Chapter 527: Chapter 517: Two Cults

West Coast of the Kingdom, fallen territory.

Amidst the ruins, a tall Pigman struggled to lift his body, his coarse bristles covered in gravel and dried blood scabs. He was the leader of a small squad of over ten Pigmen.

Now, in this fallen territory, many disorganized Demon Race teams like him roamed around.

They were not a regular army, merely trying to take captives amidst the chaos of the crumbling human defense lines.

Without the backing of the Demon Race’s grand army, this endeavor was naturally fraught with peril.

But those who stepped into this land were either confident in their own strength and wits or had no other choice, like him.

The Pigman Duke Xenophon died on the battlefield, dealing a heavy blow to the Pigman forces within the Empire.

Moreover, Xenophon had already made significant mistakes in the war, and after his death, apart from a small piece of personal land, his other fiefs were either reclaimed by the Emperor or devoured and divided by surrounding Lords.

Countless Pigmen lost their support and had to find their own way in life.

He didn’t want to become cannon fodder like some of his kin by defecting under other Lords, so he brought a group of willing followers to the West Coast, hoping to make a living through this bloody business.

But he failed.

The last memory in his mind was on the road back to the port with captives, where several scorching fireballs were launched from the broken buildings on both sides, sealing off all his avenues of evasion.

The Pigman shook his heavy head, and in his gradually clearing vision was a cage with iron bars. He quickly recognized it as the cage he used to imprison human captives.

The first thought was why those humans didn’t kill him on the spot but captured him instead?

After all, humans didn’t bother using Demon Race captives.

But when his gaze fell into the neighboring cage, he didn’t see his Pigman subordinates; instead, he saw those few human captives he had personally captured a few days ago!

They hadn’t been released; they were even still shackled.

One of the thin men locked eyes with him and slowly cracked a smile.

It wasn’t the joy of being saved but a twisted smile soaked in despair, finally glimpsing the thrill of revenge.

He propped himself up, his gaze moving beyond the edge of the cage, finally seeing the true nature of the escorting team.

A procession of silent figures in black robes walked amidst the ruins, their hoods covering their faces.

However, even in such attire, the Pigman could immediately identify several members exhibiting traits of the Demon Race.

A team composed of human-Demon hybrids?!

What shocked him even more was seeing a familiar figure!

In an instant, he realized his team’s attack was no accident.

“Tabo!” he roared from his throat, “Is it you who brought the enemy here?!”

The figure paused slightly, slowly turned around, and raised a hand to pull down his hood.

The face of a young Pigman was revealed, exactly the subordinate in his squad responsible for reconnaissance.

Tabo’s eyes were unusually calm, even carrying a sort of devout clarity: “It’s me, Captain.”

“Why?” The Pigman Captain frantically leaned forward, the iron bars creaking, saliva splattering, “Why betray your kin? Why the hell did you do it?”

“For redemption, Captain. So all of us can achieve true happiness in the afterlife!” Tabo’s eyes bore that same devout clarity, his answer giving the Pigman Captain a chilling feeling.

“Afterlife? Hand of Death?!” Even in the Empire, the Hand of Death was notorious.

After all, even the ruthless Erlino, who tamed blood livestock in cruel ways, had a starting point based on profit; it was logical.

But the Hand of Death was different; these maniacs, babbling about a happy afterlife, orchestrated terror killings just to sacrifice to their God.

Even the Demon Race didn’t favor such crazy groups.

Realizing what was happening, the Pigman resisted violently.

With muffled sounds of bones echoing and the tearing of muscle expansion, his already massive body swelled again, blood vessels bulged under the thick skin like worms, tusks pierced his lower lip dripping blood, the cage started deforming under the Pigman Captain’s frenzied power.

With a roar, the iron bars crumbled, and the Pigman Captain stepped out of the damaged cage, slapping a hand fiercely across the rushing Tabo’s face.

The young Pigman flew away like a kite with a broken string, crashing against a tree and sliding down limp.

The Pigman Captain didn’t even glance, his blood-red eyes sweeping across other cages, his giant hands gripping the railings and tearing them apart.

Whether they held terror-stricken human captives or his fellow Pigmen excitedly looking out, the cages succumbed to his brute force one by one.

Screams, cries, curses exploded instantly, turning the scene chaotic.

He did this not out of mercy but knowing full well that only greater chaos could disrupt the ranks of these black-robed lunatics, giving him a sliver of chance for survival.

Some threw themselves at the cultists in retribution, others ran frantically towards the forest.

Just as the chaos peaked and the Pigman Captain prepared to escape.

“Quiet.”

A young girl’s voice echoed. It wasn’t loud, could even be described as gentle, yet it instantly overpowered all the noise.

The captives who had just been crying, fleeing, and resisting were as if their souls were simultaneously stripped away, their eyes empty, collapsed weakly to the ground, and fell into a slumber.

The Pigman captain also felt his mind a heavy blow, his large body staggered suddenly, and his forward momentum came to a halt, stumbling back two steps, falling to the ground, his rough breathing accompanied by a dizzying gasp.

His muddled brain tried to understand what had just happened.

Sound wave attack?

No!

None of the cultists were affected.

Seizing the moment as the Pigman captain collapsed in exhaustion, they pounced, pinning him firmly to the ground.

The girl who spoke earlier slowly walked to his front, her white slender fingers pulling down the hood.

A face belonging to a human girl, even with a hint of childish innocence, was revealed.

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

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

“High Priest!” they called quietly.

The girl crouched down, calmly looking at the Pigman captain pinned to the ground.

She extended her hands, gently cradling his blood-stained and dust-covered, twisted and contorted cheeks, her actions tender as if touching a fragile treasure.

“Hush… poor child, lost soul tangled in the thorns of life…” Her voice ethereal and delicate, carrying a strange rhythm, “Why struggle? This rough shell, these endless desires and rage, this pain of separation and loss… but heavy burdens on the road of reincarnation.”

The Pigman captain struggled out of the dizzying haze of the mental impact, and with a roar of fury he replied, “Kill if you want, stop fucking trying to confuse me, you damned lunatics!”

He fiercely swung his head, biting the girl’s half hand, the hand was so frail, with just a slight effort, he bit it off, the taste of blood immediately filled his mouth and nose.

Yet the girl seemed unfazed by the pain, her gaze instead grew softer: “See, how weary you are. Fight, plunder, fear, betray… living beings carry so much dust, trudging futilely in the endless cycle.”

Her tone gradually calmed, like singing a lullaby: “Death is not the end, but a new beginning. There, there is no division of race, no distinction between weak and strong, no entanglement of pain and joy… but only pure ’nothing’.”

Following her whispers and caresses, a strange sensation started to spread.

The Pigman captain’s anger, fear, and physical pain all quietly receded like a tide.

A profound and irresistible weariness surged forth, as though he had been walking on a thorny path for a thousand years, finally seeing a soft bed upon which he could rest.

The girl’s prayers drew to an end, her voice becoming increasingly gentle, almost merging into the night breeze: “…Therefore, we, Hand of Death, guide the lost spirits. Break free from this world’s shackles, return to rest. When the bell of reincarnation rings again… you will have a lighter journey.”

The last note fell.

The Pigman captain’s crimson eyes had long lost focus, becoming empty and serene.

His throat’s rough breathing ceased, tense muscles completely relaxed, his fierce visage unfolding into a peaceful expression like a sleeping infant.

The giant head was cradled by the girl’s blood-stained hands, the chest rose one last time, then fell silent.

The girl withdrew her hands, and at last, her intact fingertip gently touched his closed eyelids, like a blessing mark.

She got to her feet, the black robe lightly fluttering in the wind, her gaze swept over those sleeping sacrifices on the ground.

“Prepare the ritual,” she ordered, “To hear the master’s revelation again, we still need to save more people!”

…

Meanwhile, in Mushroom City.

Here too, a cult was conducting a sinister ritual—a group of people praying to a Puki.

There were no prayers, they mostly mumbled to themselves about the goodness of Puki.

After the prayers, the initial leader of the Mushroom Worship Sect, Julia, picked up the ordinary Puki from the altar, allowing it to run away on its own.

Then Julia blew out the room’s candles and shared the glowing mushroom soup she had cooked with everyone, accompanied by the soup’s fluorescence.

During the communion, a member suggested, perhaps they should find a real Mushroom Race to worship.

Julia agreed with this suggestion, but the problem was that the known Mushroom Races were in the Kingdom’s hands, and wild ones were unknown where to encounter.

Everyone shared their opinions, some suggested searching in the Underground City, others proposed praying to the Fungal Mat, requesting the Puki God to grant a Mushroom Race, while some boldly suggested risking being targeted by approaching the few known Mushroom Races in the Kingdom.

To those who believe in Puki, the Mushroom Race must surely be the Puki God’s divine envoy, gaining the Mushroom Race’s recognition is crucial for the internal cohesion of the Mushroom Worship Sect.

They dreamed of a future led by the Mushroom Race, even though it was just a thought now, they were excited.

However, just as the discussion atmosphere was at its peak, a neat sound of footsteps came from outside.

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