National Guardian's Gone and We're Done

They all gradually sensed that something was amiss.

Chang Bailin’s face was now twisted beyond human recognition by pain and fear.

It was as if his face had been viciously kneaded by the hands of a Demon.

His mouth was like a dam on the verge of collapse,

being violently torn apart by a Mysterious Power welling up from within his body.

From the black, cavernous depths of his mouth,

something unknown and horrifying was stirring restlessly,

desperate to break through its final restraint and burst out into the world.

This malevolent power was so immense

that Chang Bailin’s tongue had been brutally forced down to his jawline.

The tongue, like a tortured snake writhing in agony,

twisted and squirmed against his chin, a sight too gruesome to behold.

Saliva, a murky fluid thick with fear and despair,

streamed uncontrollably from the corners of Chang Bailin’s mouth.

It trickled down his pain-racked, convulsing cheeks,

finally dripping to the ground with a faint yet crisp sound, like the tolling of a death knell—

a prelude to the utter collapse of his mind.

His eyes were wide, his eyeballs bulging as if they were about to pop from their sockets.

His gaze was filled with terror and helplessness,

as if he were trapped in a nightmare from which he could not wake, unable to escape no matter how he struggled.

Just then, a purplish-black hand,

like a sharp blade from Hell, slowly emerged from Chang Bailin’s mouth.

Its fingers were thick and twisted, suffused with an unnatural color that did not belong in this world,

as if stained by the malevolent powers of a dark abyss.

The hand seized Chang Bailin’s lower jaw,

like a Demon toying with its prey, poised to snap it clean off.

Immediately after, another hand—just as purplish-black and hideous—

emerged from Chang Bailin’s agonized mouth, its five fingers like sharp iron hooks.

It latched viciously onto his upper jaw.

The two horrifying hands, one above and one below,

began to wrench Chang Bailin’s mouth apart with all their might.

A scalp-numbing CRACKING sound came from where his teeth met their sockets.

Each crack echoed through the silent night like the groan of tortured bone, chilling to the core.

Beads of sweat rolled down Chang Bailin’s face, mingling with tears and blurring his features.

His eyes lost focus from the extreme pain, his gaze hollow and despairing.

His whole body trembled violently, like a leaf in the wind.

An intense wave of pain washed over him like a surging tide,

battering his mind wave after wave until he was on the verge of losing consciousness.

He tried to struggle, to break free from this demonic power within him,

but in the face of such a powerful and malevolent force,

his resistance was utterly futile—like an ant trying to shake a tree.

"Take a look, Mr. Chu."

The repulsive voice of the hand-headed creature echoed in the night sky.

Its tone was nonchalant,

as if this were all just a trivial game. "Are you determined to remain an enemy to me and the Dark Holy See behind me,

only to watch these innocent villagers die horribly at my hands?

Or will you sensibly retreat, and we will never set foot in this place again?"

It believed itself to have the absolute upper hand,

and so when it spoke,

its every move exuded a nauseating air of ease and triumph,

as if everything was under its control.

"Lord Mountain God.

My father has served you for so long, after all.

Can’t you just spare my father and me?

If you want the other villagers, you can have them.

My father and I will continue to serve the Dark Holy See diligently."

Chang Zimo, having witnessed the gist of what was happening from the sidelines,

quickly put the pieces together with his quick wit.

’He knew in his heart that there was no such thing as the Mountain God his father always spoke of.

All the sacrificial rituals were just a sham,

designed to instill fear in the villagers

so they wouldn’t dare resist and would obediently submit to the Dark Holy See’s control.’

Chang Zimo’s voice trembled slightly,

but he forced himself to remain calm as he continued, "Even if my father and I haven’t made any monumental contributions,

we should at least get some credit for all our years of hard work.

Here in Xia Shui Village, we also have the renowned Deadman’s Grass with its peculiar properties.

We can offer every last stalk of Deadman’s Grass in the village to the Dark Holy See.

I’m sure that for an organization as powerful as the Dark Holy See,

such a rare resource must be extremely valuable.

As long as my father and I are here in Xia Shui Village to manage things,

we can guarantee a continuous supply of everything you need in the future.

Be it living people or other resources, we will deliver without question."

Hearing this, the villagers of Xia Shui Village felt as if they had been struck by lightning.

The truth finally, brutally, dawned on them.

Countless past moments flashed through their minds—

all their past doubts, fears, and suffering now had an answer.

The true mastermind behind everything was none other than Chang Zimo’s father, Chang Bailin.

He had meticulously planned it all, secretly colluding with the people of the Dark Holy See,

and had placed the entire village in heavy shackles,

leaving them like slaves in a pen, to be manipulated at will, completely powerless to resist.

In that instant, furious resentment erupted like a raging volcano.