He has been reincarnated through countless worlds, adorned with billions of mythological terms!

Outside the realm of trials.

Shen Ye stood amidst the ruins of the flagship's bridge, his right hand still gripping the lingering shadow of the spear of judgment after it had been thrown, while his left hand held a book.

The book was small, about the size of an adult's palm, and the cover was made of some kind of pale leather with fine textures, the material of which was indiscernible.

The edges of the pages were a worn, yellowish-brown, without any golden holy light surrounding it, no runes flowing across the cover, and none of the grandeur or imposing presence one would expect from a divine artifact.

It lay quietly in Shen Ye's left hand, as still as a tattered notebook casually tossed aside at a street-side used bookstore.

But it was this book that made the veins on Shen Ye's hand bulge as he held it.

The Book of Oblivion.

The most mysterious of the three sacred artifacts of the true bishop, and the only one that has been sealed in the deepest part of the Holy Land since the beginning of the church, and which no pope has ever had the right to touch.

Its effect is simple—to make any thing, any concept, any ability completely forgotten from this world.

Whether the Spear of Judgment can kill Yun Yi, Shen Ye doesn't know.

But a person who can look down on a million-strong army from ten thousand meters above the ground, extinguish all holy light with six words, and shatter the sacred chains of heaven with a ten-thousand-foot-tall Dharma form will never be easily killed by the Judgment Domain.

Therefore, he did not gamble on the power of the spear of judgment.

His gamble was to make Yun Yi forget his trump card.

The other party's confidence suggests they are hiding something.

He didn't know what the trump card was, nor did he need to know.

If you let the other party forget it on their own, it's as if you have no cards to play.

To start this book, Shen Ye paid off half of his lifespan.

He was only ten years old.

With his current level of cultivation, he should have lived for at least several thousand more years.

The cost of activating the Book of Oblivion varies from person to person—the stronger the goal, the greater the cost.

In order to make a person with authority forget his trump card, he gave up half of his remaining lifespan.

At this moment, Shen Ye felt like a piece of old cloth that had been torn in half.

The original vitality was drained from the body, leaving behind an empty, cold, and weak feeling, as if the bone marrow had been frozen.

His hair turned white in large patches from the roots, like clumps of withered reeds.

The once smooth and firm skin lost its elasticity at a visible rate, and fine wrinkles appeared at the corners of the eyes and mouth, cutting the smile that had not yet faded from the corners of the mouth into fragments.

His back involuntarily hunched for a moment, then he forced himself to straighten up again—the thought of having half his life taken away was far less important to him than another thought.

He didn't turn around, but he sensed it.

Behind him, at the wound on his left palm pierced by the Spear of Judgment, along the trail of the golden threads of holy light that had spread out when he sacrificed the million-strong army, the summoning ritual he had prepared was operating on its own.

God has come.

This is Shen Ye's true final step.

The sacrifice of a million soldiers was the first step, and his own lifespan as a sacrifice was the second step.

At this moment, his body was flowing with holy light energy drawn from millions of believers, his soul was wrapped with the imprint of laws left by the Book of Oblivion, and his will was being repeatedly torn apart by the aftershocks of the Spear of Judgment—all of these were sacrifices.

They paved the way with the blood and flesh of millions of believers, knocked on doors with half their own lives, used the three sacred artifacts as tokens, and then offered the final sacrifice to Allah.

Shen Ye turned around and walked to the center of the summoning ritual.

The Son of God is not only at the pinnacle of power, but also the best vessel for God's descent into the world.

The deck beneath his feet was covered with dense holy runes, each one painstakingly carved by him with the tip of the Spear of Judgment, every line imbued with his blood and the golden bone dust of millions of believers.

Bathed in holy light, these lines are slowly writhing, like a network of blood vessels awakening.

Shen Ye looked down at the patterns for a long time.

He recalled the faces of those who died on the way through the eighty-six worlds of reincarnation.

He recalled his companions from his early years who had entered the cycle of reincarnation with him, only to fall one by one.

She recalled the moment she was forced to bow her head to Yun Yi in the Hall of Reincarnation.

He was not reconciled.

If he had more reincarnations, more resources, and more time—he too could become a powerful figure, standing on a high platform looking down upon all living beings, without having to suffer that humiliation.

But things are different now.

As long as he kills the other party, he can also stand at that height and look down on all living beings; he can also become a person with authority.

Shen Ye lifted his foot and stepped into the pillar of light at the center of the ceremony.

The edge of the pillar of light began to tremble violently the moment he stepped in, and golden flames erupted from the bottom, spreading upwards along his legs, burning away all the filth and impurities within him to make him a perfect vessel to bear the will of God.

The temperature of the holy flame was high enough to melt steel, but Shen Ye did not feel any burning pain—this pain was insignificant compared to his previous experiences.

He simply tilted his head back, gazing at the sky above, bathed in holy light and turning golden, and with the last vestiges of his voice, uttered his final words:

"Supreme God—in the name of my Son, with the sacrifice of a million believers, and with the three sacred artifacts as my guide, I summon your descent."

"I only ask—"

"Destroy Youdu and kill Yun Yi."

The sky cracked open.

An invisible giant hand tore open the crack from the inside.

White flames burned at the edge of the crack. The flames had no temperature and did not burn any material, but everyone who saw them felt a deep fear of being melted away.

Behind the crack, the golden ocean boiled.

The vertical pupil moved slowly forward, and with each step it took, the crack widened by ten feet, and the oppressive force seeping from the crack grew heavier.

On the battlefield, the soldiers who had already fainted began to twitch unnaturally, and fine golden lines appeared on their skin, as if something was drilling out of their bodies.

Even the fourth-tier martial artists of Youdu began to feel difficulty breathing, as if a huge rock was pressing on their chests, and each heartbeat was more labored than the last.

Then, God descended.

It has no complete form, no loving face as depicted in the scriptures, and no radiant, sacred figure that cannot be looked at directly.

Emerging from that crack was a pure, boundless golden light.

The light, like both liquid and gas, poured down from the crack, gathering, churning, and expanding in mid-air, eventually coalescing into a blurry human-shaped outline.

The humanoid silhouette was about a hundred feet tall, its entire body composed of flowing golden holy light. It had no facial features, no fingers, and nothing that could be called "details".

It was merely a ball of light forcibly shaped into a human form, the closest form of "manifestation" that an evil god from outside the world could find in this world.

But it was this blurry, almost detailless outline of light that inspired an irresistible urge to kneel before everyone on the battlefield.

Just like an ant isn't afraid when it sees a person's foot stepping down, because the ant doesn't understand the concept of "foot" at all; it only knows that something far beyond its cognitive scope is approaching.

God descended into Shen Ye's body.

In the center of the bridge ruins, Shen Ye stood in the golden pillar of light, his body no longer the aged figure he had just appeared in.

The half of his lifespan taken by the Book of Oblivion, the life force burned when he sacrificed a million soldiers, the energy tear left in his body by the Spear of Judgment—all these damages were repaired the moment God's will descended.

His white hair was dyed gold again, purer and more dazzling than before, with each strand emitting a faint golden glow.

The wrinkles on his face were smoothed out, and his skin became as smooth as a baby's, but there was no trace of the boy "Shen Ye" left in his eyes—his eyes had become pure gold vertical pupils, cold and ruthless, exactly like the eyes in the crack in the sky.