Transformed into the leader of an esoteric sect in Japan

The entire rear half of the car, along with Kurosawa Shizuki's head, was pierced by the immense kinetic energy, utterly and devastatingly altered, twisted, and torn apart. In the blink of an eye, the girl's delicate and beautiful face was crushed by the alchemical bullet, which combined modern technology with invisible magic! Flesh and metal intertwined, twisting into a chaotic and turbulent storm!

"Get down quickly." Before Nakamura Yukise could finish her sentence, Kurosawa Shizuki, who was sitting in the passenger seat, was already just a headless body. Nakamura Yukise felt a suffocatingly cold aura spread out in an instant, filling the entire car. Nakamura's whole body was covered in a chilling frost. She wanted to say something, but the saliva in her mouth froze in the extremely low temperature, and her tongue was tied in knots.

Having lost the control of their master's consciousness, the dark spiritual entities clinging to Kurosawa Shizuki's body froze and withered at a rapid pace, then fell off Kurosawa Shizuki's body.

The razor-sharp killing intent gripped Nakamura's heart, filling her with a deep-seated fear. She was plunged into utter chaos and collapse, utterly at a loss.

The wreckage of the out-of-control car deployed a protective mat, preventing Nakamura Yukise from being thrown out of the vehicle. The engine was no longer running, but it continued to slide forward due to inertia.

What happened? Encased in an air cushion, Nakamura Yukise's mind went blank. A near-mad smile appeared on her face. Why am I covered in blood and bits of flesh? Where did that sudden sniper bullet come from? Why is it so cold, so cold it feels like my blood is freezing…

Where is the saintess who was just sitting next to me, her smile flawless, listening to my woes without reservation? Where is the most adorable, powerful, and sacred Saintess Kurosawa in the world? She is a fourth-order Sun Apostle!

She was shot dead by a sniper rifle? Just like that?

Just as Nakamura Yukise was on the verge of collapse, the tanker truck, blaring shrill rock music, finally arrived and began to run over the completely powerless car.

Nakamura Yukise saw a handsome young man in a silver-white suit sitting on the roof of the tanker truck. His cheeks were covered with obsidian-like scales. He made a face at Nakamura Yukise, and with a snap of his fingers, the air vibrated and thunder roared.

Indeed, a blinding bolt of lightning struck down from the sky, hitting the tanker truck loaded with high-temperature fuel and amethyst larvae.

"Transformation!" The driver of the tanker truck raised his hands frantically and made this final declaration. His entire body was covered with pale moths, and his body had long been riddled with holes from being eaten away.

"Boom—" The tanker truck was ignited, first with a tiny spark, then it exploded instantly!

The tanker truck, along with the driver who was laughing wildly with his hands raised at the front of the truck, exploded. Sparks shot dozens of meters into the air in an instant, dancing a vibrant dance with the crimson blood mist. A cruel yet beautiful orange flame storm swept across the entire street.

Like a phoenix dancing gracefully in a rain of red, with thousands of moths swirling wildly in the flames.

The phoenix spread its burning wings and instantly swallowed the headless bodies of the desperate Nakamura Yukise and Kurosawa Shizuki in a purgatory of fire with temperatures of thousands of degrees.

They were all carbonized, dissolved, and reduced to ashes in an instant.

P.S., how's the abrupt ending? Haha.

PS2, the protagonist dies, the book ends, the finale! Just kidding, of course.

Section 66, Chapter Sixty-Six: The Falconer

The Falconer is from Philadelphia. His life is so decadent and dissolute that it's nauseating. He has lived for a very long time, but he knows how to use borrowed time to maintain his glamorous appearance. Therefore, his soul is old, but his body remains young.

He was born on a sacred mountain in the Americas, survived a brutal massacre, abandoned his ancient tribal customs and barbarian name, and took up a hatchet to plunge into the bustling industrial metropolis. In order to earn merit, he joined the army and threw himself into the great war that tore the world apart.

During the war, he met an old warlord whose ancestors came from the Aegean Sea. The warlord's eyes were sharp as knives, and his smile was like that of a bronze statue. It was as if the heroes of the ancient Greek epic era still lived in the warlord's body.

Under the warlord's leadership, the war seemed to be going smoothly, and they earned the greatest merit. All this continued until they met an anthropologist in Poland who claimed to be a former barber. The man smiled, took off his top hat, and casually peeled off the old warlord's scalp with a toy-like knife.

Eighty years ago, he first encountered the art of the invisible during that devastating world war, a war so fierce that even the setting sun wept. Amidst the ruins of Poland, he received the spearhead of a bronze spear, said to date back to the ancient Mycenaean kingdom, from the hands of a dying old warlord.

The spear trembled and roared in his hand, yearning to be drenched in blood. The sharp blade power resided within him, making him invincible on the battlefield. Artillery fire avoided his body, and bullets could not penetrate his skin. The dance of flames and spear blades only made him more excited and frenzied.

He inherited the old warlord's cause, determined to devote himself to the conflict and hone his skills to an even sharper edge.

The glorious war gave him a body full of scars, each scar a gateway, making him even more indestructible.

But blades eventually rust, and even the greatest warriors are felled by time, their life force draining away through their wounds. He yearned to understand the principles of the blade, but he could not fathom the true, ultimate mystery hidden at the other end.

He only understood how to end life, but he could not control it; he could only understand the blade, but he could not witness its reforging. He could not ignite the flames of conflict; he failed utterly in the lion's trial, and he was no longer favored by the gods. From that day on, he could only fall, never rise again.

Thus his body weakened, his fighting spirit plummeted, his hands lost strength, and he could no longer even lift the bronze spear. He called upon the lion in his blood, but the lion had fallen into a deep sleep. The lion maker had abandoned him, and the fourth gate of blood and error was forever closed to him.

In his deepest despair, when he saw no way out, he encountered another old acquaintance from the battlefield. They had witnessed the collapse of yet another great empire in Istanbul, though back then they were mortal enemies.

He was astonished to find that his old friend's appearance remained unchanged, but he claimed that he had not achieved immortality. "You know, time is something that can be sold and borrowed as a commodity," the Ottoman lieutenant with the scar on his left eye said in a hoarse voice, which carried an irresistible charm.

He followed the lieutenant to a sunny holiday villa in Old Calicut, Italy, to visit the owner of the Ashes Ledger. By the grace of the dawn, this ruler had mastered the great skill of stealing, recording, and sharing time, making the most profitable business in the world: selling time.

"You can become a member of our family, share the time in the ashes, and live forever, and the price you pay is very light," the Overlord smiled as he unfolded the contract to him, the tip of his quill pen making blood-like marks on the parchment scroll, "Just sign your name here."

So he abandoned his former name and became "The Falconer." He joined the "Clearers" and became a member of a "family" that shared the Sands of Time, studying the art of time from the burning ashes.

He borrowed time from the ledger again, and so his wrinkles disappeared, his new skin became radiant, his strong hands clenched into fists again, and he was once again young and vigorous, no longer aging. He regained his skill with the blade, and he no longer declined, like a reborn sun.

He began following the lieutenant around the world, carrying out mission after mission to gain more time.

Sometimes he would lend out the ledger of time, or incite riots and rebellions, or drive disputes and wars, to gain enormous political, material or spiritual benefits for his family; other times he would harvest surplus time from other esoteric practitioners, selling his own unparalleled blade power.

Now he followed the lieutenant to Pyeongkyō, and as usual, carried out a trivial and simple task.

"The reward is twenty-three years of time," said the molting creature whose eyes shone like black stars. He watched as she drew beautiful, ribbon-like threads of time from her body and poured them into the ledger. The ledger burned, and the transaction was complete.

"The target is a mysterious saintess of the Black Sun Cult. Through our intelligence sources, we have confirmed her travel route, and the information is absolutely accurate..."

He realized that this was almost all the time the molting creature had left. Although she was still beautiful, without these precious moments, she was destined to wither away in less than a week.

The molting creature no longer cared about the precious time. The Falconer keenly sensed that she firmly believed she no longer needed to use these twenty-three years; in just a few days, her mission would be accomplished.

"According to the information gathered three days ago, she is a fanatic of the peak of the third tier, the 'Lion' tier, who possesses strong dark matter power, and her door can be pried open with a blade."

The fact that the Flesh Shearers were willing to pay such a heavy price to hunt down a third-tier being indicates that the "Saintess" is crucial to their upcoming plans.

"Work with our high priest to suppress her with the power of the blade, and let us destroy the entire central hub of the Heijing Black Sun Cult. In this way, the Heijing Black Sun Cult will be shattered, and they will no longer attack us, but will instead seek revenge against the Open Gate Society."

"Shifting the blame eastward, a good plan." He sneered. The Opening Gate Society was indeed the secret society he belonged to when he worshipped lions, the Scarred Society that used blades to open the gates of death. Even after joining the Purifiers, most of the blade power he currently used still came from the Opening Gate Society.

The liquidator doesn't care where you come from, because everyone needs time, so the liquidator is willing to accommodate everyone.

If the Black Sun Cult's Holy Maiden were to die at the hands of the Open Gate Society, even with some doubt, the Black Sun Cult would inevitably descend into complete chaos, unable to act in unison, and there would certainly be impulsive Black Sun Cult members attempting to take revenge on the Open Gate Society.

However, given the Open Door Society's nature, they would certainly not offer any explanation; they would simply welcome the war with ecstatic joy, even if the war would end in their mutual annihilation with their enemies.

"It's just stalling for time... As long as we have time, as long as we have time, as long as we have three more days, we will win." The Flesh-Shedding One muttered to himself, but he noticed a hidden meaning in a subtle look in the Flesh-Shedding One's eyes.

This flesh-shedder didn't believe his blade could kill the Black Sun Cult's saintess; he only hoped to buy time. He grinned contemptuously; having roamed the world for so many years, as a member of his family, his blade had never left a survivor.

After completing this mission, he planned to leave Pingjing immediately. From the words of the Flesh-Shedding One, he had already guessed what kind of great being was about to descend, but he didn't care. For him, it was just another mission.

There are far more than one god walking among humans. One more or less of Duowuquanzi would not make a difference. Deciding the course of history is far beyond the power of a newly descended god.

Even His sovereign has personally deprived the dying gods of their time more than once. The difference between a person and a god is not so clear-cut. The sovereign once had the opportunity to ascend, but He disdained to serve.

He believed he would win, hunting down a Black Sun Cult saintess who, like him, was at the peak of the third tier. Admittedly, given the saintess's age, this was a remarkable achievement, but her youth also represented her ignorance.

She had never seen what real war was like. He would reveal his blade to her in the darkness, and everything would happen quickly. The power of the dark matter could not protect her. The blade was the technique of ending, and he only needed a moment.

So he stood guard at a high place, watching the road like a hawk, the path the saintess was bound to take. He held the "Destiny" spear high, and in this new era, with the help of the organization, he reforged the ancient broken spear, infusing it with the influence of ice. The art of the invisible merged with modern technology, creating the Destiny Spear.

The barrel is extremely long, yet the gun body is unexpectedly light. Supported by a bipod, the gun body flows with the cold light of a sharp blade. Each bullet contains the blood of mercury. When it roars, nothing can stop its howl. The frost of death will suffocate all life.

What happened next was simple: he waited quietly in the darkness, slowly adjusting his aim through the scope, humming an old song from forty years ago. It was about a tragic war, a mother silently praying for her son who was about to join the army, the son carrying a rifle on his back but holding a guitar in his arms, silently gazing at the dim moonlight above.

The Divine Society sounded thunderous drums, their heartbeats awakening the breath of lightning ahead of time. They offered their prepared sacrifices, including the feet of dancers, the wombs of virgins, the embers of traces, and a stripped-away five years. The music played, the thunder roared, the ledgers burned, and they pulled a part of the Netherworld into the human world.

Through the ouroboros ritual originating from Saint Hydra, they pulled the saint and her followers into a "false history" where their deaths would be silent and unnoticed by anyone.

Even Hermes of the Anti-Suppression Bureau couldn't trace the false history and find any clues. Forging false histories has always been a specialty of the Hidden Ones, and many years ago, the Generation of Gods was closely associated with them.

The scope was aimed at the target, a beautiful and frail girl, sickly to the point of being heartbreaking. She looked at this incomprehensible, vast world with her hazy, dark blue eyes. Her beauty reminded the Falconer of his third lover thirty years ago.

Also in Pyeongkyo, in that bubble-like era, there was a girl as tender and beautiful as a flower bud, whose taste was like sweet goat's milk. He savored her beauty with the blade until his blood dried up and his pupils froze.

She was full of spirituality and seemed to have sensed something, but her fate was already sealed. Over the long years, he had reaped countless lives, and once the final arbiter had been shot, there would be no more mercy or compassion.

"Father of the Eagle, grant me a blade that cuts through scars, with one end leading to the door and the other to death."

He smiled as he channeled the power of the blade that had slashed open his scar. The spear of destiny trembled, burning hot. His blood flowed from the scar on his wrist, surging across the narrow blood groove before finally freezing into a slender, silvery-white bullet. He loaded the bullet with fluid grace, disengaged the safety, aimed at the target, and pulled the trigger—without hesitation or hatred.

This is just an ordinary job.

The bullet of destiny, like a destined spear, tears everything apart. Time seems to stand still at that moment. He proudly straightens his back, watching his "blade" draw a straight and sharp line, reaching the end of the path.

The blades of conflict unleashed unparalleled cruelty, tearing the delicate girl to shreds in the blink of an eye, and a savage flower of black blood bloomed wildly.

"It's so beautiful," the Falconer exclaimed.

However, the next moment, his breathing almost stopped—

Because the flower of black blood suddenly transformed into a raging black sun, a pair of eerie blue eyes reopened in the black sun, and her snow-white body was rebuilt at an incredible speed. She was already looking at him.

P.S., the Falconer character design is actually based on Malaca from Assassin's Creed combined with Connor Haha.

Chapter 67 Rebirth (Section 67)

Kurosawa Shizuki's last memories are only of burning flames, a torn world, a shattered vision, and boundless darkness.

She's dead? She just died so casually? Her death was so inexplicable? It's like a joke!

I'm not reconciled, I'm so unwilling to accept this! Everything had only just begun, I had already resolved to face the calamity head-on, I had just made that promise to love…

However, her enemy did not even emerge from the darkness, and the first blow he struck at her was a fatal one.

Speaking of which... where am I now? After wallowing in self-pity for a long time, Kurosawa Shizuki finally realized that if she really died, she shouldn't even have any consciousness.

System! System! I instinctively cried out in my heart.

However, the system did not respond. Was she somewhere that even the system could not influence? Kurosawa Shizuki looked around in fear, seeing only completely unfamiliar scenery.

Kurosawa Shizuki sank into the dark ocean, which was extremely hot, with scorching, restless, and boiling steam rising from it. She bathed in it, naked like an infant, and continued to sink.

No, she wasn't sinking; she was rising. Her body had long since lost its weight; she was lighter than air. She merged into the incredibly scorching sea of ​​steam. This black ocean didn't cover the land; instead, it filled the entire sky.

Kurosawa Shizuki was bound by countless black chains. The earth was rejecting her, while a greater force in the depths of the sky was pulling her. She was heavily bound and could not fall. She could only ascend to a higher place.

As she rose higher and higher, she saw flocks of birds beneath her, clouds beneath her, the vast ocean beneath her, and the entire Earth beneath her. She flew all the way to the primordial chaos, where layer upon layer of dark oceans were churning and reveling, all rejoicing at her arrival.

"Change us, change us, or—be changed by us forever!" From within the darkness, a figure engulfed in black flames reached out to her, as if to embrace her. Kurosawa Shizuki felt a chill run down her spine, but she had nowhere to escape.

"How long has it been since a new visitor came to this height? Don't leave, don't fall, stay with us forever!" Countless black, charred arms reached out from the blackness and grabbed at Kurosawa Shizuki, and hundreds of faces contorted with pain emerged from the black sea.

"It has been so long, far too long! When will the Gate of Fury be opened? When will dawn arrive?" Countless black life forms, in all sorts of bizarre shapes, cried out in unison.

Kurosawa Shizuki was lifted to an even higher place by these strange life forms in the black matter, so high that nothing could be seen. Kurosawa Shizuki looked up and saw a black sun that was only half left, incomplete.

It was not merely a black sun; deep within it lay bleeding wounds, its light chilling. Though situated at the very pinnacle, it possessed no warmth. It was like an eye shedding tears of blood, illuminating all things yet utterly indifferent to everything, distant and utterly unfamiliar.

However, even the aftershocks of His light, with just a slight touch, made Kurosawa Shizuki feel as if her whole body was burning. This was an unparalleled heat that Kurosawa Shizuki had never experienced before. After the temperature climbed to its extreme, what Kurosawa Shizuki felt was the chill of being on the verge of death.

The intense darkness turned blood red.

Kurosawa Shizuki finally realized where she was now, in the other world called "Netherworld" that had been mentioned in the original owner's diary. It was said that all the hidden gods hid in it and observed the human world. After most mortals died, their souls would enter the Netherworld, merge into the Black Sea, and become food for the gods.