Chapter 518, Section 517: Two Cults

The western coast of the kingdom, an occupied territory.

Amidst the ruins, a tall pig-man struggled to prop himself up, his coarse bristles covered in sand and dried blood scabs. He was the leader of a squad of more than ten pig-men.

Now, in this occupied area, there are many unorganized demon teams like his.

They were not a regular army; they were merely taking advantage of the chaos caused by the collapse of human defenses to capture prisoners.

Without the support of a large demon army, this endeavor is naturally extremely dangerous.

But those who step into this place are either confident enough in their own strength and intelligence, or like him, they have no other choice.

Duke Xenophon of the Pigmen died in battle, dealing a heavy blow to the Pigmen forces within the Empire.

In addition, Xenophon had made considerable mistakes in the war, and after his death, apart from a small private plot, the rest of his fiefdoms were either taken back by the emperor or divided up and devoured by neighboring lords.

Countless pig-people lost their support and had to find their own way to survive.

Unwilling to become cannon fodder with no hope, like some of his kin, he gathered a group of compatriots willing to follow him and came to the west coast, hoping to make some money through this dangerous business.

But he failed.

The last image he remembered was of the prisoners being escorted back to the port, with several blazing fireballs erupting from the dilapidated buildings on either side, sealing off all his escape routes.

The pig-man shook his heavy head violently, and as his vision gradually cleared, he saw a prison wagon surrounded by iron bars. He quickly recognized it as the prison wagon he used to hold human prisoners.

The initial thought was, why didn't those humans kill him on the spot, but instead captured him?

Humans don't use demon prisoners.

But when his gaze fell into the cell next door, he saw not his pig-man subordinates, but the human prisoners he had personally captured a few days ago!

They were not released, and were even still in shackles.

One of the thin men met his gaze, and a slow smile spread across his lips.

It wasn't the joy of being rescued, but a twisted smile of vengeful satisfaction after being immersed in despair.

He propped himself up, his gaze passing over the edge of the prison van, and finally saw the true faces of the escort team.

A line of silent figures in black robes walked through the ruins, their faces hidden by hoods.

However, even dressed like this, the pigmen could still immediately recognize the demonic features on several of the members.

A team composed of a mixed group of humans and demons?!

What shocked him even more was that he saw a familiar figure!

In an instant, he realized that the attack on his team was not an accident.

"Towerbone!" he growled, "It was you! You lured the enemy here?!"

The figure paused slightly, slowly turned around, and pulled down the hood.

A young pig-man's face appeared; it was one of his subordinates in charge of reconnaissance.

Tower Bone's eyes were unusually calm: "It's me, Captain."

"Why?" The pig-man captain leaned forward frantically, the iron bars creaking, spittle flying everywhere. "Why did you betray your own people? Why the hell did you?"

"For redemption, Captain. For all of us to find true happiness in the afterlife!" Tower Bone's eyes held a kind of almost pious clarity, and his answer sent chills down the pigman captain's spine.

"The afterlife? The Hand of the Dead?!" Even in the Empire, the Hand of the Dead was infamous.

After all, even Eleanor, who tamed blood beasts using cruel methods, was driven by profit and had a logical motivation for her cruelty.

But the Hands of the Dead are different. These mentally ill beings, while chanting about a blissful afterlife, commit one horrific massacre after another, simply to offer sacrifices to their gods.

Even demons wouldn't like this kind of crazy group.

Realizing what had happened to them, the pig-man fiercely resisted.

With a series of muffled cracking sounds from bones and the tearing sound of muscles expanding, his already large body swelled up again, the blood vessels under his thick skin bulged like earthworms, his fangs pierced his lower lip and dripped blood, and the cage gradually deformed under the pigman captain's violent power.

With a roar, the iron bars flew off, and the pigman captain stepped out of the broken cage, slapping the charging Towerbone hard across the face.

The young pig-man flew out like a kite with a broken string, crashed into a tree trunk, and slumped down.

Without even glancing at the others, the pig-man captain's crimson eyes swept across the other prison carts, his enormous hands gripping the bars and tearing at them with all his might.

Whether the prisoners inside were terrified and cowering human captives or excited pig-man kin, the cages were destroyed one by one by his brute force.

Screams, cries, and angry shouts erupted instantly, creating complete chaos.

He did this not out of kindness, but because he knew that only greater chaos could disrupt the black-robed madmen's formation and give him a chance to survive.

Some retaliated by lunging at the cult members, while others panicked and ran into the forest.

Just as the chaos reached its peak, the pigman captain prepared to escape.

"Quiet."

A girl's voice rang out. It wasn't loud, it was even quite soft, yet it instantly drowned out all the noise.

Those prisoners who had just been crying, running away, and resisting suddenly seemed to have their souls ripped out. Their eyes went vacant, and they collapsed limply to the ground, falling into a deep sleep.

The pig-man captain also felt a sudden heaviness in his head, as if struck by a heavy blow. His massive body swayed violently, his forward momentum came to an abrupt halt, and he staggered two steps before falling to the ground, his heavy breathing accompanied by dizzy groans.

His dazed mind tried to comprehend what had just happened.

Sonic attack?

wrong!

Those cult members were not affected.

Taking advantage of the pigman captain's exhaustion and fall, they pounced on him and pinned him to the ground.

The girl who had spoken earlier slowly walked up to him, her slender white fingers pulling down her hood.

A face belonging to a human girl, even with a touch of childishness, was revealed.

Her eyes were exceptionally bright, as if reflecting the blue moon in the sky.

All the black-robed cultists present, whether human or demon, looked at her with fanaticism.

"High Priest!" they whispered.

The girl crouched down and calmly looked at the pigman captain who was being held down on the ground.

She reached out and gently cupped his blood-stained, dust-covered, and grotesquely twisted face in her hands, her movements as tender as if she were touching a fragile treasure.

“Hush… poor child, soul lost in the thorns of life…” Her voice was ethereal and elusive, with a strange rhythm. “Why struggle? This rough body, this endless longing and anger, this pain of separation and loss… are nothing but heavy burdens on the path of reincarnation.”

The pig-man captain struggled out of the dizziness of the mental shock and roared furiously, "Kill me if you want! Stop trying to seduce me, you damn lunatics!"

He suddenly shook his head and bit half of the girl's hand. The hand was so delicate that he only needed to exert a little force to bite it off, and the smell of blood immediately filled his mouth and nose.

The girl seemed not to feel any pain, and her gaze softened even more as she looked at him: "Look how tired you are. Fighting, plundering, fear, betrayal... the living carry so much dust, trudging futilely in an endless cycle."

Her tone gradually softened, as if she were singing a lullaby: "Death is not the end, but a new beginning. There, there is no distinction of race, no distinction of strength or weakness, no entanglement of pain and pleasure... only pure 'nothingness'."

As she whispered and stroked, a strange sensation began to spread.

The pig captain's anger, fear, and physical pain all dissipated quietly, like the receding tide.

A deep and irresistible weariness washed over him, as if he had walked a thorny path for a thousand years and finally seen a soft bed to lie on.

As the girl's prayer drew to a close, her voice grew softer, almost merging with the night breeze: "...Therefore, we, the hands that guide the departed, lead the lost souls. Free them from the shackles of this world, and let them return to peaceful slumber. When the bell of reincarnation tolls again... you will have a lighter journey."

The last syllable falls.

The pig captain's crimson eyes had long since lost focus, becoming empty and peaceful.

His heavy breathing stopped, his tense muscles completely relaxed, and his ferocious face softened into a peaceful, baby-like expression.

The enormous head was cradled in the girl's blood-soaked hands. Her chest rose and fell one last time before falling silent again.

The girl withdrew her hand, and with her intact fingertip, she gently touched his closed eyelids one last time, like a mark of blessing.

She stood up, her black robe billowing in the wind, her gaze sweeping over the sleeping offerings on the ground.

“Prepare the ceremony,” she instructed. “We need to save more people in order to hear the Lord’s words again!”

...

Meanwhile, in Mushroom Capital.

There's also a cult here holding an evil ritual—a group of people are praying to a poop.

There were no prayers; it was mostly just people muttering "good things" to themselves.

After the prayer, Julia, the original leader of the Bagu Cult, took the ordinary Puji off the stage and let it run away on its own.

Julia then blew out the candles in the room and shared the large pot of fluorescent mushroom soup she had cooked with everyone, using the glow of the soup as a guide.

During communion, a believer suggested that they should find a real mushroom to worship.

Julia agreed with this opinion, but the problem was that all the known mushroom tribes were in the hands of the kingdom, and they didn't know where to find wild mushroom tribes.

Everyone offered their opinions. Some suggested looking in the dungeon, others suggested praying to the Fungal Creep God to grant them a Mushroom Clan member, and still others boldly proposed contacting the kingdom's known Mushroom Clan members, risking being targeted.

For those who believe in the Puji, the Mushroom Clan must be the messengers of the Puji God. Gaining the Mushroom Clan's approval is crucial for the internal cohesion of the Mushroom Worship Cult.

They envisioned a future led by the Mushroom Clan, and even though it was just a dream for now, they were still incredibly excited.

However, just as the discussion was reaching its most heated moment, a series of orderly footsteps came from outside.

(End of this chapter)