absurd deduction game.

The section of road leading to the garden has been conquered.

The main building's main door was protected by a spell, but it quickly crumbled under the continuous onslaught of holy light, causing the entire door to tilt inward and kick up a cloud of dust and debris.

A stronger, sweet, rotten smell wafted out from behind the door, mixed with the sticky sounds unique to the wriggling of flesh.

When Herbert returned, the other clergy completely regarded him as their leader, and he also had a strong leadership spirit, always taking the lead.

The golden light of the warhammer dispelled the lingering shadows within the door, illuminating the heavily mutated interior space.

The walls were covered with pulsating, dark red fleshy layers, the floor was covered with viscous, dark green liquid, and thick, intestinal-like structures hung from the ceiling, slowly contracting and expanding in a certain rhythm. The original hall was divided into twisted passages and chambers by the proliferating fleshy tissue.

"Stay alert!" Herbert roared, sweeping his warhammer and smashing a monstrous, melting wax figure-like creature that had lunged down from the wall.

The team quickly followed suit, but their progress immediately encountered difficulties different from those on the Garden Road section.

The fleshy maze was almost alive; it seemed to be constantly changing. Newly cleared paths were quickly blocked by newly formed tumors or surging slime, and monsters emerged from unexpected places—some crawling out of cracks in the floor, some dripping from the ceiling, and some simply becoming part of the walls, suddenly splitting open a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“We need to know the internal structure!” Deacon Murphy of the Mechanicus stared at the data jumping on the metal pages in his hand. “The umbrella can only last for less than six minutes. Even if we are indoors, ordinary walls cannot block the pollution. Once the umbrella fails, we will face the full amount of pollution. Blindly rushing forward is too inefficient.”

A woman dressed in a plain white robe walked out from the back of the group.

Her robe was embroidered with spider webs and silk threads, the emblem of the goddess of silk.

She clasped her hands together in front of her chest, and translucent, pearly threads appeared between her palms.

“The Church of the Goddess of Silk, Celine,” she introduced to Herbert, her voice soft yet clear. “Please give me a moment.”

She closed her eyes.

The silk threads drifted from her palms, like living tentacles, and seeped into the cracks in the surrounding walls, floors, and ceilings.

The threads traveled within the matter, transmitting the perceived structural information back to her consciousness.

Half a minute later, she opened her eyes and traced lines in the air with her fingertips.

Pale white streaks of light appeared out of thin air, connecting and intertwining to form a semi-transparent, three-dimensional model covering the entire main building in front of everyone.

Inside the model, feasible passages, core nodes for flesh growth, and areas where monsters gather are clearly marked.

At the same time, the same faint outline of light appears at the edge of everyone's field of vision, providing real-time navigation guidance.

“Go up the right passage, past the third tumor, there’s a hidden staircase leading to the third floor.” Celine spoke steadily. “Watch the ceiling to your left, there’s fleshy movement there, and tentacles will soon be hanging down.”

A glint flashed in Herbert's eyes.

By the Goddess of Harvest... are the powers of the followers of the Goddess of Silk really this convenient?!

Although it lacks combat ability, it is incredibly powerful as a support!

He had never fought such a rich battle since he became a combat deacon!

"Follow the signs, quickly."

Guided by the silk threads, the team's advance speed increased dramatically. They avoided traps and bypassed blockages, like a precise blade piercing straight into the core of the main building.

But Tantric Buddhism will not sit idly by and wait for its demise.

As the group arrived at the second-floor atrium, the surrounding fleshy walls simultaneously tore apart, as if cleaved open from the inside by an invisible force.

Thick black mist surged from the crack, and dozens of figures clad in black robes emerged from the mist.

Tantric practitioners.

They stepped out of the teleportation array, their hands beneath black robes clutching twisted ritual daggers or various filthy implements.

Having probably rehearsed this day countless times in their minds, they did not shout or yell, but launched an attack silently and swiftly.

"defense!"

Golden shields and mechanical energy barriers instantly deployed, blocking the first wave of attacks, and a chaotic battle erupted between the two sides in the narrow atrium.

Herbert spotted a cultist charging towards him.

The opponent wielded two daggers, moved swiftly, and his black robes billowed in the battle; he was one of the few who truly understood combat.

Herbert's warhammer came crashing down, and his opponent dodged to the side. A dagger slashed at his ribs, and he blocked with his shield in his left hand, while his right hand swept the warhammer horizontally, striking his opponent in the side.

The cultist groaned and collapsed to the ground.

The hood of the black robe fell off during the impact, revealing the face of a middle-aged man with fair skin, deep-set eyes, and dried bloodstains at the corner of his mouth.

A young guard standing nearby stared wide-eyed: "This...this is the watchmaker from Rose Street! I had my pocket watch repaired by him last month!"

Herbert's face darkened.

“A cultist can be anyone,” he said in a low voice. “Any identity, any profession. Desire corrupts the soul, and darkness never discriminates over its host.”

He suddenly realized something and looked up sharply: "Shouldn't all these people... be in church? The mandatory assembly order covers the entire town!"

Panic spread through the ranks. If the cultists could show up here, what would happen to the people in the church...?

"Don't worry about the church."

The sound came from the side.

Yu Xing emerged from a passage blocked by fleshy parts, raising his silver pistol and pointing it at the three most powerful cultists in his line of sight—they had undergone a monster fusion ritual and were no longer humanoid.

The one on the far left has its lower body completely fused with the fleshy floor beneath its feet, its upper body swollen into a sphere, and its skin surface covered with pus-filled eyeballs. Each eyeball is rotating and blinking, while simultaneously releasing dark green mental shockwaves.

The cultist in the middle has arms that have transformed into two tentacles covered with suckers, the ends of which split into petal-shaped mouths. The one on the right is even more twisted, with its head split in two, containing no brain but a constantly pulsating mass of flesh covered with sharp teeth.

Anyone who looks at it will not understand what they are trying to achieve by joining Tantric Buddhism.

Yu Xing fired three shots in quick succession.

Three silver light bullets hit their mark precisely. The first bullet pierced the largest main eye on the eyeball monster's chest, causing the eyeball to explode. The second bullet penetrated the petal-shaped mouth of the tentacle monster and detonated inside. The third bullet caused the entire tumor to burst open, spraying out filthy blood and bits of flesh.

He walked over to Herbert and said calmly, “There are people protecting the civilians at the church. These cultists were prepared in advance—they have teleportation markers implanted in their bodies. Once the ritual is activated, they will be forcibly teleported to the manor no matter where they are. The remaining priests in the church are not capable of stopping this level of spatial transfer.”

Herbert stared at Yu Xing for two seconds, then looked at the three twisted corpses on the ground that were rapidly melting into filthy pus, and finally nodded without asking Yu Xing why she was there.

"Alright, I was just worried about the people. Now that you say so, I'm relieved. Let's move on!"

The battle continues.

Yu Xing had already shown himself and had no intention of hiding anymore. He stepped directly into the center of the battle line, and his dark brown, branch-like tentacles stretched out from his sides and back without any concealment. Each tentacle was as thick as an adult's arm, and its surface was covered with a texture similar to ancient tree bark, with frighteningly sharp ends.

The priests looked at him with some strange expressions, but no one was foolish enough to jump out and say they wanted to punish him.

His movements were as relaxed as if he were taking a stroll in the courtyard.

A cultist roared and lunged forward, his twisted ritual dagger aimed straight at Yu Xing's face. Yu Xing didn't even move his feet; he simply raised one of his left tentacles and struck the cultist's side with precision.

The force wasn't fatal, but it was enough to make the opponent lose his balance, sending him flying sideways and crashing right between the two combat priests.

The two priests reacted swiftly, their swords clashing as they slashed down.

Wherever Yu Xing went, priests would inexplicably find the heads of cultists, significantly increasing their combat efficiency. The dark brown tentacles stood out starkly against the dark red flesh, each swing accompanied by a whooshing sound, and each strike by a muffled cracking sound of bones breaking.

Blood and bits of flesh splattered continuously, but none of it touched Yu Xing—the tentacles always managed to deflect at the last moment, or flick their tips away the filth.

A young priest was stunned for a moment, almost getting hurt by the attack from the side. A tentacle instantly slashed sideways, knocking the attacker away. Yu Xing laughed:

"Focus."

The young priest blushed, nodded hastily, and thrust out his longsword, ending the life of the cultist who had been sent flying.

The pace of progress has accelerated significantly.

The team broke through the second-floor atrium with almost overwhelming force, spreading out in an orderly manner to break through several nodes that had to be killed together. Yu Xing wandered around and came to the stairs leading to the third floor.

The staircase was also covered by a fleshy layer, the steps became slippery and soft, and the handrail was transformed into rows of inward-curving bone spurs. Several cultists guarded the entrance to the staircase, making a last stand.

Yu Xing's gaze fell on one of the cultists.

The other person was petite, yet exceptionally agile, and the outline of a woman could be vaguely seen beneath the black robe.

Yu Xing dodged a dark green energy beam by sidestepping it, and a dark brown tentacle emerged from his side, lashing out at the female cultist.

The opponent reacted extremely quickly, ducking and rolling to dodge, its tentacles striking the bone spikes on the stair railing and shattering several of them.

The hood of the black robe slipped off during the tumbling, revealing a woman's face.

She looked to be in her thirties or forties, with deep-set eyes, prominent cheekbones, and a venomous glint in her dark brown eyes—she was Julie from the slums.

She stared intently at Yu Xing, her voice hoarse as she said, "I remember your scent... You followed Evan to the gathering. What were you doing?! Killing those priests of the true god!"

"You actually recognized me." Yu Xing raised an eyebrow. "I also remember you; you're the woman who turned her son into a rat, right?"

Julie's face contorted instantly.

Before she could react, Yu Xing pointed upwards towards the stairs.

“By the way, weren’t you looking for revenge against Qu Xianqing?” he said. “She’s over there, let’s go.”

Julie looked up abruptly.

At the corner of the stairs, Qu Xianqing was standing there, his blood-red longsword pointing diagonally at the ground.

Looking down at the chaotic battle below, she tilted her head slightly upon hearing Yu Xing's words, a hint of confusion on her face.

“I have never killed anyone’s son,” she said.

Yu Xing said, "Actually, it's a rat."

Qu Xianqing thought for a moment.

"As for rats..." she said coldly, "who would remember how many rats they've killed?"

Julie's breathing suddenly became rapid.

The people and things she regarded as spiritual imprints seemed to be nothing more than insects that could be crushed at will, not even worthy of being remembered.

“You…you all…” Julie’s voice trembled.

Then she screamed.

It was a heart-wrenching, utterly irrational scream. She pounced on the stairs on all fours like a wild beast, her fingernails scraping against the fleshy steps.

Qu Xianqing didn't even move a step.

As Julie lunged forward, Qu Xianqing merely sidestepped and thrust his blood-stained sword forward.

The sword tip pierced Julie's chest and emerged through her back.

The screaming stopped abruptly.

Julie hung on the sword, her body twitching a few times, the madness in her eyes quickly fading, leaving only an empty, lifeless look.

Qu Xianqing withdrew his sword, and the corpse rolled down the stairs, finally coming to rest motionless in the corner of the platform.

"Isn't she just an ordinary person?" Qu Xianqing looked at the corpse, her tone carrying the bewilderment one might have when facing someone with intellectual disabilities. "Did she think that joining the esoteric sect made her as powerful as those inhuman beings like the high priests?"

Yu Xing walked up the stairs and shrugged.

Qu Xianqing turned to him: "What are you going to do now?"

"Wait," Yu Xing said, his gaze passing through the gaps in the stairwell and looking towards the attic, towards the location of the flesh altar.

“When the connection between the Old God and the altar deepens, and the overlap between the divine realm and Yorikef expands to cover the entire town, the Old God will be in its weakest ‘transitional period.’ At that time, I will try to kill Him.”

His mark should come into play at this time.

Qu Xianqing looked at him and raised an eyebrow: "Just say so if you need help."

"Will do."

Qu Xianqing remained at the top of the stairs, her blood sword held horizontally in front of her, blocking the cultists and monsters trying to rush up below. In the dim light, her figure was like an insurmountable barrier.

Above, an even more terrifying pollution is gathering.

In the attic, the dark green compound eyes of Fennell, transformed into butterfly eyes, reflected the enormous eye in the sky.

A cold smile curved her lips.

"The mechanical father god... the silk goddess..." she murmured to herself, "The reinforcements arrived quickly. But what good are they?"

She tilted her head back, looking directly into that eye, and raised her voice:
"Your arrival should be swifter."

There was no respect in her tone, only an almost equal urging. Clearly, even though Fernail knew that after the Kingdom of Gods descended, Yorikef would become the territory of the ancient gods, she had no intention of humbled herself.

Unlike Evan, who devoted everything to the gods, she only wanted to prove herself with her abilities. Even if she was below the gods, she wanted to sit in the highest position.

As soon as she finished speaking, the giant eye in the sky suddenly trembled.

The swirling nebula-like currents inside the pupils suddenly accelerated, and a dark crimson blood-red color surged within them. Then, the eyes bulged outward from the "plane" of the sky, as if something was forcibly squeezing into this world from another dimension.

The protruding part stretched and deformed, eventually extending into an indescribable tentacle.

It turns out that the eye wasn't a separate organ at all, but rather the tip of this tentacle.

The massive tentacle's main body was hidden deep within the crack in the sky, with only a section visible—its surface covered with constantly opening and closing suckers, each filled with tiny, swirling specks of light like galaxies. Countless tiny, wriggling secondary tentacles also grew on the tentacle, swaying in the air like the tentacles of a sea anemone.

The moment the tentacles extended, the erosion intensified, and the speed at which the two worlds overlapped suddenly accelerated.

Looking out from the windows of the main building, one can clearly see the edge of Yolikev town—the block near the manor, where the outlines of the houses begin to blur.

Brick and stone walls blended with charred ruins, stone paths intertwined with cracked scorched earth, lampposts overlapped with rusted iron frames, and the human structures in that area were being covered, replaced, and swallowed up by the ruins of the ancient god's domain.

The overlap was spreading, slowly but irresistibly. (End of Chapter)