Chapter 106
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Chapter 106: Title
Deities cannot save humanity; salvation must come from humanity itself.
After all Michael’s elaborate discourse, this fundamental truth remained his core message.
Perched atop the World Tree, Ye Linlang observed the conversation unfolding like a live broadcast before her. Her eyebrow arched slightly at the notion—she’d never portrayed deities as celestial nannies for mankind.
Should the abyssal invasion strike Blue Star’s world, only its native inhabitants could mount resistance. Deities had never been part of this survival equation.
This simulated invasion had always been integral to Ye Linlang’s designs, though Michael’s unscheduled visit to the human realm proved mildly unexpected—yet still within calculable parameters.
With a flick of her wrist through empty air, miniature figures materialized—ten-centimeter-tall avatars beneath her tracing fingers. The gesture held purpose, not whimsy.
Her original intent for initiating the "Awakening of Spiritual Energy" remained clear: fortify Blue Star against corruption from tainted world fragments while bolstering strategic advantages for future ascensions and assimilations.
The fabricated pantheon of ancient deities served dual purposes—cultural enrichment through manufactured history and psychological reassurance through their conceptual presence, whether manifested or not.
Resurrected historical luminaries, conjured ancient cultivators, and engineered magical species all served to cement the illusion, bridging fabricated mythology with contemporary cultivation systems.
In truth, both Blue Star and Earth existed as magic-barren technological realms. Any deities here were but figments of ancestral imagination, mythologies refined through millennia of retelling.
This deity-free reality favored Ye Linlang’s designs. Had true gods existed, the world consciousness’s mandate for faith propagation would’ve been crushed by divine intervention long before taking root.
Her layered divine personas formed an impeccable facade—interlocking identities leaving no discernible seams. Centuries hence, historical truth would be irrecoverable beneath accumulated legends.
The pantheon already numbered significantly: From the East, the Ghostly Emperor reigning over Yin Officials and hell, Fusang’s Amaterasu, to Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara’s fleeting appearance at Shaolin Temple.
Western manifestations proved subtler—the reclusive God of Light Yahweh, hell’s Lucifer, and the God of Death presiding over Western realm of the dead maintained their obscurity.
Among Blue Star’s two hundred nations, those lacking mythological heritage stumbled first in the spiritual awakening—their disadvantage compounded by derivative or plagiarized mythos too convoluted for practical deification.
A tap on her armrest summoned ethereal plans. The scrolls danced to her mental command, settling upon glowing registers of Eastern and Western deities.
Golden script blazed across the top tier—supreme deities serving as her primary avatars: Emperor of Heaven, Empress Nuwa, Ghostly Emperor; Yahweh, Lucifer, God of Death. Never to be carelessly deployed.
Secondary entries in white glow comprised her sentient creations: Hell’s Seven Deadly Sins, Western Heaven’s Michael, realm of the dead’s Lords of the Dead—artificial yet fully autonomous beings.
Greyed names dominated the list, awaiting activation. This simulated invasion would permit no leniency—its crucible meant to test true mettle.
While political consolidation exceeded her current purview, faith unification remained fair game. Through crafted narratives, she’d seeded hints of divine extinction—a necessary precondition for belief cohesion.
The system harvested emotional resonance from Blue Star’s spiritual awakening, while cultivators generated Fantasy Points through their practice. Belief power remained optional—pleasant surplus rather than necessity.
Eastern systems thrived without devotional energy. Only Yahweh’s persona "required" faith—an expensive gambit given the purification pool’s staggering Fantasy Point cost. She’d gladly welcome reduced belief influx.
Humanity’s history of cults—from Flying Spaghetti Monster adherents to apocalyptic sects—proved belief required no divine justification. Her design therefore limited deities to strategic minimums: supreme figures paired with cultivation frameworks.
Massaging her temples, Ye Linlang murmured, "Faith consolidation wasn’t intended. Yet unchecked proliferation risks spawning actual belief deities—then the world consciousness might truly turn fangs upon me."
The divine paradox loomed—faith’s power to ignite sacred flames and forge divine ranks through cosmic law mastery. For now, equilibrium held. But when crisis came, would intervention become necessary?
So Ye Linlang resolved to eliminate all potential sources of trouble. If the West desired faith, it would be permitted to worship only one deity… This way, spiritual nourishment would remain within their own circle.
Since all divine manifestations were her incarnations, it mattered little which form received devotion.
Humanity invariably turns to deities during calamities, particularly in the Western environment teeming with diverse sects and peculiar cults – an inevitable consequence of their prized "freedom".
"I’ve given you the chance – don’t disappoint me," Ye Linlang murmured, her gaze lingering on the nearby pit brimming with translucent orbs.
The crystalline spheres maintained their original count, undisturbed since their placement. She couldn’t allow humanity to develop delusions of perpetual salvation through mere belief. The Western cultivation methods required urgent dissemination, especially across America… Europe fared better with its demon web and the wizards’ Council of Truth.
Soon both wizards and warriors would emerge, followed by knights and various other professions. America’s excavations likely uncovered something significant.
Narrowing her eyes at the screen displaying two conversing angels, Ye Linlang trusted Heaven’s Mandate would guide them to rescue Western civilization from abyssal creatures when the appointed hour arrived.
Satisfied, she shifted her attention elsewhere.
The screen flickered to reveal an abyssal metropolis.
"Already progressed this far?" she whispered in surprise. Though omniscient in potential, she relied on the system for surveillance – her unaided power barely reached Tier One Pinnacle.
In lightless depths stood an aquatic city, perfectly repelling seawater to preserve its hollow interior. Abandoned dwellings told silent tales of panicked evacuation through scattered remnants.
America had christened this discovery "Atlantis", aligning with legends of the Atlantic’s sunken continent. Yet radiocarbon dating revealed shocking antiquity – this seventy-millennia-old marvel had awaited humanity’s rediscovery beneath eternal waves.
Explorers now approached the city’s heart…
"Magnificent, isn’t it John?" whispered a soldier clad in standard-issue gear, his weapon gleaming. Ahead stretched ranks of similarly equipped troops.
The city’s artistry dazzled – intricate bas-reliefs swirling with forgotten elegance. Whispers of merfolk inhabitants added mythical allure to crystalline spires.
Multiple expeditions had established peripheral bases since discovery, though none dared penetrate deeply. The operational self-defense system remained vigilant against intrusion, its ancient mechanisms still lethal.
After meticulous reconnaissance, this team finally approached the central plaza where tiered steps ascended towards…
"That’s the temple from our submersible footage," confirmed an expert studying his iPad’s sonar images. "The colossal statue above must represent their deity."
Legends spoke of Atlanteans worshipping a sea god. American scholars proposed a compelling theory: these shape-shifting beings between human and merfolk forms coexisted with their divine patron until catastrophic submergence forced aquatic adaptation.
Advanced technology recovered suggested Atlantean civilization surpassed modern achievements. The vast sunken continent defied complete exploration, though peripheral surveys indicated sparse population density.
No skeletal remains endured seven millennia’s corrosive embrace – only architectural marvels testified to their existence.
"Proceeding directly – any risks?" The American general’s brow furrowed as he consulted accompanying scholars.
Their boot soles scraped polished stonework, the towering statue’s shadow looming through aqueous gloom above the ascendant staircase.
