Chapter 275: Every Man an Enemy of the Nation
To ensure that people's nerves wouldn't grow desensitized to constant, identical stimulation, Ning Yan Huo set the curse's activation period to halt for fifteen minutes every fifteen minutes, and each time, it would manifest in a different location.
It was precisely this utterly ruthless curse that, after half a day, left the vast majority of people with no good skin left on their bodies, having scratched themselves raw.
The terrifying itch spread despair. Although in essence it couldn't inflict much harm, let alone kill, that bone-deep itch was simply more than an ordinary person's willpower could endure. Every injury on their bodies was self-inflicted.
In some remote towns and villages, the situation was even graver.
Lacking enough priests to control the situation, all production ground to a halt. Entire families, old and young, could only huddle inside their homes, silently enduring this torment.
With intense itching erupting every fifteen minutes, no one had any mind for work.
After a few rounds of experimentation, almost everyone understood: the curse's activation interval was only fifteen minutes. They had to complete all sorts of essential tasks within those fifteen minutes—for example, eating.
Because once the bizarre itch struck, even eating became an ordeal, truly tasting like chewing wax.
Amidst these prevailing circumstances, the only ones who could still remain joyful were the children, mere toddlers of a few years old.
Almost unburdened by faith, they were still joyfully running and jumping, continuing their games. Their only bewilderment was that their parents, who usually kept them in line, were now letting them play freely, having uncharacteristically hidden away in their rooms, with no calls for dinner.
Yet, it was precisely these sounds of joy and laughter that became the last straw that broke the camel's back, causing many parents to, for the very first time, begin to harbor different thoughts about the faith they had never questioned for years.
Why were these children, who couldn't even articulate what the One-Wheel God was, exempt from such punishment, while they, the devout believers, were tormented to the point of wishing they were dead?!
“Once doubt in faith takes root, an irreparable rift will appear.”
Over the course of this day and more, Bai Mo, carrying Ning Yan Huo's head, wandered through the various villages of Maysuo, truly experiencing the despair they had wrought.
Aside from a few major cities where large numbers of priests were gathered, capable of erecting temporary faith power barriers to counter the curse and prevent the complete cessation of production and daily life, the vast majority of other regions were essentially paralyzed.
Transportation ceased, factories idled, and all sorts of shops closed down.
To make matters worse, on the second day of the curse's outbreak, after confirming the news, the Luminous Holy Church coalition army organized a mighty counterattack, proclaiming a million-strong army to liberate Maysuo.
“Abandon that false god who brings you only endless suffering, and embrace the true faith.”
They unanimously raised this banner, aiming to further undermine the will of the One-Wheel Cult's front-line resistance forces.
Large numbers of psionic mages and priests constantly used their spells to soften these steadfast believers wielding weapons.
The coalition soldiers, seeing these enemies who usually overwhelmed them in battle now mostly curled up in a ball, dazed and confused, their bodies covered in bloodstains, looking utterly devoid of the will to live, couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy.
Especially those belonging to the Luminous Holy Church, upon seeing these people tormented to such a state because of their faith, couldn't help but feel a sense of shared suffering, even if they were heretics.
As for the upper echelons of the Luminous Holy Church, thinking with greater foresight, they began to ponder the possibility of their own side suffering such a faith-destructive strike.
“To orchestrate such an attack, one would first need a rare curse-type mage, then elevate him, regardless of cost, to a rank where he could touch the ocean of primal force.”
“Then, upon advancing and drawing forth primal force, willingly sacrifice everything to complete this curse.” At the Luminous Holy Church's temporary emergency meeting, someone had already broadly put forward this conjecture.
“Your Eminence, we must also note the altar placed beside that individual when he drew forth primal force; it very likely served an amplifying effect.”
In contrast to the Huaxia Federation's Spirit Arts, the European Union, with its vastly different cultural background, referred to Spirit Arts as spells, and those capable of casting spells as mages.
The advancement process, named Duhe Daojie by the Huaxia Federation, was seen by them as drawing omnipresent primal force into oneself to complete a life transformation.
Their mages, in conjunction with advanced modern rune technology, were slowly approaching the Arcanists of fantasy.
Meanwhile, the Luminous Holy Church, which proclaimed that all things were gifts from God, uniformly referred to these as divine arts—techniques conceived through divine inspiration.
Within the heart of every One-Wheel Cult soldier, a struggle between angels and demons was now unfolding.
The angel whispered, “You absolutely cannot give up; this is true faith, a trial bestowed upon us by Him!”
“Obey your true inner desires. Is everything you believe in, everything you cling to, truly meaningful?” the demon whispered, fanning the flames from the side.
Because apples were the "fruit of sin," absolutely forbidden by the One-Wheel Cult, there wasn't a single apple tree in the entire territory of the cult, and it was even more impossible to find any apples for sale on the market. Thus, no one had yet been able to suppress the curse by eating apples.
The simultaneous eruption of internal and external troubles finally made Ramdo, who had long resided in his divine kingdom, unable to sit still any longer.
He knew that with the limited number of battlefield priests at the front, it would be impossible to organize a faith canopy to counter the curse. Soldiers whose combat strength was reduced to one in ten absolutely could not withstand the furious counterattacking coalition army, so he had to intervene himself.
Thus, Ramdo decided to descend with his strongest avatar, leading his most elite Sacred Spirit Guard, to crush the invading coalition army in one fell swoop and show those European upstarts what true divine might like a prison was!
The reason he didn't participate with his true body was to guard against the mastermind who had been covertly observing all along.
The opponent's creation of such an insane and depraved attack surely signified a significant scheme. The person who died in the video was nothing more than a pawn on the chessboard.
Ramdo's personal contingent was uniformly composed of highly mobile warriors, so just one hour later, personally leading his guard, he had already met with the large army invading from the west.
“Pope Gondor, Saintess Chris Ding, Blood Battle God Xi Liu... quite a gathering,” Ramdo's avatar, radiant with golden light, greeted the three leaders. “Perfect, you can all stay.”
“Ramdo, you are far too arrogant! Do you truly believe that with just three hundred Sacred Spirits behind you, you can stop our million-strong army? Do you think this is Thermopylae?!”
“No, all of you have but one enemy, and that is me,” Ramdo shook his head. “They are merely here to bear witness to my divine might.”
“Victory! Victory! Victory!” The Sacred Spirits behind Ramdo roared like madmen, for as beings of half-soul and half-energy, the curse held no meaning for them.
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