American variety show world begins with subduing Jason

"Why can't you explain it clearly? Why all the secrecy..." Bai Ziyuan's eyes kept drifting to the side.

"You two little brats are babbling on and on right in front of me, do you think I'm invisible?"

Lai Hengli, who was sitting cross-legged on a futon adjusting his breathing, opened his eyes helplessly and scolded her irritably.

"Seeing that you're in a bad mood, this is just to lighten the mood. This story is also recorded in the Twenty-Four Filial Exemplars, called 'Entertaining Parents in Colorful Clothes'." Bai Ziyuan made a funny face with a grin.

"Showing off won't help, I can't take you there for now." The old man said solemnly, exhaling a breath of pent-up energy from his earlier exertion.

"The situation is extremely dangerous and complex. The specific reasons are bound by a strong oath of secrecy. I can only reveal one thing—it is an extremely serious alien space invasion. If it is not handled properly, the land will be devastated."

"Isn't that similar to this situation? Isn't that too much of a coincidence?" Zhu Mingyao's heart skipped a beat, as if he had grasped something.

“You’re right. I’ve only just realized it myself. This whole thing has been part of someone else’s scheme from beginning to end.” Henry Lai’s expression was grim.

"You should know the meaning of 'using objects to represent forms' in mysticism, right?"

The two were taken aback by what they heard. For qualified cultivators, this concept was basic common sense.

Using objects to represent forms is a common type of magic in Taoism. From low-level techniques like straw dolls as substitutes, wooden puppet curses, and paper boat overturning, to high-level techniques like using substitutes to avoid death and calamity, all fall into this category.

Or to be more specific, in almost all existing magic systems, "substitution magic" is a very large category, and everyone has similar methods.

The principle behind this type of technique is called "True Form" in the Xuanmen school, while some other schools call it the "Law of Similarity".

This refers to the principle of like attracts like, meaning that the same effect must have the same cause. Based on the "law of similarity," the spellcaster deduces that he can achieve his goal simply by imitating the object of the spell; magic based on this is called "simulation magic" or "homeopathy."

Your appearance is the same as the statue in my hand; when I attack the statue, you will be injured.

The Son of God was immersed in water to wash away sin and defilement, so I can dispel the curse by baptizing with pure water.

Although they differ in form, their core is the same.

In short, this type of technique utilizes the "connections between similar things" to achieve various effects.

"You mean, someone is using a simulated scenario to do something like the Seven Arrows of Nailhead curse?" Bai Ziyuan thought of a possibility.

"Let's do the opposite!" After all, having lived two lives, Zhu Mingyao's mind was more agile, or rather, his imagination was more boundless:

"The survivors' sudden madness, their fanatical cult of belief in becoming superhumans overnight, their bizarre behavior—it doesn't seem like a curse, but rather... a sacrifice?"

"That's exactly right. The mastermind used remote control to replicate a tragedy that happened back then. By taking advantage of the high similarity between the two, they harvested the spiritual essence of thousands of souls and sent it there, breaking the seal that was already being maintained. The situation was almost completely out of control."

Henry Lai gave a wry smile. "So now all of us old guys who were involved in the incident are rushing over there."

He looked troubled and sighed inexplicably:

"The one who tied the knot must untie it. If the door was locked too tightly, now that it's on fire, and we want more people to help put it out, we first need to break the lock on the mouth..."

He abruptly stopped speaking, his old eyes fixed on the direction the plane was heading, and said seriously, "We're almost there. I'll get off first. You all hurry back and prepare for battle. Don't let your guard down. Once we've reached a consensus, you'll have your chance to shine!"

After he finished speaking, a clear light emanated from his body, and the Qian and Gen trigrams were stacked together, presenting the image of the Heavenly Mountain Retreat.

The voices still linger, but the figures are faint; thousands of meters in the air, they are merely strolling leisurely.

Both of them were of sound mind and knew what was important and urgent. Unlike the characters in those brainless movies and TV shows who were driven by excessive curiosity and insisted on following along to take a look, the two of them immediately turned back.

Before leaving, Zhu Mingyao used his divine eye to look as far as he could, and could only see a dark spot reaching into the clouds in the distant, majestic Appalachian Mountains.

……

……

Mutilated limbs were everywhere, and blood had stained the soil a dark purple.

A young corpse dressed in military uniform was twisted into a pretzel shape like a rag doll, its pale eyes staring at the sky in terror.

Pure white feathers drifted down, purifying the resentment and closing the unwilling eyes.

The elderly nun finished reciting the prayer with a heavy heart, then turned and walked to an open space, slowly asking:

"Is everyone here?"

Chapter 402 Back Then 2

The open space is located on a suspended mountainside, with steep cliffs and no path in sight. It seems as if an invisible hand has smoothed out the jagged rocks and carved out a platform.

At that moment, a group of all sorts of people stood there, looking at each other in silence.

The largest group wore crosses, their stiff, round collars spotless white. Their triangular episcopal crowns and gilded, curved scepters testified to their status, placing them at least above the rulers of a diocese.

Almost without exception, they stared at the officials opposite them with indifferent, cold, or slightly angry expressions.

Between the two camps, Henry Lai and Fiona, the witch council president, stood shoulder to shoulder, observing from a distance with indifference.

Somewhat strangely, there were only two powerful figures from the heretical sects present, while only Catholics from the Catholic camp appeared, and none from any of the Protestant denominations were seen.

"Except for a few church members who chose to return to the Lord's embrace because they were too old, all the others who were supposed to attend were present."

Sparse silver hair trembled slightly with the mountain air currents as the elderly man at the head of the group, wearing a small, round, soft hat, calmly gave his statement.

Unlike his colleagues who were dressed in elaborate bishop robes and adorned with various religious relics, his attire was simple and unadorned. His hunched and thin body was simply wrapped in a worn black priest's suda, and he carried neither a silver-threaded beaded Bible nor a Bible with a gold-embossed cover, but rather casually leaned on a chestnut wood cane.

If a stranger were to pass by him, he would simply be seen as an ordinary country priest, with no idea that he is a religious giant who guards the western coast of the Federation and is revered by millions of Catholic believers.

"Before we begin, please allow this old man a moment's delay." His cloudy, aged eyes turned to the figure opposite him.

"Chief Maxwell, since I came to the Union at the age of 30 to perform my holy service, we have worked together for a full 62 years. Based on this lifelong friendship, I have a few words to offer."

"Mortals, entangled in desires and greed, who rashly covet faith and divinity, will inevitably invite disaster... This was true 30 years ago, and it is true today."

"Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's; this...is the will of the Church!"

His tone was calm yet firm, but it was enough to remind people that the authority of the Papacy was not merely confined to a tiny territory of 0.44 square kilometers and armored guards in the style of ancient Rome.

Although that holy city has declined compared to its historical past, it still governs 1,045 million Catholics worldwide, representing 17.4% of the global population. It commands 3,692,000 clergy, has hundreds of thousands of affiliated members, and maintains close ties with countless powerful and influential figures.

Faced with such a powerful force, any power or nation must take it seriously, and even the superpowers at the top of the secular hierarchy must give way.

The other party's advice and warning were concise and clear. Surrounded by his subordinates, the veteran agent remained silent for a moment before earnestly promising:

“Patriarch Rupert, I will do everything in my power to completely resolve the issues from back then… At least in this matter, I will not allow anyone's selfish desires to interfere recklessly, no matter who they are!”

The old bishop twitched slightly, his relaxed cheeks trembling. Although he wasn't entirely satisfied with the reassuring promise that left room for maneuver, he still breathed a sigh of relief.

"The more we know, the more dangerous it becomes. That's why we made a pact back then, prohibiting the leak of information and unauthorized entry after the seal was completed. But now it seems there's no need to abide by it."

The brown-gray wooden staff was raised and pointed into the distance. A high wall formed by thick fog stretched between the mountains. A semi-transparent light swayed precariously. Judging from the cracks that were slowly spreading on its surface, even a complete novice would know that its complete collapse was only a matter of time.

A strange buzzing sound faintly rang out, and with it, numerous bizarre, ghostly figures emerged from the thick fog, almost filling the entire field of vision and completely enveloping the sky.

The fog grew thicker and thicker, turning as black as the dead of night, as solid as mud. Within it, it seemed as if countless creatures were whispering amongst themselves, and a gloomy, desperate, anguish, and anxious negative aura surged forth like a raging tide.

Compared to this apocalyptic spectacle, the fog disaster that broke out a few days ago seems like a harmless joke.

The powerful figures present were all well-versed in the ways of the world and were naturally not intimidated by any imposing aura. Rupert didn't even bother to glance at them, and continued speaking to himself:

"On behalf of the builders who participated in the sealing, I hereby declare that the oath is lifted! From now on, everyone can tell others about what happened, and Centria can also come and go freely."

A purplish-red sandstone monument quarried from the summit of Mount Sinai stands erect, its engraved Latin inscriptions melting into liquid amidst the flames of platinum, gradually transforming into a pool of scorching glass that reflects a rainbow of light.

The distant barrier, struggling to hold on, shimmered with light, and runes outlined a one-way entrance.

The binding spell has been broken, and the secrets of the past are no longer concealed and can be freely circulated.

The crowd dispersed in different directions, hurriedly making contact.

To avert the crisis, a large-scale coalition of highly skilled personnel is needed to invade the alienated space. Doing so without revealing intelligence would be tantamount to suicide, and now the biggest obstacle has disappeared.

She left the specific tasks to the church staff and walked down the hill alone to continue the Requiem Mass for the scattered remains.

"May I ask you a few questions, Granny?"

A broken branch jutted out, drawing several lines in the air shaped like an inverted bowl. The soil and pebbles all over the mountain rolled along with it, turning into thousands of chubby, adorable clay figures the size of fingertips.

They waved their short, stubby hands, carrying the remains of the corpses over and arranging them neatly in several rows. They even carefully tidied the faces of the deceased, preserving their final dignity.

"What do you want to ask?" Seemingly expecting this, the old nun showed no surprise at the sudden appearance of Henry Lai.

"There are many, for example..."

Why were we and the witch invited when the seal was set up, while the Protestants and Orthodox Churches were notified?

Why send out a single team to fight, even at the cost of heavy casualties?

Why would they exchange significant benefits with us for such a high-level confidentiality agreement?

Henry Lai's mustache twitched as he fired off a barrage of questions:

"According to what was said back then, it was just a cult that summoned a projection of hell. Why did they have to hide the news like this? Could it be..." His tone suddenly turned solemn.

"Some inside information that's difficult to tell others?"

Eileen closed her eyes, her eyelids trembling slightly, as if she were going through an inner struggle. She struggled to choose her words:

"Not everything needs an answer. Regardless of what it was before, it's now just a fallen, mindless monster, no different from a demon lord, and has nothing to do with anything from before..."

Her voice suddenly stopped, and her gaze was fixed on a crystal that had appeared in front of her, or more precisely, on a petal-shaped mark on it.

The man's voice rang out calmly: "Your prediction is somewhat off. That person's consciousness and even his strength attributes are still perfectly preserved. For the sake of the smooth progress of the next operation, please tell the truth."

Chapter 403 Mission 1

"Ping!"

Shards of smooth, jade-like, warm, and lustrous tea splattered everywhere, while Darjeeling tea, still warm, left irregular brownish-gray stains on the wall.

Royal Worcester is an epitome of over two centuries of British porcelain history. As a royal gift and everyday porcelain brand, it is world-renowned for producing high-quality porcelain and exquisite craftsmanship.

Such exquisite and valuable tableware would be presentable enough even for a billionaire to serve guests. But to its owner, it's no different from a discounted item in a ten-dollar store; it's merely a casual sacrifice for venting anger.

Another saucer was tragically shattered into pieces, the sharp shards arcing through the air in a silvery arc, striking the cheek of the man holding the documents with a stinging pain.

However, he merely tensed his body, daring not to make the slightest movement, because any one of the figures around the cedar round table in front of him could, with a flick of their little finger, make a secretary disappear from the world in a perfectly reasonable way.

Unlike the political figures in the White House who change every four years, they are the true behind-the-scenes controllers of this country.

"A bunch of old-fashioned charlatans actually want to completely destroy [that], what a waste!"

The loud, gruff voice shouted, filled with anger and regret, as if he had just watched a plate of delicious food being dumped down the drain.

The person next to him gently advised, "Although I also feel it's a pity, I can understand it. After all, the situation is already out of control. Are we just going to let this living hell run rampant and expand?"

He chuckled softly, "For safety reasons, almost half of West Virginia is now being forced to evacuate ahead of schedule. When we spoke on the phone this afternoon, our president was as agitated as a bulldog in heat."