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

The moss on the walls of Grandma Lu Yu's old house was bluish-black, and the distorted symbols drawn on it had an eerie red hue.

The symbols were not random; fine lines, barely perceptible to the naked eye, meandered along the wall, weaving together like a spider web to form a mysterious magic circle. Dark light flowed deep within the lines, exuding a chilling and eerie aura.

More than twenty mysterious figures, their black robes trailing on the ground, stood around the magic circle, holding objects engraved with strange patterns in their hands. Their chanting was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing together, creating a suffocating and eerie aura that echoed the faint energy fluctuations coming from the direction of the school in the distance.

"Use blood as a catalyst!" They cut open their forearms one after another, and dark red blood dripped from their fingertips, falling into the magic circle patterns and moving quickly like venomous snakes. The air was filled with a strange atmosphere of blood and illusion.

"Return to the True Self and Live Forever!" The middle-aged man who led the group stood at the core of the magic circle. His black robe was embroidered with intricate patterns. He was the leader who had attacked Lu Yu at the old house last time.

He formed a hand seal, his palms glowing with a dark purple power of the Great Dao, which he slowly poured into the magic array. His voice was filled with a seductive fervor, "The executors have already begun their operation, and the forces of the Guardian Bureau are also tied down by them. Now is the only chance to escape the prison of illusion and reach the other side of truth! Return to truth and live forever!"

The surrounding cultists had bloodshot eyes, and each of them bore the marks of persecution by the spirits.

Some people had blackened family photos hanging on their chests. The place where their wives and children should have been in the photos was now empty. The ethereal family members who were killed by his own hands after triggering their instincts had long been erased from the world's rules.

Someone clutched a worn-out old watch, with the word "Peace" engraved on the inside of the watch cover. It was the only relic left behind by the child who was devoured by the spirits years ago.

There was also a middle-aged woman with a scar visible on her collar, a mark left when her husband, who was a spirit, attacked her. She clutched the scar, her chanting filled with suppressed sobs.

"Returning to the true self is eternal!"

A tall, thin cult member suddenly roared, his voice tearing through the air, "My wife is a ghost! We've shared a bed for five years, and that night she suddenly transformed, her tentacles wrapping around my neck. I risked my life to cut off her tentacles, but when I woke up, the whole world had forgotten her existence. Even the photos only show me! This world is so fake!"

"My parents too!"

Another young believer, tears mingling with dust, broke down in tears, crying, "They taught me to be kind, but then they wanted to devour me to 'correct the anomalies'! There's no true love in this world, only endless deception! Believing in truth is the only salvation, and finally I can go to a world full of real humans!"

"Returning to the true self is eternal!"

The fervent emotions spread like a plague, and the chanting of the believers grew more urgent, resonating with the energy of the magic circle. A dark red, illusory aura soared into the sky, making the surrounding air thick and black.

"You bunch of lunatics!"

A furious shout shattered the eerie atmosphere. Old Zhou emerged from the alleyway, wrench in hand. His sharp eyes swept over the fanatical cultists scattered on the ground, his voice filled with suppressed rage: "So it was you who colluded with the Executors to drag the entire Central Continent into danger? Do you know how many teachers and students in the school will be killed?"

The middle-aged man leading the group turned around: "Who are you? Mind your own business! This world is a prison of illusion! The ethereal beings are the guards of this prison, and humans are the prisoners waiting to be slaughtered. Yet the Bureau of Truth protects this false prison and refuses to set us free!"

He gestured for the followers to continue the ritual: "This world is rotten to the core, filled with false spirits. Family ties are fake, friendships are fake. We must open a passage to the real human world!"

"The real human world? Hahaha!"

Old Zhou laughed in fury, twirling the wrench in his palm. "What do you know! The land beneath your feet, the belongings of your loved ones you clutch, the pain that haunts your midnight dreams—it's all real!"

"Bullshit!" The tall, thin cultist suddenly rushed forward, his wooden stick whistling as it hurtled towards Old Zhou. "You have no idea the terror of waking up every day to check if the people around you are spirits! You have no idea the pain of watching your loved ones turn into monsters!"

Old Zhou dodged to the side, and the wrench struck the wooden stick precisely with a crisp "clang," breaking the stick in two.

He kicked the other man in the chest and said in a deep voice, "I know more than you! This isn't a passage to the human world at all, but a seal to suppress the will of the Primordial Ruins. You're inviting trouble!"

"What is Yuanxu? Do you think we'll believe your one-sided story? Hurry up and deal with him, don't let him stop us from going home!" The middle-aged man leading the group was extracting his Dao power from his body and injecting it into the magic array, rendering him unable to move.

"I want to go home!"

More cultists surged forward, some wielding iron bars, others pulling out daggers, their moves ruthless and driven by a mad suicidal intent. Old Zhou, though advanced in years, moved with the agility of a young man, the wrench dancing in his hands like a blur, each strike precisely hitting the cultists' weapons or joints, the dull thuds and the cultists' roars echoing through the courtyard.

However, with too many followers, Lao Zhou gradually lost ground.

A cultist attacked him from behind, slashing his shoulder with a dagger, instantly soaking his work clothes with blood. Old Zhou grunted, then used a wrench to knock the attacker unconscious, only to be struck in the lower back by a steel pipe from another cultist. He staggered and crashed into a door frame, a metallic taste of blood oozing from his mouth.

The middle-aged man leading the group had already extracted most of his Dao power. The patterns on the magic array flickered violently, and a dark red, illusory aura soared into the sky like a thick column of smoke. "The doctrine of the Return to Truth states that breaking the seal of this illusory cage will open the entrance to the real world! We can't wait any longer!"

His eyes were filled with a fanatical longing, and his voice was seductive: "No spirits, no deception, only real humans like us around—that's our home!"

Old Zhou stood up, leaning against the door frame. Blood from his shoulder dripped down his arm and onto the edge of the magic circle.

The dark red, illusory aura rushed towards him, like countless fine needles piercing his meridians. Strangely, he did not feel any discomfort. Instead, his blood began to boil, and the dormant power within him was instantly awakened—it was the raging frenzy of his ethereal instincts stimulated by the illusory aura, yet he firmly controlled it within his body.

"Your home?" Old Zhou grinned, revealing two yellowed teeth, a glint of inhuman crimson flashing in his eyes. "I've had enough of you self-righteous fools!"

He exerted his strength suddenly, and a strange energy fluctuation rippled around his body. The pain from his wounds instantly dissipated, and his speed and strength increased several times over.

The cultists who had previously managed to restrain him were now utterly helpless in his presence. With a swing of his wrench, he sent three people flying in succession, the crisp sound of bones breaking echoing around them.

A cultist lunged at him with a dagger, but Old Zhou dodged to the side and swung his wrench at the man's knee. The man screamed and fell to his knees, the dagger flying out of his hand.

The middle-aged man in the lead stared at Old Zhou in disbelief, his pupils shrinking sharply: "Impossible! What exactly are you?"