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

"Hey bro!" A familiar voice came from behind.

Tieshan turned around and saw Zhao Mang standing not far away, his semi-transparent body gleaming faintly in the eerie green light, his face also filled with bewilderment.

"You died too?" Zhao Mang asked.

"It seems so."

Tieshan said, "I remember being instantly killed by that bastard Allah in one move."

"I was killed by the main gun," Zhao Mang said, flexing his fingers and finding them even more agile than before. "But what's that compared to now?"

"A ghost." A calmer voice came from behind.

The two turned their heads and saw Qin Lie, the oldest of the twenty-one sixth-level martial artists, sitting cross-legged on the ground, closing his eyes to feel the flow of energy within his body.

He opened his eyes, and a ghostly green light flashed within them. "We are now in the form of Yin ghosts."

"Like the ghosts on the battlefield, yet different—we have retained all our memories and consciousness from our previous lives."

"This must be the boss's doing."

Tieshan paused for a moment, then suddenly looked up at the top of the city wall.

He saw Yun Yi.

The figure stood on the city wall, his black robe billowing in the mist, a pair of silver-gray eyes quietly watching him.

"Boss!" Tieshan practically sprang up from the ruins, rushing to the foot of the city wall in a single stride. He looked up, the will-o'-the-wisps flickering in his eye sockets, and cried out, "Boss, are you dead too?"

Yun Yi looked down at him, a slight smile playing on his lips:

"What, are you surprised?"

"No," Tieshan opened his mouth, but in the end only managed to squeeze out one sentence, "Boss, your look is quite unique."

Yun Yi didn't respond, his gaze sweeping across the entire city.

The same scene played out in every corner—the warriors rose from the ruins, looking at themselves and their companions in disbelief, then suddenly realizing what had happened.

Some remained silent, some cursed God, some instinctively searched for their weapons from their previous lives, and some knelt down to pray.

But Yunyi didn't give them much time to process it.

He raised his right hand and spread his five fingers again. This time, what shot out from his palm were thousands of extremely fine black threads.

The threads writhed like living things, shooting towards even more distant places—the corpses of True Bishop soldiers, bone fragments devoured and spat out by the Flesh-Eating Evil God, wasteland observers innocently caught in the crossfire on the battlefield, and even the Templar Knights and parish guards who had died even earlier.

All those who died on this land are included in the scope of resurrection.

What he actually wants to do is "return the memories".

Ghosts without memories are no different from the dead.

To regain memories is tantamount to resurrection.

As for why the enemy should also be resurrected—the show is about to begin, how can it be without an audience?

In an instant, countless gray-white rays of light rose from the ground, intertwining to transform the battlefield ruins spanning thousands of miles into a dazzling, ghostly galaxy.

Every ray of light is the birth of a ghost; every ray of light is a soul pulled back from the void to the present world.

The million fallen soldiers of the True Bishop, the tens of millions of refugees and observers caught in the crossfire—all the dead on this battlefield opened their eyes at that moment.

A ghostly green light shone from the countless newborn eyes, and millions of will-o'-the-wisps danced on the battlefield, turning the entire night sky a ghostly green, like a vast aurora formed from the convergence of souls.

"I...I'm dead, aren't I?" A Templar Knight looked down at his translucent hand, the calluses from gripping his sword still visible on his palm. "His Highness the Holy Son sacrificed us...Shouldn't we be returning to God's embrace?"

Beside him, a young garrison soldier had already started to "cry".

The ghost shed no tears; only low, mournful sobs escaped its throat: "I don't want to be a ghost... I don't want to be a ghost..."

"What happened? Why did we turn into this?"

"God above... Has God abandoned us?"

"By what right does the Holy Son sacrifice us! What have we done wrong?!"

The resurrected True Bishop and his million ghosts instantly descended into immense chaos.

Some knelt and prayed, some cursed, some stood frozen in place, and some frantically tried to purify themselves with the holy light magic they had used in life.

However, their holy light power had long since dissipated along with their lives, and now their bodies were filled only with the yin energy bestowed by Yunyi's domain.

For a ghost to even dream of using holy light is nothing short of a pipe dream.

After a brief period of confusion, the most steadfast believers began to drift toward the broken figure in the sky.

Allah is still standing there.

Despite Shen Ye's broken body, the holy light emanating from him still made these Yin ghosts feel a deep connection to him.

"God!" An elderly man dressed in a cardinal's robe knelt at the front, his hands outstretched to the sky. "Please accept our souls! We died according to Your will, and we wish to serve You in Your Kingdom forever—"

Behind him, countless believers knelt down, eerie green flames flickering in their eye sockets, yet their faces still bore the piety they had shown in life.

"We are the people of God, and we would rather die than change our faith!"

"By the Holy Light, we are Your lambs!"

"God, have mercy on us!"

Hundreds of thousands of ghosts knelt in worship at the same time, creating a spectacular scene.

The gray-white light that covered the mountains and fields was shorter, and the eerie green flames rose and fell on the kneeling bodies, while the prayers gathered into a low, continuous hum.

However, in the sky, God's reaction was completely contrary to their expectations.

God did not bow down.

It didn't care at all about the worshippers kneeling at its feet, not even glancing at them.

At this moment, it had only one thought in its mind: it had lived for countless years, descended upon countless worlds, and annihilated countless enemies, but it had never seen anything as strange and unsolvable as Yun Yi before.

As for the flesh-eating evil god, seeing this scene, he was already somewhat speechless.

Seeing that all the "audience" were in place, Yun Yi took the final step and instantly reached the same height as the two evil gods.

"The stage is set up, and the audience is in position."

He spoke calmly, yet his voice resounded throughout the heavens and earth, carrying an undeniable arrogance and conceit, "Now, please, you two evil gods, begin your performance!"

Below, the followers of the Catholic Church, seeing that Yun Yi dared to insult their faith in this way, immediately began to curse him without hesitation. Some even shouted that Yun Yi was nothing but a clown who would surely kneel down and beg for mercy before God and face judgment.

However, God's next action silenced all the clamor.

Without hesitation, He began to disintegrate Himself, and endless holy light transformed into countless golden specks of light that danced in the sky, like a swarm of startled fireflies, flying rapidly against the night sky towards higher heights.

That's right, God has run away.

Although there are still many beliefs in this world, cutting them off would be like cutting off a piece of its own flesh, but compared to facing Yun Yi, this strange guy, it would rather make a tough decision and give up this world.

At the same time, the flesh-crazed evil god, which had been hovering at the edge of the battlefield, also made the same reaction.

"Hehe... I have to go... Hehehe... Don't chase me... Let's play again next time... Hehehe..."

Its deformed mouth, growing on the surface of flesh, uttered the last syllables intermittently, each syllable carrying a sense of relief and liberation.

Below, the true bishop's followers, seeing their supreme faith run away without hesitation, were all dumbfounded.

In that instant, the magnificent temple of "faith" in their hearts collapsed and shattered into pieces.

Yun Yi stood high in the sky, watching the two figures fleeing in panic, and raised his eyebrows slightly.

The stage is set up, and the audience is in place.

Ha, now you're saying you want to run away?

Did he give permission?

He raised his right hand, fingers spread, aiming at the two figures rapidly disengaging in the sky.

"return."