Goddess’s Spine!?
Muxuan’s brows furrowed.
Her body stumbled as she watched the crosier falling down the cliff.
The weightlessness of the crosier slipping from her hand into the abyss, combined with the massive shock from the goblin’s words—”Goddess’s Spine, worthless”—left her mind blank in an instant.
This utterly absurd claim pierced her cognition like a cold needle.
She instinctively wanted to refute it, but her throat felt blocked, and only meaningless syllables escaped.
“…What do you mean?”
She finally squeezed out the words, her golden eyes fixed on the goblin’s ugly, mocking face.
The goblin simply shrugged, wearing that utterly comfortable, condescending smile as if discussing some trivial old item.
“Literal meaning, Little Saintess.”
His voice was hoarse and low, carrying a blasphemous contempt for the divine.
“That crosier, symbol of the Church’s supreme authority, is just a bone pulled from some poor wretch.”
He stepped forward, his withered finger pointing at Muxuan from a distance.
A cold, sticky pressure spread like a tangible force, instantly gripping Muxuan’s throat, making it hard to breathe.
The Consecration Patterns on her skin, which had been flickering in anger, suddenly dimmed under this profane and greedy pressure, like embers doused with ice water.
The light drastically faded, even began to warp uncontrollably, bringing sharp, stinging pain and a sense of blockage.
“Alright, enough pointless chatter.”
Zi Luo Mo’s voice lost its false playfulness, turning cold and dangerous.
“Hand over the Holy Relic. It doesn’t belong to you. My patience is limited.”
His gaze swept over Qiansitelin, who barely managed to stand, and the terrified Theodore nearby.
The look in his eyes was like that of someone about to crush a bug.
Qiansitelin’s heart sank.
Enduring the excruciating pain of her internal organs shifting, she held her sword horizontally in front of her, though the blade trembled uncontrollably.
Behind her, Theodore’s small face was pale.
“You… you really are Zi Luo Mo?!”
His voice trembled with extreme fear as he shouted.
“Oh? Confirmed now?”
Hearing Theodore’s words, the goblin finally revealed a pleased smile.
“I thought I’d been forgotten by history, just like those trash.”
Qiansitelin’s heart suddenly jolted.
The [Lyrasel] in her hand flared to life, swinging toward the goblin with astonishing speed.
“Your Highness… run!”
She screamed with all her strength, knowing the cry was futile against absolute power.
Zi Luo Mo…
That guy.
She had thought it unlikely, but now… he had admitted it himself.
Qiansitelin was certain that the “trash” Zi Luo Mo referred to were the Old Gods!
Only someone who had declined in power would dare call the gods trash.
Even if Zi Luo Mo had severely weakened, they were absolutely no match for him!
“Run?”
Zi Luo Mo laughed as if he had heard a funny joke.
His wrinkled face twisted into an ugly grin.
“I’ve changed my mind. None of you are leaving.”
His gaze swept over Qiansitelin and Theodore with undisguised greed.
He took a step forward.
At that moment, space seemed to compress and freeze.
Muxuan felt her body stiffen, her thoughts becoming sluggish.
Qiansitelin tried to swing her sword, but her movements were as slow as struggling through thick mud.
Theodore’s frightened whimper was cut short in his throat.
Despair flooded over Muxuan like icy water.
The chasm in strength was an insurmountable divide.
Any resistance seemed like a pointless joke.
Zi Luo Mo clenched his hand, as if about to grab Muxuan.
But then, an anomaly erupted!
A vast red aura, mixed with a golden sacred energy, filled the space in an instant.
Then, a figure shot out like a cannonball, crashing heavily into Zi Luo Mo.
Zi Luo Mo’s body jolted.
For the first time, his usually immovable form was knocked backward.
A fit of coughing came, and green foam spurted from Zi Luo Mo’s mouth.
“Great Artisan God!”
Feeling the pressure suddenly lift, Theodore’s face lit up with joy as he looked at the figure in the distance.
He quickly shouted.
Muxuan was also startled.
She managed to prop herself up and looked at the Great Artisan God, her eyes full of confusion.
Just now, her attention had been fixed on Zi Luo Mo, and she hadn’t sensed the location of the Holy Relic.
But now that the Great Artisan God was here, she understood.
The Great Artisan God had come…
But she remembered he was supposed to handle—
“Heh, I sensed something was off long ago.”
The Great Artisan God swung his thick arm, and the forging hammer in his hand let out a dull hum.
“Carlo still has a Contact Stone.”
Now Muxuan understood.
Zi Luo Mo hadn’t been confident enough to take down everyone, so he had only feigned an attack on the other passage.
In reality, the dwarves there had reacted quickly and thwarted his little scheme.
“Kalibo’s Accursed Offspring…”
Zi Luo Mo ignored his own injuries, smirking at the Great Artisan God.
“The Holy Relic is on you… Hah. But you’re not as strong as Kalibo. Relying solely on the Holy Relic, do you think you have a chance?”
He wiped the green fluid from his mouth, still confident.
“Won’t know until I try.”
The Great Artisan God said nothing more.
After replying, his heavy body charged again.
The ground beneath him cracked, forming a deep crater.
A dark red aura flowed over his golden armor, strangely blending with pure Lightforce.
He could clearly feel a gentle, powerful energy continuously pouring into him from the armor, strengthening his power.
“Hmph!”
The Great Artisan God grunted.
His movements became faster, his strikes more solid.
The forging hammer was no longer just a physical blow.
On the hammer’s head, blood-red aura intertwined with the Light of the Saintess.
The ease on Zi Luo Mo’s face vanished completely, replaced by a grim expression.
The power in this strike posed a great threat to him.
Even if the Great Artisan God was indeed inferior to Kalibo, he himself was far from his former prime.
He no longer held back.
His withered hand shot forward.
Hum—
Space instantly froze and collapsed.
A massive black claw mark, visible to the naked eye and warping light, appeared out of nowhere, meeting the Great Artisan God’s hammer.
A violent collision occurred again.
This time, the sound was deeper, accompanied by a soul-rending shriek.
The Great Artisan God grunted.
His massive body was pushed back several steps by the massive recoil, each step leaving a deep footprint on the metal floor.
The golden armor covering his body flickered violently, emitting a strained hum, clearly under enormous pressure.
Zi Luo Mo’s body swayed slightly.
On the arm that had formed the claw mark, several patches of skin showed an eerie black char, as if burned by intense light.