Superhumans of the Dome City-Chapter 1313 - 142: The End of the Pilgrimage_2

His conversation partner quickly responded, purely rational judgment devoid of emotional elements, benefitting both sides without harm. Allies for a moment, seizing opportunities to confront, the general direction was set, and other details could be negotiated slowly. For two thousand years, the Empire had coexisted with order in this way; the Emperor knew how to negotiate for the greater good.

"Okay... then let’s set the time and each prepare."

The Emperor ceased speaking, silence fell in the Moon Palace.

·

Two sofas, one wooden chair, the television replaying a recent great battle from outside, the small blue-toned room was filled with warmth.

Yan Qi sneezed and cursed without any decorum: "Damn, not a single day of peace!"

"Buddy, let’s be honest, is anyone forcing you to watch TV here all the time?" Mr. Lan shrugged, "You can leave anytime, I even suggest you return to the capital and rest before considering future circumstances..."

"Bullshit, it’s you who needs to worry the most!" Yan Qi sneered, "When the Final Sword descended, it was impossible for the Colored Glaze Dragon to seal it alone, who helped secretly?"

Mr. Lan remained unfazed: "A trivial task, not worth mentioning."

Yan Qi pressed on: "A thousand years ago, the Holy Texts left by the Saint were straightforward parables, why did they become bloated and complex volumes after a millennium?"

Mr. Lan spread his hands: "Everyone has the right to create secondary works!"

"Zhang!" Yan Qi clicked his tongue.

There were three people in Mr. Lan’s small room, the owner himself and Yan Qi each occupied a sofa, while a calm elder sat quietly in a wooden chair, listening to the arguments. Today, the elder rarely spoke, he quietly recalled, then eloquently lectured: "In the stories of the Holy Texts a thousand years ago, angels occupied only a minor part. The Saint intended to focus people’s faith on the artificial image of ’Metatron’, using Mechanical Angels as a symbol of humanity conquering nature.

But as time passed, stories evolved, angels’ images became more diverse, accompanied by corresponding tales. I am sure that in my previous Awakening... according to the current calendar in 1464... the story of the angel war was just beginning. But less than three hundred years later, this story was widespread, the ’Wind Angel’ Raphael, representing healing, played a laboring messenger with an image faintly resembling a long snake."

The screen’s broadcast swiftly rewound, freezing at the moment when three thousand long snakes consumed starlight during the assassination of the President. It was Gongsun Ce’s False Words Seal, inspired by the Deceiving Snake as its source Seal. This was a snake that sowed discord, twisted God’s intentions to intensify the angels’ struggles, secretly stealing their power to disperse it on the ground. Humanity thereby gained inequity and hatred, but also wisdom and courage.

Yan Qi coldly continued the thought: "Around the same time, the ’snake’ that deceived God, incited conflict, and stole power, appeared in the Holy Texts. And in contemporary times, due to story confusions, the Deceiving Snake and Wind Angel are often regarded as the same image. Truly remarkable! Using a millennium to silently influence and change the hearts of all beings for its own impact!"

Mr. Lan wagged his finger, looking self-satisfied: "That’s basic skill, in our line of work, patience is most tested. Without patience, how can you make those quirky old opponents listen to you? But I must say, my plan isn’t perfect, the story got a little twisted midway."

Sitting upright on the sofa, he displayed a righteous and sincere demeanor: "If they call me a thief, so be it, but how can they call me the Deceiving Snake! I’ve always been the most honest character, never playing the ’partial truth’ game, always answering everything without reservation, treating everyone as I would myself."

Yan Qi loudly "pooed" and stopped talking to the King. Mr. Lan stood up, picked and chose by the hat rack near the door. He styled his hair with gel, dressed in a deep-blue high-neck long coat, its hem nearly touching his ankles, looking very much like Gongsun Ce’s junior high aesthetic.

He spun once before the full-length mirror, gracefully like an imminent runway model. After all this, he returned to the TV, lazily curled up on the sofa and opened a can of cola for himself.

"Don’t worry, fellows." Mr. Lan smiled, "It’s petty to take advantage of vulnerabilities, I always give opponents ample time. Rest well, and prepare properly! When everyone is in good condition, we’ll compete openly and fairly."

The elderly man beside him sighed softly and asked: "Having known you for so long, I still don’t understand. King Pingdeng, what exactly do you seek?"

King Pingdeng crossed his fingers leisurely across his chest and said: "Nothing but hope for all beings in the world, everyone equal."

·

Another day passed, Meteor City.

The clock pointed to eight o’clock, the streets filled with neon lights were bustling. Changing neon lights illuminated the urban night sky; people even more changeable than the lights were enjoying the weekend night, discussing remarkable technology, earth-shattering actions, and the glorious national strength of the United States that filled them with pride. The harsh summer had passed unwittingly, the night wind of early autumn was comfortably cool, people’s voices were louder than ever, filled with post-crisis gratitude and joy.

Just a wall away from the bustling district, the Holy Battle Axe Cathedral’s thick walls isolated the noise outside. Devout believers filled the benches, late-comers voluntarily sat in the aisles and on the floor, praying with an intensity unmatched in their lives. Outside the cathedral, neon lights streamed through the carved glass, illuminating the gentle profile of the pink-haired nun. Accompanied by the solemn and majestic pipe organ, she softly sang ancient songs before the Holy Altar.