The job change is a bizarre and calamity; the nation begs me to tone it down.

Gregory took out the tattered book from his bosom; it was the tattered original containing the rules of judgment.

"The devouring of the past will inevitably establish some kind of cause and effect."

"That boy named Gu Xu thought he was swallowing food, but he didn't know that it was a signpost to hell."

Gregory bit his finger and drew a twisted cross on the crack in the code.

The torches on the wall swayed wildly like will-o'-the-wisps that could be extinguished at any moment.

As Gregory slammed his hand down, the chains on the altar emitted a grating, screeching sound.

"Aaaaaaahhhhh..."

The forty-two blood relatives of Augustus let out mournful screams, as if their life force had been forcibly ripped away by some invisible force.

Those blood vessels throbbed in the grooves of the altar like dying fish.

The blood stopped flowing downwards and instead climbed upwards along the runes, eventually coalescing into a huge, writhing blood sphere.

Inside the blood sphere flickered images of Augustus's life: his terror before death and his extreme hatred for Gu Xu.

Fear seeped into everyone's bones like a chill.

Even the most battle-hardened Templar Knights couldn't help but grip their sword hilts tightly at this moment.

This secret technique, known as the "Bloodborne Curse," is a forbidden art kept at the Vatican's most treasured secret.

It doesn't need to directly touch the target; as long as the target devours the victim's flesh or soul, it can use that as a coordinate.

To send the most vicious curse into the other person's body.

Gu Xusheng swallowed Augustus, which means he personally planted the bomb in his own stomach.

Gregory's fingers were withered and dry like wood as he frantically channeled his resentment and blood into a fusion.

He poured a black liquid into the cracks in the code.

That was the withering water from the deepest part of the abyss.

"Feel this curse that comes from your bloodline."

Gregory murmured, his eyes so sinister they seemed to see right through the space around him.

As the head of the last blood relative fell, the temperature in the entire underground palace plummeted to freezing.

The blood sphere in the center of the altar suddenly exploded, but no pieces of flesh flew out.

Instead, a thick, dark red smoke appeared, so dense it couldn't dissolve.

The red smoke, like the tentacles of a living creature, explored the air, eventually coalescing into a huge and menacing shadow.

The shadow was about five meters tall, wearing a tattered black robe, and holding a long scythe made of white bones.

This is not the real Grim Reaper, but a bizarre product of rules forcibly pieced together by the Papacy's rules of judgment and the resentment of the Augustus family.

The phantom of Death slowly raised its head, revealing only a bottomless void beneath its hood.

It scanned the survivors in the hall and suddenly opened its mouth.

It emitted a sharp, ear-piercing laugh.

The laughter was like fingernails scraping against glass, sharp and piercing.

Gregory showed no fear in the face of this terrifying phantom; instead, he appeared unusually fanatical.

He knew the ceremony had been a success.

This level of curse transcends the limitations of rank and belongs to the punishment of causality.

"Go, follow the bloodline connection, and find that raider."

Gregory pointed to the coordinates of the Silvermoon Realm shown in the code: "Let him know what true suffering is when he is at his most triumphant."

The phantom of death let out another eerie laugh, and it swung its bone scythe violently, slicing a blood-red rift in the void.

Immediately afterwards, the tall figure transformed into a wisp of crimson smoke, disappearing into the crevice without a trace.

The air underground was as heavy and oppressive as a thick sheet of lead, making it hard to breathe.

As the phantom disappeared, the red light surrounding the altar quickly dimmed.

Gregory looked at the corpses scattered on the ground, his face devoid of any pity, only a morbid sense of satisfaction.

He waved, signaling the knights to clean up the scene.

"Clean this place up and say that the entire Augustan family was martyred in the fight against heresy."

Gregory gave the order in a nonchalant tone, as if he were dealing with a pile of garbage.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Gregory emerged from the underground palace and returned to the sunless corridor.

"Gregory, you're moving too slowly over there."

Suddenly, a voice appeared behind Gregory.

The voice sounded somewhat displeased: "Besides, this thing of yours might not even be useful!"

Gregory didn't turn around, but let out a hoarse laugh: "Heh... You should have faith in the judgment of the Holy Light. The curse has been cast. Even if he is truly an ancient god incarnate, as long as he is still a mortal, he cannot withstand the sacrifice of forty-two holy blood relatives."

"That's for the best," the voice scoffed.

"Then let's wait for good news." Gregory shook his head slightly and looked out the window.

Although it was daytime, the cumulonimbus clouds over Europa remained deep and heavy.

Meanwhile, on the border of South India, war had broken out completely.

In order to build momentum for this joint operation, and also to avenge Gu Xu for killing Singh.

The South Indian Empire mobilized almost all of its main forces.

Although their legion was not led by a demigod, it was still a vast army of job changers covering the mountains and plains.

This still put immense pressure on the Baxia Legion of Shenxia.

In the distant northwest, in the shadow of the Hengduan Mountains, the Elven army's halt to their attack was indeed, as Li Suyuan had predicted, the beginning of a conspiracy.

Beneath the staff of High Priest Elonnis, a massive, withered ancient tree is slowly awakening.

……

The Silver Moon Realm, on the sunny side, the Silver Moon Flower Garden.

When the dizzying sensation of spatial tearing completely subsided, it was replaced by a chilling cold that was so intense it almost froze one's soul.

This cold is different from the bone-chilling cold of the previous frozen winter plains.

It's more like a kind of loneliness, an absolute and unchanging sense of solitude.

Gu Xu slowly opened his eyes.

What you see is no longer snow, nor dense forest.

"Holy crap..."

Even Qin Shuyao, who comes from a wealthy family and has seen the world, couldn't help but gape when she saw Gu Xu standing next to him.

He let out a gasp of utter astonishment, clearly someone who had never seen anything like it before.

Lei Zhen and Tie Shan instinctively gripped their weapons tighter.

It's as if only in this way can they bring themselves a sense of security.

Before them stretched an endless grassland.

But the grass here is neither green nor withered yellow; it is a deep blue with a semi-transparent texture.

They swayed gently in the breeze, the tips of each blade of grass.

Each one was suspended by a tiny, firefly-like starlight.

When millions of star grasses gather together, they form a dazzling sea of ​​stars reflected on the earth.

And in the far distance of the horizon, at the edge of that starlit grassland, a river so wide that it cannot be measured by the naked eye stretches across the sky and the earth.

The river water is not a liquid, but rather flowing silvery dust.

It's like a jade ribbon cascading down from the Milky Way, dividing this world in two.