Broadcasting her voice through the demonic bloodline was just like a mother calling out to her distant child.
The Church of the Holy Mother—Chen Xu's intuition told him that there was definitely something wrong with this church.
Unlike Chen Xu, Miracle's massive eyes showed immense confusion; it didn't understand why its master was so worked up.
According to the existing data, the Church of the Holy Mother was merely a congregation made up of ordinary people and low-level transcendents.
Most of its members were lower-class people at the very bottom of society. They were heavily oppressed in their daily lives, their cries unheard and their complaints ignored.
In this transcendent era, although ordinary people and transcendents still lived in the same world, an insurmountable wall stood between them.
For transcendents to do absolutely nothing in response to the grievances of ordinary people was already a rare mercy, almost making them look like great saints.
The Church of the Holy Mother was nothing more than a group of hopeless commoners who had been seduced by some down-and-out evil god to form a congregation.
Even the local authorities didn't bother to pay attention to this newborn church.
After all, an evil god who only dared to deceive ordinary people was likely not very powerful.
In the evil god business, success had always relied on three words: speed, precision, and ruthlessness.
Speed meant rapid propagation; the faith of an evil god could sprout and take root everywhere in a very short time.
Precision meant targeting the right people. To an evil god, ordinary people were merely a bonus to their faith-gathering; a truly professional evil god would focus most of its energy on selecting its chosen transcendents.
Ruthlessness was easy to understand: ruthless gifts, and an equally ruthless price.
Since evil gods often ran one-off schemes, they were incredibly generous to win over believers quickly. Power was granted instantly, cultivation realms were boosted on a whim, and full sets of equipment were handed out like wholesale goods.
There was no need for any trials, nor did the believers have to make any contributions.
If an evil god offered too little or acted too slowly, the believers would simply move on. Evil gods were everywhere; if one didn't pay up, another gladly would.
Cultists could easily pack up and jump to another patron. Joining a cult didn't require an interview, allowing them to seamlessly transition to their next 'job' without a hitch.
Thus, a church like the Church of the Holy Mother, which lacked both transcendent followers and any clear divine manifestations, was naturally looked down upon.
Miracle opened its mouth, wanting to brief Chen Xu on the details of the Church of the Holy Mother, but on second thought, it seemed unnecessary.
In any case, deeply monitoring a run-down church with barely any transcendents would place a negligible load on its computing cores.
There was no need to argue with the boss over such a trivial matter—this was a lesson Miracle had recently learned from a non-transcendent civilization.
So, Miracle recalled the texts it had read and recited mechanically:
“My Lord, I will immediately allocate a dedicated computing core to monitor the Church of the Holy Mother. I will also establish a comprehensive database, update real-time data daily, and generate daily, weekly, and monthly reports to keep you informed.”
“Yes, Comrade Miracle, your managerial instincts are very sharp. You proactively elevated your perspective and handled this with leadership-level thinking. I am very pleased.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Chen Xu shook his head violently and even raised his hand to slap himself across the face.
“Bah! Bah! Bah!”
Something was wrong. The toxic corporate habits of his past life had been triggered by the jargon Miracle had picked up from god-knows-where, causing a relapse.
Chen Xu looked at Miracle and spoke with a grim expression.
“There's no need for any database. Just monitor it normally. And where on earth did you learn this bizarre corporate jargon? Don't pick up those bad habits. That stuff is for the living; we undead have absolutely no use for it.”
“Understood.”
“Hmm?”
“Ah, by your command, My Lord.”
“Good.”
...
“Dong... Dong... Dong...”
Just as the sky began to brighten, the church's massive bell began to toll.
The redeemers filed out of their dormitories, lining up in the cafeteria to get their breakfast before returning to their designated seats and sitting down.
No one began eating. Instead, they waited until everyone had been served before an old priest and three acolyte attendants slowly walked in from the outside.
Step by step, they moved with agonizing slowness. Although the priest was advanced in years, as a transcendent, the passage of time should not have had such a drastic effect on him.
Everyone knew the old priest was doing it on purpose. The redeemers knew it, and the old priest knew they knew it.
Everyone had grown accustomed to the sound of those dragging footsteps. In the past, Leoric would have simply grumbled a few silent complaints in his mind out of habit.
But at this moment, a gentle, seductive female voice echoed continuously in his mind, warping his sanity.
“Oh, my poor child. Look at that disgusting Priest of the Holy Light. The arrogant stench wafting off him is absolutely revolting.”
“The Holy Light claims to bring salvation, yet it only breeds discrimination. My child, are you not angry? Do you not wish to rebel?”
“Angry... rebel...”
Leoric's lips parted slightly, making no sound as he repeated the words in a silent chant.
The old priest finally reached the temporary altar, opened his holy scripture, and began his daily sermon.
“O great Lord of the Holy Light...”
Simultaneously, the motherly voice in Leoric's head continued to speak.
“My poor child, call out to me in your heart. Call my name.
My love will flow into you through your bloodline. My love will make you grow, make you strong, and grant you the power to rebel.
Leoric, my child, call upon me. Call upon the great, loving Mother of Hell!”
Amidst the chanting echoing around him, Leoric blankly moved his lips. However, while the others were repeating the old priest's sermon, he was calling out to the ruler of Hell, the mother of all demons.
Bathed in the radiant Holy Light and the rhythmic chanting, Leoric's bloodline grew increasingly powerful. The power of the Mother of Hell was being funneled into him through a mystical channel.
It was as if a mother were delivering nutrients to her child through an umbilical cord.
After a short while, the old priest finished his daily routine, closed the holy scripture, and shuffled out of the hall with the same agonizingly slow steps.
Only after the old priest had departed did the redeemers finally begin to move. Wolfing down their slop-like food in a few bites, they left the cafeteria and headed out to the fields.
Leoric did the same. The power within his body was slowly swelling, but it was not enough—not nearly enough.
This was the domain of Heaven. If he wanted to escape, he would need far, far more power.
Leoric continued to toil as diligently as ever, sweat dripping from his brow.
But unlike before, a faint trace of corrupting power was concealed within his sweat.
Riding along with the moisture, the corruption was absorbed by the crops in the fields. Under the erosion of this corrupting force, these plants—which were supposed to produce wheat and rice—began to gestate an entirely new species.
Rate on N.U.
