Cthulhu America, I can see the kill line.

The smoking muzzle of the submachine gun was slowly lowered, and a look of confusion and emptiness flashed in old Henry's eyes.

The young man from the East lay motionless in a pool of blood.

The cold, damp wind outside quickly thickened and darkened the blood, causing it to spread slowly on the icy ground.

How many times has he killed someone in the past forty years?

How many times in the past forty years has blood seeped into this sacred land?

Old Henry asked himself this question inwardly, his brows furrowing unconsciously.

I don't know, he hasn't counted.

Perhaps they simply don't want to count?

People will always accidentally wander into this secluded sanctuary.

"This little chapel looks very well-preserved from the outside. I happened to pass by it while hiking and decided to go in and take a look."

"You must be Saint Henry Robertson? Your church reforms were very forward-thinking; why didn't you continue them?"

"Old Henry, it's me. We used to go to the monastery together as kids, and we'd even put ashes in the priest's communion bread together, don't you remember?"

Faces flashed through Henry's mind: one after another, they stepped into the altar, offering him words of comfort, and then their pupils shrunk and lifeless. Each face was so clear it stung his nerves.

No, they are not human.

They are all demons disguised as humans!

They would always find some excuse to break into this sanctuary and get closer to themselves.

No, it's not about getting closer to oneself, it's about getting closer to the stone box!

This stone box seals away sin and blasphemous thirst for knowledge!

Old Henry was in a state of turmoil, breathing rapidly, his chest heaving violently.

He tried to calm himself and regain his piety by taking deep breaths.

Finally, his gaze shifted from panic to icy coldness, his eyes like knives, falling upon the young body lying in the pool of blood.

This time, the demon, disguised as a human, finally had enough of the disguise tricks and directly reached out for the stone box!

When the corpse came into view, Henry's aged face no longer showed any remorse, only a numb resolve.

The submachine gun in his hand flashed with golden light and transformed into a pair of bone saws and a sharp knife.

It's time to clean up the mess.

Old Henry, with a cold and indifferent expression, slowly walked towards the young man lying in a pool of blood.

Before becoming a priest, he was a psionicist in the Alchemist Path and the Transcendental School.

From the age of seven, when his psychic talents were discovered in the monastery, he began learning an alchemical technique called "Transformation".

This technique is not complicated; it involves dedicating one's entire life to perfecting a single magical artifact, adding circuits and engravings to it over time, and maintaining it with spiritual energy.

That scripture was the ritual implement that had accompanied him for over sixty years.

Henry, through daily companionship and the combination of his spiritual and mental power, was able to transform it into hundreds of objects he needed.

It can be said that most of Henry's skills are contained in this book.

At the age of eighteen, he graduated from the monastery, traveled south of Amerigo Vespucci, visited the holy country of Fantiago in Europe, studied Latin, and aspired to become a new-age priest who would lead the reformation of the Quaker Church.

He wanted to advance to a B-level psychic to gain the qualification to walk the path to the highest level. He helped others and practiced asceticism along the way until he offended the offspring of a high-ranking figure in a certain organization.

How is the person who framed and plotted against him now doing...?

Could he have already become a minor pope of the Quaker Church...?

Is it even meaningful for me to remain loyal to this kind of church...?

No, don't think about it, don't look back, the past isn't worth dwelling on...

Old Henry shook his head, vigorously flicking his white hair, as if trying to completely banish these distracting thoughts from his mind.

Carrying the tools for dissecting the corpse, he walked towards the young man. He bent down, rolled up his sleeves to reveal his thin but strong arms, and raised the gleaming bone saw in his hand.

Let's start by sawing off the neck.

Old Henry was very skilled at this procedure. He would deal with the head first, so he could see less of the deceased's face and have fewer wild thoughts.

The bone saw was aimed at that section of the neck.

Just as he was about to swing the sword, old Henry keenly heard a very discordant sound.

Heartbeat?

He was startled, his pupils contracted sharply, and he quickly looked into the young man's eyes.

At this moment, the pupils that emitted a faint green light were like will-o'-the-wisps in the night.

One hand suddenly pushed himself up from the ground, while the other hand gripped old Henry's wrist, which was holding the bone saw, like an iron clamp.

"A bone saw?"

Kong Jiu stared at the "medical instrument" in Henry's hand, an instrument he himself frequently used, and chuckled coldly: "You've dismembered quite a few corpses, haven't you, Saint Henry?"

With a sudden burst of strength, his arm muscles tensed, and he dragged Henry into the pool of blood.

Blood splattered.

The aging body stumbled in the pool of blood, and the old but white holy robe was instantly stained with dark red blood, mottled and glaring.

Now, it's time for ground warfare.

[Blood Magic - Blood Clotting]

As soon as Kong Jiu had a thought, the psionic circuit on his forearm suddenly flashed.

The bloodstains on Henry's robe churned like boiling liquid, splintering into countless tiny black and red thorns, like beggar-ticks, densely piercing the old saint's body.

These are several blood spells that Mina taught Kong Jiu through her words and actions over the past week.

Logically speaking, with the Stuart family crest in his body, Kong Jiu should also possess these magical abilities.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the talent, nor the inclination to learn.

But Mina didn't care whether Kong Jiu wanted to learn or not. Every night, when she bit Kong Jiu's neck, she used these little tricks as a way to add fun, and she used them all on Kong Jiu.

"Big boy, look, blood magic can make your little brother strong and red."

"Stop, Mina! That's not how you use Blood Magic! Niu Niu is about to explode!"

Tortured night after night, Kong Jiu had no choice but to learn these messy blood techniques.

A fingernail can pierce the skin and suck the blood of others to heal itself; blood can be collected in a certain area for treatment or temporary enhancement; the uses of blood are varied.

Mina can also transform blood into strange concoctions such as whips and spiked collars.

However, Kong Jiu, whose skills were not yet proficient, could only conjure these needles that resembled beggar-ticks.

"Blood magic? Are you a Dead Apostle or a Bloodline?"

Old Henry winced in pain, his facial muscles twitching as he let out a low, angry shout.

There was no time to ponder why the young man hadn't been killed. The golden light in his hand shifted again, and the bone saw instantly transformed back into a submachine gun. Henry struggled to stand up and launch another attack.

But as he struggled in the pool of blood, he felt as if thousands of tiny needles were piercing his flesh with every movement.

The excruciating pain caused his movements to become slow and stiff.

Taking advantage of Henry's momentary lapse in concentration due to pain, Kong Jiu pounced like a cheetah, using both hands and feet to lock old Henry's neck tightly.

A deadlock, or a bloody knot.

When he counted to five, his vision went black and his consciousness became blurred; when he counted to ten, the old man almost lost consciousness.

This is a fighting technique that Kong Jiu honed when he was fighting against Japanese aggression in the Eastern District, and it has proven effective time and again.

Now, combining it with blood magic, which can slow down opponents, is an even better way to finish off enemies.

As long as you pretend to be dead first, and get beaten up and covered in blood...

Then, when the opponent gets close, suddenly throw them into a pool of blood and activate the Blood Magic to greatly reduce their agility!

Finally, by using the Blood Strike technique, you can easily subdue your opponent!

In his frantic struggle, Henry's movements became increasingly weak until he finally went limp and lost consciousness.

Kong Jiu released his grip, panting, and looked at the unconscious old man with a triumphant expression on his face.

"Phew~ It seems that the damage immunity effect given by the Origin of Creation is closer to the friendly fire effect than actually making me invincible."

Kong Jiu activated his blood magic, slowly absorbing the blood from the ground and his body to recover, while sighing in amazement.

Henry lost consciousness; it was time to retrieve the 'concept' from the box.

Kong Jiu turned around and walked toward the stone box placed on the stone bench.

This thing is quite exquisite. The square stone box is engraved with countless intricate and beautiful patterns. It would be a great exhibit if placed in a museum.

Kong Jiu reached out and gently lifted the lid, only to find to his surprise that, apart from the weight on top of the box, there was no lock.

But then, his eyes narrowed and his face darkened.

Empty.

There's nothing there except for the internal pattern.

There weren't even any dried or withered black spots, not even a speck of dust to be found; the bottom of the box was completely empty.