Reversing Falsehood and Preserving Truth: All Gods and Gods Are in My Hands

The lingering mist, as dark as ink, clung to the window frames of the teaching building, condensing into tiny water droplets that meandered down the glass like wet tear stains.

Three eerie figures slid along the ground as silently as ink seeping into a wall, the traces of their fierce battle with Shen Che's team still lingering—

The lead, thin executor's body was covered with spiderweb-like cracks in its dark gray texture, and dark green slime seeped from the damaged areas. Every movement caused its muscles to twitch and emit a faint hiss. It was the same one that had almost been defeated and fled just now.

To its left is an Executor covered in silver-white scales, with tiny droplets of blood embedded in the gaps between the scales. Its head is triangular, without facial features, except for a vertical slit between its eyebrows that gleams with a cold, eerie light. The Executor on its right is even more bizarre, a flowing liquid that seems to be able to blend into any shadow.

Three enforcers are conducting a thorough search:

The Silverscale Executor swept its vertical slits across the desk drawers in the classroom, its whiskers parting the piles of exam papers;

The liquid agent seeped into the ventilation ducts, spreading along the lines to explore hidden spaces;

The injured, slender executor focused on inspecting the laboratory, his hands brushing over the test tube racks with silken smoothness, his movements so careful as if he were afraid of breaking glass, even deliberately avoiding the slightest movement of the instruments.

Their purpose is definitely not destruction and killing.

The reagents in the chemistry lab and the specimens in the biology lab failed to attract their attention. Finally, three figures stopped at the door of the physics lab.

The slender executor flicked his finger, and the door lock clicked open silently. The silver-scaled executor rushed in first, a bright light flashing between his brows, finally settling on the glass cabinet in the corner—

An irregularly shaped "ore" the size of a fist lay quietly, with a white label next to it that read: "Unknown natural ore, donated by materials scientist Mr. Chang Guangming, containing an unresolved periodic lattice structure."

This "ore" is no ordinary thing!

Its surface gleams with a delicate pearlescent sheen, and its internal crystal lattice structure is clearly visible, consisting of neatly nested hexagonal layers that seem to slowly contract and expand as if they were alive.

When the light from the Silverscale Executor's brow swept across at a specific angle, the ore suddenly refracted yellow, cyan, red, purple, and green light. The colored light, like living things, intertwined into a net, flowing half a circle inside the glass case before turning into light spots and disappearing into the depths of the crystal lattice, exuding an indescribable mystery.

Its texture appears hard, yet it has a soft, translucent quality under light. Its irregular edges bear the marks of cracks from a collision, clearly indicating that it is a fragment of an object that was broken.

The slender executor gently reached into the glass case, avoiding the sharp edges, and steadily lifted the "ore". As soon as it touched the surface of the ore, it trembled violently, and dark green viscous liquid gushed out. It was obviously stimulated by the energy of the ore, but it still held on tightly, as if afraid of the slightest bump.

The liquid executors emitted a low hum, as if signaling the completion of their mission. The three figures did not linger, retreating along the same route. The liquid material vanished as it left trails, disappearing without a trace, and sped towards the playground—their mission was accomplished.

In the center of the playground, nearly ten thousand translucent, misty cocoons densely covered the ground, like amber shrouded in mist.

Some of the cocoon walls glowed faintly, and the teachers and students inside had their eyes closed, with tiny points of light shining between their brows. Energy flowed rapidly along the patterns on the cocoon walls, surging towards the huge gray mist in the center of the playground like streams flowing into the sea—the very body of the advanced executor.

Some cocoon walls had lost their luster, turning gray and dull. The teachers and students inside had empty eyes and their chests no longer rose and fell; they were clearly lifeless, empty shells drained of their vitality. The patterns on the cocoon walls were solidified like dead ink, exuding an indescribable eeriness against the backdrop of the gray mist.

Shen Che and the others hid in the shadows behind the stands. The shadowy figure beneath his feet shrank into a thin line, clinging tightly to the ground. The red light in his eyes burned fiercely as he locked onto the gray mist. The short blade in his hand gleamed coldly, yet he dared not make the slightest move.

The blood scabs on Lao Zhang's back were pressed by the oppressive force, causing fresh blood to seep out. The light brown barrier shrank into a thin shell, its edges trembling slightly under the erosion of the gray mist. Xiao Song's bright white orb was as dim as a candle, its halo less than three meters wide, and his face was as pale as paper. Xiao Lin leaned against the pillar of the stands, his pale green sensory light flickering weakly, like a candle flickering in the wind, barely managing to capture the misty cocoon and the state of the teachers and students.

Compared to top-tier high-level executors, the strength and realm of ordinary guardians are far inferior.

The oppressive aura of the high-ranking executor enveloped the entire area, the air thickened like lead, and breathing caused a tightness in the chest. The power of the Great Dao stagnated in the meridians as if glued together, each pulse accompanied by a dull pain. The gray mist swirled slowly, and misty tentacles occasionally emerged, landing above the energy cocoon. The patterns on the cocoon wall would flow faster, and the energy would be absorbed more quickly.

It didn't attack; it just hovered in the fog, like a patient hunter waiting for its prey to ripen, exuding a suffocating stillness.

"Their goal isn't killing." Shen Che's voice was extremely low, his Adam's apple bobbing with suppressed heaviness. "Those two executors escaped earlier, and now they're here absorbing some kind of energy..."

Senior Li's rune-inscribed longsword glowed with a faint red light, and the runes on the blade trembled violently under the pressure: "I might have guessed it... but let's wait and see."

Within the mist, the light from the misty cocoon flickered, and the gray mist surrounding the high-level executor grew increasingly dense, nearly doubling in size, with its oppressive aura surging accordingly. The calm before the storm enveloped the entire training ground.

In the illusion—

In the instant that the consciousness of nearly ten thousand teachers and students broke free from chaos, there was no darkness as expected. Instead, a warm, milky fragrance enveloped them, like a freshly sun-dried quilt pressing down on their bodies, making even their pores open up. The touch was as soft as soaking in warm milk, or sinking into sun-dried clouds. Even their breath carried a sweet warmth. The violence and anxiety from the previous illusion completely dissipated, leaving only a comfortable and languid feeling.

Lu Yu suddenly opened his eyes and found himself lying on his grandmother's bed in her old house.

The familiar enamel mug sat on the bedside table, filled with dried wild chrysanthemums. The bitter aroma of the tea mingled with the savory scent of stewed pork ribs wafting from the kitchen, a warmth that made my eyelids heavy. Hanging on the wall was a certificate for being a model student in elementary school, and on the corner of the table lay a blue cloth schoolbag mended by my grandmother. Outside the window, the leaves rustled, the rhythm of their movement exactly like a summer afternoon from my memory.

The runes on his palm were slightly warm, as if issuing a faint warning, but the scene was too tempting, and that slight agitation was instantly submerged in the warmth that filled his heart.

What softened his heart the most was that his grandmother was sitting on a small stool in the main room sewing shoe soles. As the silver needle darted through the air, her familiar voice drifted over: "Xiaoyu, are you awake? Are you craving something from the smell? The ribs are all stewed until they're tender. I'll serve you some to satisfy your craving in a bit."

Her hair was gray, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were deep and soft. Her sewing basket was placed at her feet, filled with spools of thread of various colors, exactly as he remembered her.

Here, there are no piles of high school exam papers, no ethereal tentacles, no pressure from the Great Dao, no need to study until late at night, no need to worry about unexpected attacks, and no need to fret day and night about Grandma's disappearance—

Grandma sat beside me, the aroma of food filling the air, a peaceful scene like a dream from which I would never wake.

Lu Yu's throat tightened, and his eyes instantly welled up with tears. He raised his hand and slowly reached out towards his grandmother's hand.

Those hands, calloused from years of hard work, were his warmest comfort during his childhood. A tingling warmth emanated from his fingertips; he longed to touch that familiar, rough texture, yet he also felt that this warmth was too deliberate. But the longing in his heart overwhelmed that doubt like a tidal wave.

The fingertips were just an inch away from the calluses on Grandma's hands.