Chapter 115: You Wouldn’t Want Your God to Suffer...

Chapter 115: Chapter 115: You Wouldn’t Want Your God to Suffer...

DA-DA-DA-DI-DA-DA!

DOO-ROO-ROO-ROO-ROO...

In the distance, a procession of several thousand people and horses advanced, playing suonas as they made their way over.

The music was desolate, sorrowful, and solemn, like a funeral dirge thick with grief.

"Our divine lord must have beaten that little scoundrel Fang Can to his knees by now."

Atop a reddish-brown steed, the man who led Wan Chenyu’s followers smiled.

Another Martial Artist beside him shook his head and chuckled. "Of course. That scoundrel Fang Can has only been practicing martial arts for a little over a month. How could he possibly stand against the power of a god?"

"I think this is all a bit of an overreaction. He’s just a genius, that’s all. Was it really worth us coming all the way from the Capital City for this?"

"Hey, watch your words. A god’s thoughts are not for the likes of us to fathom. We just need to carry out his orders."

...

The Martial Artists chatted and laughed as they traveled, closing the distance as they spoke. Gazing at Fang Can’s procession in the distance, the leader of the followers frowned. "Why is that procession so calm?"

This wasn’t the first time Wan Chenyu had shattered another’s faith in their god.

Every time he had destroyed a god before, the followers would wail as if their own parents had died. Why was it so quiet this time?

"Could something have gone wrong?" a Martial Artist beside him asked.

"Absolutely not!" the middle-aged Martial Artist in the lead said with a frown. "I’ll go up and take a look."

As he spoke, seemingly finding his steed too slow, he vaulted off his horse and approached the opposing divine procession amidst the howling wind.

But as he drew closer, his heart sank. Hanging from a distant flagpole were four Martial Artists, dried out like cured meat.

Three of them, by their appearance, were fellow believers of his god, their expressions listless.

The fourth person’s face was so sunken that his features were completely unrecognizable.

’That must be the divine lord’s friend, Li Xiangyang,’ the man hoped, but a terrible premonition was already rising from the bottom of his heart.

Wan Chenyu—the one the man had mistaken for Li Xiangyang—had his eyes burst and could see nothing, but the sound of the suonas in the distance filled him with utter terror.

A man as proud as he, how could he possibly endure such humiliation?

In the modern world, some people would rather confess to a crime than have their browsing history exposed.

For someone as arrogant as Wan Chenyu, being seen by his followers in such a pathetic state was a fate worse than death.

"Halt, divine procession! I am a follower of the god Wan Chenyu! Can you tell me where our god has gone?"

A familiar voice came from not far away, making Wan Chenyu’s heart stop. He felt like he’d just been caught red-handed.

"Wait, you boy on the sedan chair! What you’re holding is my Lord’s divine artifact! What have you done to our Lord!"

"Young Hero Li, why are you with Fang Can’s procession too?"

In the utter darkness, the inquiries and accusations struck Wan Chenyu’s soul like heavy hammers. The boomerang he had thrown earlier had just come back and hit him square in the forehead.

The tables had now turned.

’Stop asking, stop asking, stop asking! Just go away! Just pretend this was all a misunderstanding...’

Wan Chenyu began to pray in his heart, but things rarely go as one wishes.

"Oh... you really don’t know where your divine lord is?"

Fang Can’s playful voice sounded next to Wan Chenyu’s ear. "Or are you just deceiving yourself, thinking that piece of cured meat isn’t your master?"

"RAAAGH! You damnable heretic! How dare you insult my Lord!"

Next to Wan Chenyu’s ear, the follower’s furious roar was followed a second later by a dull THUD.

From his experience in the Martial Dao, he could tell that his follower had tried to leap over to rescue him, only to be struck down by a Martial Artist.

"You’re the ones who came looking for trouble. The way you talk, it’s as if I’m the one bullying you. And now you’re acting all aggrieved?"

Fang Can’s wild, arrogant voice came out of the darkness. That was the kind of arrogance that should have been his, but now it was just grating to the ear.

"So what? This was a head-on clash. You think you can just take your master back?"

The chanting and recitation all around continued, while the suonas in the distance grew ever louder. Suddenly, Wan Chenyu heard a loud THUD.

In reality, Fang Can stared, somewhat stunned, at the middle-aged man kneeling before him.

"I beg you, Young Hero Fang, please spare my Lord."

The middle-aged man knelt on both knees, his words sincere. "I, and all of my Lord’s followers, are willing to take his place in suffering. We only ask for your mercy."

As he spoke, the middle-aged man kowtowed loudly several times right in front of Fang Can.

Those who worship a god stake their entire being on them.

This was a conviction more steadfast than any oath, and no matter how broken their deity became, the faithful had no choice but to follow them to the bitter end.

If they betrayed their oath, in the best-case scenario, their Dao Heart would shatter and they would go mad. In the worst, their entire cultivation would be crippled.

And so, with Wan Chenyu captured, the middle-aged follower unhesitatingly cast aside his own dignity to beg Fang Can.

For a worshipper, everything about their god was more important than themselves.

"Tsk, how boring." Fang Can’s initially intrigued gaze turned calm.

Looking at the kneeling man with an indifferent gaze, Fang Can said, "This isn’t the first time your god has done something like this, is it?"

The man froze, wanting to say something but finding no words to argue.

Seeing the speechless follower, Fang Can understood. He said coolly, "In that case, when the followers of other gods knelt before you, how did you treat them?"

As the two spoke, the followers in the distance had already noticed the situation. At least several dozen Heart Image Martial Artists were rushing toward them.

Glancing disdainfully at the distant Heart Image Martial Artists, Fang Can waved his hand dismissively. "I’ll leave these guys to you."

"If they dare to act up," Fang Can said, pointing at the hanging Wan Chenyu, "just beat their god. Beat him until he’s smoking."

With that, Fang Can turned and walked back into the sedan chair. His good mood had been ruined by this bunch.

’I was expecting a real knock-down-drag-out fight, but they just drop to their knees and beg for mercy. So pathetic. It’s disgusting.’

Watching the figure disappear behind the curtain, Ye Yonglie couldn’t help but sigh. "The Master still lacks experience in the martial world. He’s too merciful."

"Since that’s the case, the martial world is a treacherous place. We’ll handle the things our god can’t bring himself to do." Saying this, Ye Yonglie looked at the kneeling heretic.

"My god has already beaten your Evil God to his knees. It’s absolutely impossible for us to release you before we reach the Capital City. But this is just the beginning."

As he finished, Ye Yonglie smiled. "You wouldn’t want your god to suffer even more painful treatment, would you?"

"In that case, you can start contributing. Your martial arts manuals, Heart Methods, farmlands, land deeds... hand them all over as ransom."

At this, Ye Yonglie smiled at the heretic’s humiliated gaze. "If you don’t agree, I can’t guarantee what will happen to your god."

"I... I understand." Faced with coercion, the heretic was forced to lower his head.