some notable creations.

One of them was the mutated milk mushroom. These grew on growth medium bags, small and round with a milky-white appearance—deceptively harmless-looking.

Their growth cycle was short, and they propagated quickly. Just a small spoonful of spores could yield a large patch of milk mushrooms, without losing nutritional content.

However, their drawback was obvious: they couldn’t compare to the original milk mushrooms in flavor.

If an ordinary milk mushroom could be stewed into a rich, creamy broth with an irresistible aroma and exquisite taste, then the mutated version was like taking the same pot, adding water, and giving it a second boiling—watery in appearance, weak in scent, and bland in taste, not even a tenth as good as the original.

And in the mung bean and cream ice cakes Ning Chan had prepared for them, these mutated milk mushrooms from the Sacred Plant Garden had been mixed in.

These mushrooms were extremely virulent. Even when ground into powder, as long as Ning Chan used his Wood-element Superpower to activate their unbroken cells, they could absorb nutrients from their surroundings to sustain themselves. If Ning Chan didn’t activate them, they would be digested like ordinary plants.

However, because they were forcibly activated, their condition was highly unstable. If removed from their familiar growing environment, they would quickly perish from inability to adapt.

In other words, Ning Chan had activated the "mad mushrooms" inside McCann White’s body. They were now desperately absorbing nutrients from him to survive—until his death.

If McCann wanted to escape this predicament, he had only two options: either ask Ning Chan to remove the mushroom spores for him or wait until they fully matured before having them surgically excised.

The former was out of the question—Ning Chan had no intention of helping him. With plenty of scum still at his disposal, Ning Chan was more interested in nurturing ordinary people to help them grow.

As for the latter, even if McCann eventually noticed something was wrong with his body, what could he do? Have someone cut open his chest and dig out the fungal threads?

Perhaps there were a few "church healers" skilled in surgical procedures, but even if they cut him open, would they know how to stitch him back up?

In any case, McCann’s participation in the auction was destined to end in death, with a maximum of five days left.

Unaware that he was "enjoying" the last pleasures of his life, McCann White was busy ordering his subordinates to buy cake—he was completely obsessed with the sweet little treat.

Unfortunately, just thirty portions were available each at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He wasn’t sure if they could still get any now.

When the recipes had been announced earlier, he’d heard that one of them was for cake. Sadly, he’d been outbid by Earl Darren, who secured the recipe.

Perhaps he could approach Earl Darren and ask if the cream cake recipe could be sold separately. He couldn’t afford all ten culinary methods, but surely one wouldn’t be too much?

Though he adored biscuits, profiteroles, pasta, pizza... none could compare to his true love: cream cake.

When a servant returned after paying through the nose for a cream cake from someone else, McCann was forcing himself on a woman beneath him.

His rough movements and massive frame left her struggling to breathe.

Just as she thought she might die, the servant entered with the cake. McCann shoved her aside, muttering "like a dead fish," and turned his attention to the dessert, ignoring her completely.

The woman lay on the bed with empty eyes, staring out the window, longing to jump.

But the windows here were barred. Trapped like a bird in a cage, she was confined inside—until death.

When I was taken away, little Laura had just learned to call for her mother. I wonder how she looks now—hopefully she takes after her father, with ordinary features, and nothing like me.

McCann scarfed down the cake on the table. He had intended to continue entertaining himself with the woman, but for some reason, his eyelids kept drooping as if his body was utterly exhausted.

Perhaps he had tired himself out wandering around all day. Besides, that woman was nothing but a pretty face, lay stiff as a board in bed—utterly uninteresting.

If the other women hadn’t died along the way, he wouldn’t have had to settle for her.

Oh well. After a nap, he’d check if this city had any better picks.

If not, he thought boys would do just fine—like the two he’d seen at the auction earlier. They were real lookers.

Other churches let their Lord Holy Son "cleanse" evil for their followers. He wondered if the one here had learned those techniques.

If he performed well, McCann could introduce Lis Church to more nobles and help bump up its rep.

With such arrogant thoughts in mind, the next day, McCann White arrived at the church and expressed his wishes to Miced.

Miced looked at McCann like he was a dead man walking.

*What lowlife dirtbag dares to lust after our Lord Holy Son? Do you have a death wish?*

From the Archbishop down to the priests, they were all fanatical devotees for their god. Perhaps their past actions had been mixed with selfish crap, but the doctrines they received had always been this way—never once did they consider they might be wrong.

Later, even when they realized something was amiss, they were already too deep in the gutter to break free.

They couldn’t—and didn’t want to—deny any of it, letting their cravings run wild, deceiving others and themselves alike.

It wasn’t until Ning Chan appeared, blowing their minds, that they understood just how wrong their doctrines had been—and how grave their sins truly were.

Just a month ago, the Lord Holy Son had shown them how messed up this world was and how "lucky" they were to have their current lives.

They could have been good people, walking the righteous path—if only they hadn’t cracked under pressure and been led astray by a false god!

Even now, it was too late, but they were still grateful to the Lord Holy Son for guiding lost lambs like them back to righteousness.

Ning Chan, however, worried that these men might blab secrets if left too long with outsiders—or worse, secretly conspire against him.

So, he called them in for a little "brainwashing."

"Do you know why I’ve called you here today?"

The group, already overwhelmed by their recent duties, shot each other confused glances. Was there another task assigned to them?

Ning Chan didn’t actually expect an answer—it was just an opening line. He quickly continued on his own.

"I’ve been here for months now, and I’ve found something that’s got no business being here. And it is because of *Him* that your sins run so deep."

"What?" The crowd erupted in shock. Besides the Lord Holy Son, was there something else here?

They scanned the room like mad, as if trying to see what Ning Chan was pointing at, but found nothing.

"You are regular folks, lacking the True Eyes to see through illusions. Of course, you cannot perceive its presence. But through sacred fire, I can reveal a trace of it."

With a flick of his finger, a tiny fireball hovered midair. The moment it touched something unseen, the flames suddenly flared, and within them, a distorted black shadow writhed, fighting to break free.

"Holy hell—what *is* that?!"

"A demon! That’s gotta be a demon!"

"How terrifying, how evil!"

The few closest to the flames stumbled backward several steps, huddling together as if sharing body heat could slightly ease the fear in their hearts.

Ning Chan noticed that some among them had peed themselves in fright, and his eyelids twitched. With him around, did they really need to be this scared?

Had those men known of Ning Chan’s disdain, they would have cried injustice—Lord Holy Son, it wasn’t that they were afraid, but ever since *that* was gone, they couldn’t control their reflexes. The smallest scare made them piss themselves.

They had always known the Lord Holy Son valued cleanliness, so they secretly changed their trousers daily, ensuring they were presentable before daring to approach.

This time, they had simply been startled and lost control.

Ning Chan had already set the atmosphere—how could he now say, "Go change your pants and then come back"? He could only let it slide, keeping his distance.

Playing with a sachet to subtly cover the stench, Ning Chan glanced at them and flicked his fingers, making the flames shrink back.

"This is the shadow left behind by a demon god passing through. It sows demon seeds in people, which inflame their desires endlessly, leading them step by step into hell."

Maifeipu and the rest didn’t know if they had demon seeds in their bodies, but they knew they had the Seeds of Judgment Ning Chan had given them.

Though these seeds brought them endless suffering and pure hatred, somehow, right now, they felt a faint gratitude for their existence.

"Lord Holy Son, do we also have demon seeds in us?" Miced was the only one among them who hadn’t been implanted with a Seed of Judgment. Feeling exposed, he nearly begged Ning Chan for one.

With the Lord Holy Son’s divine artifact in them, no way demon seeds could survive, right?

Ning Chan observed their anxious expressions, lowered his gaze slightly, and nodded.

"Oh no—what now?"

"Lord Holy Son, save us! We don’t want to go to hell!"

"Lord Holy Son, I’ve been on my best behavior lately—I even helped an old woman grind beans to make tofu! I want to spend the rest of my life as a good person, not become prey to the demon god!"

Who would’ve thought Han Ang Li would bring that up? Was that even worth bragging about?

"I helped Peter repair his pigpen! And I cleaned out the old folks’ piss pots in his village!"

"I—I saved a child in the Baili River and didn’t take a single copper from their family!"

They clamored to recount their good deeds, they went pale just hearing *hell*.

Their current suffering was temporary, but going there meant endless torment.

"Quiet down. Since I’ve told you this, naturally, I have a solution."

"Demon seeds are easily stimulated by wealth, power, and lust. As long as you organize the Charity Sale properly, when a mountain of gold and silver appears in the church, the seeds’ll go wild and show themselves. And then—" Ning Chan paused, watching their eager faces before continuing leisurely, "I’ll have the Seeds of Judgment lock onto them and devour them."

"But—Lord Holy Son, I haven’t been given a Seed of Judgment yet." Seeing how effective the Seeds of Judgment were against demon seeds, Miced panicked—without one, wasn’t he doomed?

"That depends on your performance. Do well, and I’ll grant you a Seed of Judgment. Do poorly, and you won’t last the winter—then prepare to deal with devils for millennia."

"Their methods are far crueler than mine. A taste of it would wreck you."

Ning Chan pondered the most vile tortures imaginable, figuring he should spell out what *true agony* meant.

Compared to those horrors, they would realize just how *merciful* a "god" he was.

He was simply too *soft-hearted*—even after all their mistakes, he *couldn’t bring himself* to punish them with such methods.