Traveling through the second dimension, the joy system encourages me to laugh heartily!

Epona's eyes lit up: "Really?"

"real."

Chen Ming nodded. "So now, we need you to keep acting for a while. We need to lure the snakes out of their holes and make those guys hiding in the shadows jump out on their own."

"Uh-huh!"

Epona nodded vigorously, her expression as serious as if she were receiving the most important task. "Then I'll continue acting and lure the snake out!"

As she spoke, she took a few deep breaths, trying to adjust her expression and put on a cold look of "negotiations breaking down and ending on bad terms".

Then she dispelled the magical barrier.

The pale golden barrier dissipated like a burst bubble, and the sounds from the outside world rushed back in instantly.

Epona gave Chen Ming a "cold" look, then turned and strode toward the main courtroom.

Unfortunately, her acting skills are really nothing to write home about.

Her steps were too stiff, her shoulders too tense, and even the hand gripping the sword seemed unnatural. Not to mention the undisguised smile in her eyes the instant before she turned around.

Chen Ming watched her departing figure, shook his head and smiled helplessly.

He confirmed that Epona was completely incapable of acting.

It should be said that apart from her exceptional combat prowess, her abilities in other areas are mediocre—she is not good at political maneuvering, not good at interpersonal skills, and not even good at disguising her emotions. She is like an overly sharp sword, straightforward and without any sense of subtlety.

But it is precisely this contrast that makes him the most courageous.

Watching her leave, Chen Ming strode forward along the corridor.

At the end of the corridor, the courtroom doors were already open.

The show has begun, and the actors are in place.

Now, it's his turn to step onto the courtroom stage, this "devil."

As Chen Ming entered the courtroom, the heavy, five-meter-high oak door was slowly closed behind him by the temple guards. The hinges made a dull, grinding sound, like the low growl of some ancient beast, announcing the complete separation between the inner and outer worlds.

Sunlight streamed down from the towering dome, filtering through the stained glass and casting dappled and distorted shadows on the ground, as if the entire space were immersed in some kind of unreal liquid.

Chen Ming did not hesitate at all. He walked forward along the red carpet in the center. The six pairs of light wings behind him were slightly retracted, but the light made of pure energy was too bright. Even when he deliberately restrained it, it still illuminated the surrounding area of ​​dozens of meters as if it had its own halo.

The light stood out so starkly, so inhumanly, against the solemn and somber dark background.

The hall is flanked by towering columns, each requiring three people to encircle it, and carved with the deeds of saints from the Yalan religion over the past thousand years. Above are three tiers of encircling seats for the public, which are now full of people.

The first tier consisted of kings and royal representatives from various countries, dressed in magnificent robes and wearing crowns, their expressions serious yet subtly scrutinizing. The second tier comprised dukes, marquises, earls—the actual holders of secular power—who conversed in hushed tones, their eyes darting about. The third tier comprised wealthy merchants, scholars, and other important figures qualified to participate in this trial.

At the deepest part of the trial hall, on a high platform sat the core of the trial—the College of Cardinals, headed by the Pope, thirteen in total, symbolizing the goddess and the twelve apostles. They wore scarlet robes and golden crowns, their faces blurred yet majestic in the shadows.

Chen Ming's arrival abruptly silenced all the whispers.

The bishops from various districts and kings from various countries, who had been waiting for a long time, immediately looked at his face, trying to catch any trace of fear or dread.

But they were disappointed.

Chen Ming's face was expressionless, a calmness that transcended mere tranquility, as if he were not entering a courtroom to judge himself, but rather a circus full of monkeys.

He calmly walked to the center of the hall and stood there.

At that moment, the weight of all eyes, carrying the hostility of an entire world, pressed down on his shoulders, which were capable of bearing the weight of a planet.

This is not a metaphor—if Chen Ming wanted to, he could indeed play with planets like basketballs.

Seeing that he had walked right into the trap, the cult leader on the high platform slowly rose to his feet.

He was an elderly man who looked to be around eighty years old, with a kind face, his white hair neatly combed back, and his robe spotless. He raised his hands, his movements solemn and slow.

“First of all,” the cult leader’s voice echoed in the magnificent hall, amplified by magic and carrying a divine resonance, “please allow me to express my sincerest gratitude to the kings of various countries and distinguished guests present today.”

His gaze swept across the entire room, lingering on Chen Ming for a moment before quickly shifting away.

"We respond to the goddess's divine decree, uniting all forces that can be united to fight against the demons that threaten this world!"

His voice was forceful and persuasive. Some people in the audience nodded unconsciously, while others clenched their fists.

"The Goddess said that the Church of Yalan will not tolerate any evil or any lies!"

"So today is the day to reveal the truth," the cult leader's voice suddenly lowered, becoming sinister and dangerous, "and also the day to bury the truth..."

The moment those words were uttered, a subtle change occurred in the hall.

Several cardinals nearby simultaneously showed puzzled expressions.

They exchanged glances, their brows furrowed—this was not the script. According to the rehearsal, this was supposed to be "also a day of judging the devil," leading naturally to the accusations against Chen Ming.

They looked reproachfully at the think tank seat to the right of the cult leader, because all the speeches today were written and reviewed by that think tank.

However, the seat that should have been occupied by the strategist was now empty.

No, it's not completely empty.

A piece of white paper was pasted on the back of the chair, which read: "Mr. Lex, Chief Strategist of the Yalan Church!" The handwriting was crooked and there was a strange smiley face symbol at the end, which was out of place with the solemn atmosphere around him.

The bishops' expressions shifted from confusion to unease.

In the audience, the kings of various countries looked at the religious leader on the stage with surprise, thinking that he had dementia.

An awkward atmosphere suddenly descended upon the scene.

However, the cult leader was not embarrassed at all.

Instead, he suddenly revealed a strange smile.

That smile was completely different from his usual kind image—the curve of his mouth was too wide, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were too deep, and the entire facial muscles exuded an inhuman twist. His eyes reflected an unusual light under the magic lamp; it wasn't the color of human pupils, but a deep, almost blackish purple.

"Please allow me to express my gratitude once again to everyone for your contributions to the resurrection of the Demon King..."

After he finished speaking, he looked up at the ceiling.

Realizing something was wrong, everyone followed his gaze.

On the twenty-meter-high dome, there were magnificent murals depicting the goddess creating the world. But now, those sacred images were being covered by another pattern—a huge and complex crimson magic circle, like some kind of evil vine, rapidly spreading from the center of the dome.

Chapter 334: The Demon Clan's Acting Skills

The next moment, the crimson magic circle erupted with dazzling light.

boom--!

The crimson flames caught up with the sound and engulfed everything.

The shockwave, like a rapidly expanding flower of death, exploded from the center of the courtroom.

The shockwave overturned the stone pillars, tore apart the tables and chairs, and tossed human bodies into the air like rag dolls.

The sounds of shattering glass, breaking structures, and screams instantly drowned out converge into a cruel symphony.

Outside the cathedral, hundreds of thousands of believers in the square witnessed a sight they would never forget: first, all the windows of the cathedral simultaneously burst forth with blinding red light, then the entire building began to rapidly expand and explode, with rubble flying in all directions like fireworks.

The knights' warhorses reared up in fright, and the onlookers fell to the ground in terror; some began to weep, while others prayed frantically.

Inside the courtroom, at the center of the flames and light, Chen Ming remained standing in the same spot.

Crimson flames danced around him, yet could never get within three meters of his body, creating an eerie vacuum. Within this realm, the air was fresh and the temperature was pleasant, a stark contrast to the surrounding infernal landscape.

The demons' sneak attack couldn't harm him in the slightest, but the defamation of his reputation was being completed.

Chen Ming witnessed the church's high-ranking officials and kings from various countries disappear in flames and light, right before his eyes.

With his strength, he could have easily prevented all of this from happening.

The moment the crimson magic circle appears, he can unleash a protective spell covering the entire area.

In the instant the flames erupt, he can reverse the flow of energy.

Even before entering the trial hall, he had already sensed the presence of the crimson magic circle. After all, the strongest magic in this world was only around the upper level in World 2, while he possessed god-level detection magic.

But he did nothing; he simply stood there indifferently, his wings of light unfurling in the flames, his eyes eerily calm.

He didn't want to save him when faced with attempts by high-ranking church officials to try him!

Repaying resentment with virtue, why repay virtue?

Although the kings of various countries were forced by the church, their arrival meant they had chosen sides.

If you choose the wrong side, then you are the enemy, and Chen Ming will not go to save the enemy!

As for allies, Duke Lomarin and King Alban didn't come at all. They weren't afraid of the Church's retaliation, because after today, it was uncertain whether the Church would even exist...

Chen Ming raised his head and looked at the ruins of the high platform.

There, the leader—or rather, the demon—stood amidst the flames, arms outstretched, as if embracing the destruction.

After all, he set up the crimson magic circle, so it naturally wouldn't harm him.

Even if injured, the demon race's infinite resurrection ability allows them to recover instantly.

"How is it, my angel?"

The cult leader's words were full of mockery: "Now everyone sees it—before you, the entire Grand Cathedral has been destroyed, all the important figures are dead. And you are still standing unharmed in the middle of the ruins."

"What do you think people will think?"

Chen Ming did not answer.

He simply raised his right hand slowly, palm facing upward.

The surrounding flames seemed to be summoned, beginning to converge, rotate, and compress towards his palm, eventually condensing into a small, yet terrifyingly powerful, red sphere of light.

Then he looked at the demon, his eyes as calm as a deep pool:

"You're right. What will the world think?"

He paused, and the ball of light in his palm began to change color, from blood red to pure gold:

"But before that—"

The sphere of light burst forth with a radiance like that of the sun.

"—You should worry about how you're going to die first."

boom--!

A second explosion occurred in the ruins of the cathedral.

The internal structure of this thousand-year-old building had already suffered fatal damage from the previous impact of the crimson flames. Now, the last main beam supporting the dome finally broke, and tens of tons of stone, wood, and metal decorations collapsed inward as if being stirred by an invisible giant hand.

A huge gap was blasted open in the center of the ruins, and smoke and dust rose up like a mushroom cloud, blotting out the sky.

Amidst the chaos, a charred figure flew out of the ruins—or rather, was blasted away by some force.

The figure traced a clumsy arc in the air before crashing heavily onto the marble floor of the square, sliding for more than ten meters before coming to a stop. Its scarlet robes were tattered, revealing charred skin beneath.

Chen Ming slowly appeared amidst the smoke and dust.

His unhurried pace was completely out of place amidst the chaos around him. With each step he took, the pebbles beneath his feet would automatically level out, the flames would automatically extinguish as they approached, and even the drifting smoke would form a clear boundary around him.

Six pairs of wings of light fully unfurled behind him, each feather ten meters long, their pure energy gleaming like a beacon in the smoke and dust. The light illuminated the calm expression on his face, and also the countless gazes around him, a mixture of fear, doubt, and even hatred.

Hundreds of thousands of people remained silent.

They watched Chen Ming emerge from the ruins, watched the charred "Cult Leader" fall to the ground, and watched the Grand Cathedral's ruins continue to collapse...

The visual impact overwhelmed all rational thought.

To ordinary believers, the scene is simple yet brutal: a fallen angel enters the cathedral → a violent explosion occurs → the cathedral is reduced to ruins → the angel walks out unharmed → the cult leader is seriously injured and thrown out.

The chain of cause and effect is rapidly constructed and solidified in fear.

The cult leader struggled to his feet.

His movements were exaggerated yet slow, every gesture meticulously designed—left hand clutching his chest, right hand bracing himself on the ground, legs trembling, breathing rapidly. When he finally stood up, the "wound" beneath his tattered robe was still "bleeding," dark red liquid dripping onto the white marble, a shocking sight.

He raised a trembling finger, pointing at Chen Ming, his voice hoarse and filled with grief and indignation:

"Quickly... kill this demon! He... he destroyed the holy land! He murdered kings and high-ranking church officials! Goddess... please punish him..."

This performance was truly superb.

If the audience were calm observers, they might notice the flaw: the real cult leader is an elderly man over eighty years old. Although he is in good health, it is impossible for him to have survived an explosion of that scale!

The fact that this cult leader can still stand up and speak is the best proof that he is a demon, not a human.

But the public is not a calm observer.