Mystery: My Encounters with the Celestial God

Chapter 219 Let's Juggle, Mr. Fool! (3.6K)

"Praise be to you, ruler of time and space, your radiance illuminates the endless universe, your knowledge encompasses all dimensions..."

"Great 'One Who Restores All Things,' we salute you, we pray for you, may your radiance shine forever, may your knowledge spread forever..."

"You are the symbol of wealth, the master of that door, the great 'Transcendent One,' the true 'Immortal.'"

The prayers, whether rousing, somber, or rhythmic, echoed in the ears of the great Ron Sothos. These praises sounded so pleasing to the ear at that moment, and they made the ball's heart leap with joy.

Even now, even with the Lord of Mysteries right in front of him, Ron could still pick out many of the other party's good points in his good mood.

For example, His death is now complete, which is undoubtedly a great advantage.

Advantages that are universally acknowledged.

For example, their authority is very useful. In a sense, apart from "witches," extraordinary individuals through the "apprentice" path are loved by extraordinary individuals through all paths.

This is also a very big advantage.

This shows that "Fusheng Xuanhuang Tianzun" is not universally disliked, but is actually quite popular!

Gazing at those points of light, the great "Key to the Gate" intended to personally respond to the prayers of his followers in the Southern Continent.

Just then, a burst of light caught Ron's attention. The prayer had just been made, and its owner was undoubtedly in Backlund.

"It should be my nun."

The blond-haired boy's thoughts flashed through his mind. He then raised his arm and touched the illusory point of light, causing it to suddenly expand and seem to transform into a golden sun.

"Great ruler of time and space, ultimate point of all things, all-knowing and all-seeing infinite wisdom, your servant offers you praise, your servant has questions to ask you."

"In Backlund, your followers are in trouble and need your help. They want to know the whereabouts of the manuscript for the third generation of the Hermeshuriken's Difference Engine."

"Praise be to you, all-knowing and all-seeing, boundless wisdom. That manuscript is related to a boy named Ian Wright, and he seems to be looking for a private detective named Sherlock Moriarty."

"The world's destiny, the end of all things, your poor followers want to know whether purging the 'traitors' is still within your will...?"

"O flower symbolizing wisdom, please convey my prayer to the great God; 'sweetness,' symbolizing all good things, please bring my words before God."

The blond boy watched this scene and unconsciously curled his lip.

Why not just ask me for the manuscript of the Difference Engine directly?

The "endless wisdom" that neither responds to nor listens to prayers thinks thus, without ever reflecting on whether this is actually its own problem.

However, seeing how earnest his followers were, the blond boy felt it was best not to disturb their enthusiasm.

Because it's a good thing that someone is ambitious and doesn't always ask him for things; that's something he appreciates.

"Ian Wright and Sherlock Moriarty, is that right?"

The Great Will began to investigate relevant information about the spirit world, but when it came to a certain great detective, the 'Endless Wisdom's' gaze suddenly paused, and the corner of its mouth twitched.

Huh? Sherlock Moriarty!?

This isn't some detective, isn't this our great "Mr. Fool"?

Why are you so diarrhea after just a few days?

South of the bridge.

Glorious Church.

Hilde was kneeling on the ground, and on the altar in front of the nun, white flowers symbolizing "knowledge" and "wisdom" were scattered on it, and sweet cream cakes and ice cream cones were always present.

At this moment, this ritual of requesting a divine response is like a large "trap," quietly waiting for someone to take the bait.

Suddenly, in the brightly lit chapel at night, a spiritual breeze arose, and Hilde, as a clergyman, had a light flowing in her eyes, as if endless wisdom had descended upon her.

The clergyman suddenly picked up the prepared fountain pen and, trembling and twitching, began to write and draw on the blank page.

One minute, two minutes, three minutes.

The notebook pages were filled with intricate and incomprehensible mechanical diagrams, and the titles on them were: Industrial Foundations and More Advanced Gunpowder Firearms Theory.

Although a small notebook cannot contain all this knowledge, a great invention has thoughtfully compressed it.

This is a gift directly from God, and can be called a sacred object!

After an unknown amount of time, the incongruous bestowal of gifts, which had been inconsistent with the occult ritual before and after, gradually came to an end, completely shattering the divisive atmosphere inside the church.

Such an art style is probably only understandable to members of the Church of the God of Steam and Machines.

"Find him, bring him to my church to praise me, and make him give all his money and perform acrobatics..."

"The defector need not worry..."

Sister Hilde looked at the portrait she had drawn, which depicted the great detective grinning foolishly, unaware of what was about to happen.

She unconsciously murmured, repeating the will of God.

What is the deeper meaning behind God's actions?

Mortals cannot fathom the will of the gods. No matter how outrageous it may seem, there must be secrets hidden behind it that mortals do not know.

Feeling the throbbing pain in his head, the clergyman flipped through his notebook again and realized the preciousness of this divine gift.

This is an important item that can shorten the technological gap between the North and South continents; it is truly a gift from God.

"Mr. Steve, God has answered me..."

……

late at night.

15 Minsk Street.

"Sigh... I never expected my first detective job to be a loss-making deal. It's a pity these can't be reimbursed..."

Looking at the mess in the rented room and the damaged furniture, the detective, who had just returned from the police station, couldn't help but let out a sigh of despair, feeling utterly unlucky.

Perhaps I should be thankful I didn't investigate that magnificent church, otherwise my legs would probably be broken too...

The image of Zeryl's crippled corpse flashed through his mind, and Sherlock Moriarty muttered a bittersweet thought to himself.

Despite the misfortune and the financial losses, life must go on.

A helpless Sherlock Moriarty had no choice but to pull himself together and, dragging his tired body, spend two hours tidying up the messy room.

Only then did he have time to sit on the intact sofa and think about his next move.

That Morso is actually backed by an ambassador from the Kingdom of Intis! Damn, is this what time travelers have to go through—beating the little brat only to have the old one come to the rescue?!

What kind of good luck is this? I hope I don't have any more bad luck.

The thought had barely crossed Klein's mind when he unconsciously shrank back, because he felt a cold wind blowing in from outside the window.

"Wait, where is this cold wind coming from? My windows are tightly closed!"

Suddenly, the guy realized something was wrong. He quickly got up and rolled over. His clown-like intuition told him that a middle-aged man with greasy slicked-back hair had appeared behind him.

With a "bang," his door was suddenly pushed open, and two muscular, greasy-looking, shirtless men rushed in.

The three surrounded the weak, helpless, and pitiful detective, as if they were persecuting those professional soap collectors in prison.

These three people are all extraordinary!

Klein was slightly startled, sensing something was wrong, but he didn't take action first, or run into the street shouting for help.

Because the clown's spiritual intuition didn't sense any malice whatsoever, he instead felt the three burly men's constantly sweeping, scrutinizing gazes.

"Ahem, you three, it's impolite to break into someone's house in the middle of the night."

Besides, I'm a detective; I only sell my skills, not my body...

Feeling the anxious gaze, Klein couldn't help but grumble inwardly.

"You're Sherlock Moriarty?"

After a tense few seconds of silence inside the room, Klein finally heard the greasy, slick-back-haired man who had inexplicably appeared behind him ask a question.

"Yes, gentlemen, we can talk things over calmly. What you're doing is not very polite."

The former Night Watchman used the Joker's abilities to smirk, trying to figure out what the other party's purpose was.

Is he one of the ambassador's people? He doesn't look like it at all, and his attitude is off...

He kept guessing in his mind.

"No need, Mr. Sherlock. Let me explain beforehand: we come from the Radiant Church of Backlund, and God just sent down a divine decree, specifically requesting that you go to the church to praise Him and also perform a juggling act!"

"Where are you going? What are you doing?!"

Klein Moretti froze for a moment, rubbing his ears in disbelief.

The Church of Radiance, isn't that the cult that broke Zeryl's leg? How come they've come knocking on our door so quickly?!

It's for Ian!?

And what is an oracle?!

Why were you specifically asked to go?!

Am I being targeted by an evil god, or has my Fool's disguise been exposed?

At that moment, many question marks appeared above Klein's head.

I just can't understand it, I really can't understand it!

"You three, who is your god...?"

In the end, the former Night Watchman used all of the Joker's extraordinary abilities but still couldn't manage to pull up his heavy smile. He glanced around out of the corner of his eye, seemingly trying to slip away while the three were answering questions.

"Our God is the ruler of time and space, the ultimate point to which all things return to one, and possesses boundless wisdom that is all-knowing and all-seeing!"

"God says that you have blasphemed Him, so He has sent a divine decree that you must go to church to demonstrate your sincerity!"

Damn it, it's that unlucky guy!

As soon as Steve finished speaking, Klein realized who he was talking about!

He was deeply impressed by this god who had been betrayed by his subordinates, after all, "Mr. Fool" often used the other person to warn himself.

Brother, I was just kidding, I didn't mean anything by it, why did you take it seriously?!

Recalling the boasts he made with Mr. Z two weeks ago, "Mr. Fool" finally understood what it meant for life to be unpredictable, like a large intestine enclosing a small intestine.

Sure enough, not long after he finished bragging, the other party sent his followers to come and "get back at him" by name. It seems that if he doesn't agree, he might get his legs broken.

This was not only somewhat comical, but also extremely bizarre and terrifying. Even when facing Megalos, Klein did not feel this powerlessness.

Mr. "The Clown" recalled that he had not recited the other person's honorific name or any title.

Not a single one!

He was being so cautious, and the two sides hadn't had any contact whatsoever, so how did he manage to be targeted by such a petty god?!

This was beyond his imagination and beyond Klein's preconceived notions.

Because it's neither scientific nor mystical!

"Wait, omniscience and omnivision!?"

Suddenly, "Mr. Fool" had an epiphany, realizing the power contained within the other party's prestigious name.

Only the authority of the gods can defy common sense and leave mortals bewildered.

That unlucky fellow was the real deal, a being who could go toe-to-toe with the seven great gods, and His esteemed name was certainly not just an empty shell like mine.

This undoubtedly represents a part of the other party's true nature, a rather terrifying and chilling nature!

Holy crap! He might be watching right here!

"Um, so...it's just an apology and a juggling act?"

Klein gave a mischievous smile and followed his heart's choice.

Of course, compliance is only possible if he has not yet sensed the other party's malice, but only felt their strong sense of wicked pleasure.

Judging from the behavior of evil gods such as the "True Creator," this hidden being only asked to show sincerity and perform tricks after the other party had offended him, which can definitely be called friendly.

There's no other reason; it's all because of how good it looks compared to its competitors!

(End of this chapter)