Muttering those words that were hard for others to understand, Jiang Yuan seemed to be scattering a handful of beans into the air!
Those bean-like things kept swelling and taking shape in midair, until the sky itself seemed to hold the faint outline of a lotus.
On every lotus leaf sat one of those “beans,” slowly inflating, growing larger, like blobs of modeling clay.
Each blob of clay shimmered with crystalline divine light, rippling like the surface of water.
Jiang Yuan’s sudden appearance was so unexpected, far beyond what any of the factions present had predicted, that no one dared interrupt him. Everyone wanted to see what this man was doing and what kind of “mission” he might have.
Of course, Pride was an exception. He simply held half a beacon in his hand, flipping it back and forth.
What use was that thing?
......
In the sky, Jiang Yuan repeated that incantation over and over, watching the illusory lotus for any sign of reaction.
Out of the hundreds of “beans,” the majority were extinguishing now, each one falling and dispersing in the air.
Jiang Yuan’s eyes were full of an inextinguishable sorrow as he watched those destroyed, collapsing “beans,” as if he were looking at departed old friends.
He murmured the chant on and on:
“Since the world toppled, I no longer know how much time has passed.”
“The people have become puppets, all truths reduced to prewritten programs.”
“I had no mother; heaven and earth gave me flesh, this world is my mother!”
“I had no soul; the world gave me faith, this realm is my father!”
“I should have died; we should have perished...”
“Only prophecy questioned my heart: after every end, what lies beyond? Are you still willing to shoulder that thin thread of chance and wait for an opportunity?”
More than a spell, it sounded like Jiang Yuan speaking the deepest words from his heart to the world before him.
It was a confession, a plea meant to awaken the memories of the sleeping.
Slowly his tone swelled into fervor; the cadence felt like a war song being sung.
“Now, the time has come!”
“Though the Saints’ followers are lost to all, the Saint Lord has already descended!”
“I am for the Saints! I come to seek that sliver of turning fate!”
“Please, everyone, awaken!”
The last two sentences were almost a hoarse roar from Jiang Yuan, an insane venting after an emotional collapse.
It moved onlookers; even the Sun, a hard-hearted fellow, slightly frowned.
Xie Antong observed Jiang Yuan from beginning to end. Her cautious nature had led her to consider many possibilities.
She even wondered whether this guy might be arranged by the Death Messenger to put on a two-person show.
Yet the emotion radiating from him now did not feel fake...
Someone persisting on thin, intangible faith even after everything has failed still touched her deeply.
As Jiang Yuan continued chanting and finally shouting, a few of the sky’s “beans” trembled faintly, then... were destroyed.
That contrast of hope and annihilation was cruelly ironic.
The Death Messenger even laughed, wanting to mock this bit of performance art.
It was no wonder He paid such attention to Jiang Yuan. After all, Sin was strong, and He had known from the start He would have to deal with him, but Jiang Yuan was a pure accident.
In this paradise, in the game the Divine Messenger set, could there really be such an unexpected variable?
Before the Death Messenger could speak, suddenly one bean began to shake violently and emitted strange noises.
From that twisted yet still roughly spherical bean, several tentacles abruptly burst forth!
Five tentacles flailed and swollen, finally forming a head and four limbs, and then a human silhouette stood suspended in midair!
That moment seemed to accelerate everything.
The beans in the sky started collapsing en masse into flying ash, but gradually some—like that one—began transforming into human forms!
The light slowly dispersed, and finally all the beans completed that mission. In the end, over a dozen human figures hovered in the air.
The rest all shattered!
Almost simultaneously, every defender who had taken form opened their eyes!
A dozen people, including Jiang Yuan, hovered in the sky, each standing at different positions around Lu Ce.
A lingering sadness still stained Jiang Yuan’s face; after so much time, was this truly all that remained?
These newly born—or awakened—people said nothing. They stood like puppets, expressionless.
“I am Jiang Yuan!” Suddenly Jiang Yuan shouted, like a clap of thunder that awakened all the defenders.
“Hail the Saint Lord!”
Unexpectedly, there was no small talk, no reminiscing. His first words were addressed straight to Lu Ce.
In the next instant, a shocking scene unfolded: the newly appeared dozen-some defenders, standing at the high corners of the sky, all turned their gazes to Pride below.
They bowed simultaneously and called out in unison:
“Hail the Saint Lord!”
The scene was stunning, like a religious ceremony; every voice burned with fanatic zeal.
Pride had already fully assumed the posture of the “Saint Lord,” casually waving as if allowing his subjects to rise.
His inner certainty made it seem as if all of this were simply right and ordained.
Jiang Yuan bowed his head, fists clasped against his chest, and spoke to Pride:
“In the Qian spiritual world, only fourteen independent fragmented souls remain, and they now wish to become Saints!”
“We pledge... to be dispatched by the Saint Lord!”
The thirteen around him did not ask about causes or consequences. They bowed their heads and, in perfect unity, roared out the same line:
“We pledge to be dispatched by the Saint Lord!”