Cthulhu America, I can see the kill line.

"And the only way to remove that mark is through death."

These words from Farah were tantamount to a death sentence for Conju.

The latter could not escape from here, nor could they defeat the Purple Light Cult Master, whose attributes were as high as 58 points.

Kong Jiu fell silent.

He stood there, whether pondering a way out of the predicament or so desperate that he had no energy left to think.

He simply sat down on the cold marble beneath his feet.

"Cause and effect,"

Perhaps due to utter despair, Kong Jiu's tone was terrifyingly calm, so calm that even he himself questioned why he was so calm. "I need all the causes and consequences."

Farah stared at Kong Jiu unmoved, and after a long while, sighed.

"If this is your request, I'd be happy to talk about it, after all, it's my dear friend's last wish."

The Purple Light Cult Leader, who was known to the outside world as a ruthless killer who drank blood and ate flesh, had a somewhat dazed look in his eyes.

"My homeland, the British Isles of the Illusionary Tree Realm, speaks English just like Amerigo, but the biggest difference is that it acknowledges the existence of an extraordinary power called magic and has a technology called engraving."

The so-called engraving is a technique that allows one to pass on all the extraordinary skills, magic, and pathways learned throughout one's life to the successor through engraving.

After arriving in Amerigo, I met Oscar.

We, being like-minded, quickly became friends. After exchanging ideas, we learned that the psychic energy in this land was a kind of extraordinary power similar to the magic of my hometown.

How similar are they? So similar that their engravings are actually interchangeable!

At this point, Farah raised his hand and rolled up his sleeves.

Beneath her fair skin, faint blue light flowed, forming a blue array resembling an integrated circuit.

"Magic circuits, the name of the extraordinary power of my homeland, but in the psionicists of this continent, they can actually be transmitted through willpower."

Upon hearing this, Kong Jiu also raised his hand and pulled up his sleeve.

Sure enough, beneath his pale yellow skin, the faint traces of the circumference were visible in the flesh and blood of the back of his forearm.

He had noticed this before and thought it was 'psychic awakening that opened up the Ren and Du meridians'.

So this is called a magic imprint?

"It was from that moment that Oscar and I decided to divide the work and learn a magic trick... an extremely difficult one, but one that could save countless lives—Time Control!"

With that, Farah waved his hand and opened a subspace portal.

The door wasn't large, but it was large enough for Kong Jiu to see the scene behind it.

The scene was utterly otherworldly: neon towers pierced the clouds, maglev trains moved silently through transparent tubes, and a futuristic metropolis woven from steel and flowing light was shaking Kong Jiu's eyes with its technological might.

The word "future" was etched into Kong Jiu's heart through this door.

"The part I studied involved using the unpredictable flow of time in subspace to plan and customize domains with varying time flows, sending people into them to build the future."

Farah looked at the scene behind the door and proudly introduced it to Kong Jiu.

"How about it? I saved these people in the lower city who would have died in famine, from the boosters, from the snowstorms; and I put them directly into the future, creating a tomorrow full of infinite possibilities."

With such achievements and great deeds, am I not worthy to be called the supreme ruler of an era and the head of a religion?

Clearly, Farah was happy to show this image to others.

"How wonderful..."

Looking at the world beyond the door, a world full of endless possibilities, Kong Jiu murmured to himself, lost in thought.

"I've seen plenty of people who live in the past, but this is the first time I've seen someone escape to the future."

As he spoke, a slight smile curved at the corners of Kong Jiu's lips:

"However, Master Farah, after seeing this scene, I can understand everything now."

A faint hint of apprehension flashed in Farah's eyes, but he calmly replied, "Oh, Mr. Kong, what makes you say that?"

Kong Jiu grinned and pointed to the door:

"If I'm not mistaken, this future requires a large number of sacrifices, or some other price, right? For example, is it a situation where one can only enter and not leave? Or is it a situation where only the souls of the dead can enter?"

As expected, upon hearing this, Farah's serene expression darkened slightly.

Kong Jiu caught this subtle change in expression.

How did he come to this conclusion?

It's very simple, because of the bloody "room of sin" he once entered.

That half-day was enough for a little girl to spend seven years in the infernal hell where she became an executioner.

The Purple Light Church was carrying out mass executions and dismembering of innocent people caught in its clutches, the execution platform soaked in blood.

However, at the same time, the Purple Light Cult was so short-handed that they had to capture mutated ratmen, whom Squich called "weak," to use as labor.

If the future behind that door is as wonderful as the leader of the Farah Church said, then why would the Purple Light Cult send so many people to hell to be executed when it was short of manpower and had to seek help from the Ratmen?

This is the first point that doesn't make any sense at all.

Furthermore, the simple and honest look in Samael's eyes, despite being such an extremely wicked person tainted by the enhancer, was by no means fake.

Let's assume that, as Farah claims, there really is such a future utopia.

The Purple Light Cult, which is short of manpower, should brainwash people they capture and stuff them into those "time flow different" crash courses to grow rapidly and mass-produce troops, instead of killing people to seize their organs?

These two fatal errors were exposed by Kong Jiu, a man who had returned from hell.

He gave a cold laugh and looked at Farah, who was still pretending to be calm: "If you're not willing to be honest, I don't care."

But the next sentence made Farah's face turn completely dark.

"However, I'd like to make a small assumption: if I'm not mistaken, this method of transferring the so-called imprint would have to be voluntarily transferred to you before my death, right?"

Farah's lips twitched, and the composure on her face was finally completely torn away.

You guessed right.

Seeing this change in expression, Kong Jiu couldn't help but smile.

The instant he exposed Farah's performance showcasing the future and realized that this notion of "the future" was utter nonsense, Kongjiu immediately began to consider another illogical point:

Why would Farah lie to himself?

Why bother deceiving yourself when you might be exposed?

If the only way to transfer this so-called imprint to him is through his own death, then why doesn't this cult leader just kill and rob him directly?

Kong Jiu was certainly not naive enough to believe that this villain, who could carry out bloody sacrifices, would go on and on about some "last wish of a close friend."

What is his purpose in wasting his breath on me?

The answer popped right out of my memory.

This man, you must willingly give him what he wants!

Typical cult tactics!

The instant he reached this conclusion, Kong Jiu had a flash of inspiration and recalled what Oscar looked like before he died.

All the memories were pieced together, and the answer was found.

Oscar's struggling gaze before his death, and the note left on his body after his passing, both bluntly told him one thing:

Those demonic eyes that could see the kill line, and the ability to travel through subspace, were both gifts that Oscar voluntarily gave him.

He even called himself a "gentleman of the future".

There was no resentment or reluctance; it was all done voluntarily!

Therefore, if it could be forcibly taken away, the moment Kong Jiu stepped into this church, Farah, that ruthless and sadistic killer, would probably have already torn him apart!

Having arrived at all the answers, Kong Jiu smiled as he looked at Farah's now gloomy face.

"Master Farah, am I right? Could you please give me an answer?"

Farah's serene demeanor had long since vanished.

"No wonder he can wander the lower city doing good deeds in this chaotic world, a messenger chosen by King Squiche, an Easterner who inherited the will of my dearest friend. His wisdom and his stubborn way of thinking are truly admirable."

He adopted the indifference expected of a cult leader, a hint of helplessness flashing in his eyes, and nodded.