Stronger with More Jobs

Chapter 832: Chapter 326: Let Us Pray Loyally and Welcome Our God’s Arrival

"The fact that they were able to obtain a Celestial Punishment Association deacon’s mask and identity information in itself reveals many issues."

"Whether it’s the work of the Desolate Bone Corps or another force, at least it proves one point: the Celestial Punishment Association isn’t impenetrable; there are internal loopholes to exploit. What they want us to see might be exactly what we need. Let’s go and change clothes."

There are also two sets of neatly folded black robes in the box.

The style is identical to the hurried black-robed figures they had seen on the outskirts of the Celestial Punishment Association.

The two moved swiftly.

Fang Qingyu put on the "Mo Chuan" mask, which adhered perfectly to his face like a second skin, instantly altering his facial contours and aura, turning him into an ordinary-looking, slightly gloomy middle-aged man.

Jiang Wei also put on the "Liu Yun" mask, transforming into a young woman with slightly harsh and weary features.

They donned the spacious black robes and attached hoods.

Hiding most of their faces in shadow.

The two instantly became two exceedingly ordinary low-level deacons of the Celestial Punishment Association.

Fang Qingyu sat in the driver’s seat, and Jiang Wei took the passenger seat.

The seemingly dilapidated SUV’s engine unexpectedly started, emitting a muffled roar.

Fang Qingyu shifted gears, turning the steering wheel.

The SUV rolled over the uneven ground, exited the abandoned parking lot, and headed towards the city center, where the Celestial Punishment Association was located.

The vehicle eventually stopped by the roadside a block away from the Celestial Punishment Association area.

The two got out of the car, their large hoods drooping, concealing their faces completely.

They blended into the sparse crowd, moving towards the cluster of buildings surrounded by tall brambles and spiked stone walls.

It was starkly different from their last visit as tourists.

Last time, when their unfamiliar faces stepped into the commercial street on the outskirts of the Celestial Punishment Association.

They immediately garnered overly enthusiastic greetings from shop owners and clerks.

That enthusiasm seemed extremely incongruous and eerie within the City of Injustice.

But this time, wearing deacon black robes and masks.

They merged into the background.

The shop staff remained busy, but their gazes passed over Fang Qingyu and Jiang Wei without any pause or greeting, hollow and indifferent.

That apathy was more chilling than the previous enthusiasm.

Their passage through the outer business district was unobstructed.

Heading straight for the heavy, thorn-embellished arch gate leading to the core area of the Celestial Punishment Association.

Flanking the arch gate stood four guards, similarly clad in black robes and hooded faces.

The edges of their robes embroidered with silver thorn patterns.

When Fang Qingyu and Jiang Wei were about five steps from the gate, the outermost guard silently raised his right hand.

The movement stiff yet precise, like a puppet programmed to act.

Guided by the instructions on the note, Fang Qingyu and Jiang Wei didn’t pause, continued forward, then simultaneously lifted their heads slightly, briefly exposing the mask-covered faces hidden in their hood’s shadow to the guard’s view.

The guard’s gaze lingered on Fang Qingyu’s "Mo Chuan" mask and Jiang Wei’s "Liu Yun" mask for less than half a second.

Then, as if the raised hand had lost its support, it fell naturally.

He sidestepped to allow a passage.

And gestured subtly towards the heavy metal arch gate.

"Creak—"

The sound of heavy metal friction echoed.

A small side door beside the gate, just wide enough for two to pass side by side, slid open silently inward.

No interrogation, no inspection, not even a glance exchanged.

Simply because the "faces" matched.

Without the slightest hesitation, Fang Qingyu and Jiang Wei maintained their bowed posture, stride unchanged, calmly stepping through the open side door, one after the other.

The metal door behind them closed seamlessly.

Severing the last bit of light and clamor from outside.

Inside was a wide and deep stone passage, walls constructed from massive, roughly cut black stones interspersed with dark green moss.

Dim oil lamps embedded at intervals on the walls, flames flickering, casting shadows long and short on the cold stone, like twisted phantoms.

The air was cold and damp, carrying a heavy scent of dust, aged incense, and a faint sweet yet decayed smell.

The passage wasn’t empty.

Figures dressed in black robes and hooded faces were walking quickly, in twos and threes.

Their steps falling on the stone slabs, creating light and dense echoes, sounding distinctly clear in the enclosed space.

No one spoke, no one glanced around, everyone kept their heads down.

Silently heading in the same direction.

As if puppets drawn by invisible strings.

Fang Qingyu and Jiang Wei quickly merged into the silent crowd.

Fang Qingyu’s gaze swept swiftly over the grey-robed figures’ heads as he walked.

The titles seemed normal.

Just Martial Arts Grandmaster or God’s chosen.

Nothing special.

Fang Qingyu did not change direction and continued forward with the crowd.

The passage was not straight but had a slight downward curve.

After about three minutes, a giant crossroads-like hub appeared ahead.

Several equally broad and deep passages extended in different directions, while a wide spiral stone staircase ascended to higher floors.

But the main direction of the flow was towards the hub’s center.

A stone staircase extending downward.

Leading to the underground.

Fang Qingyu and Jiang Wei exchanged a glance, kept walking, and followed the silent crowd onto the stairs leading to the underground.

The stone staircase spiraled downwards.

The air became colder and more damp, and the sweet, rotten smell grew stronger.

The number of oil lamps on the walls decreased, and the light became dimmer.

After descending about three floors in height, the area ahead suddenly widened.

A massive underground space appeared before their eyes.

This space seemed to hollow out half a mountain, with a height of dozens of meters, the dome disappearing in deep darkness, its shape indiscernible.

At the center of the space, a massive cross carved from pale stone towered.

The cross rose over twenty meters, its body a ghastly white, emitting a sinister glow in the surrounding dim light.

The cross’s beams and pillars bore countless distorted and agonized human reliefs, as if they were struggling and wailing, eternally bound to the cold stone.

And at this moment, at the center of the cross.

Where the beams and pillars crossed, a man was tightly bound with several shimmering black metal chains!

The man’s figure was frail, head drooped, disheveled long hair obscured his face.

He wore a tattered, filthy black robe.

And his title.

Was something Fang Qingyu had never seen before.

Three black squares, as if smeared with ink!

[■■■]

As though some invisible force had rudely obliterated all traces of this existence.

This was unseen by Fang Qingyu.

In front of the massive cross was a vast stone slab surface.

At this moment, hundreds of Celestial Punishment Association members kneeled densely on this surface.

They were like devout followers, wearing unified black robes, hoods covering their heads, bodies deeply bent forward, their foreheads nearly touching the cold ground.

The entire space resonated with a collective murmur.

Fang Qingyu and Jiang Wei silently entered this enormous underground space with the last group, quietly blending into the side of the kneeling crowd.

They imitated others, slightly bent over, lowered their heads, hid their figures within black robes, and observed the scene ahead through the gaps of their hoods.

Just as they blended in, less than a minute passed.

A figure slowly emerged from the shadows beside the cross’s base.

This person wore a long black robe as well, but the fabric seemed finer, adorned with elaborate golden thorns and eye-like patterns along the edges.

He wore a mask that covered his entire face.

A mask of pure white stone, expressing both compassion and authority.

Only two eyes, deep as ancient wells, were exposed.

He walked to the base of the massive cross, facing the hundreds of kneeling grey-robed figures, and slowly stretched out his arms, movements full of ceremonial rhythm and a peculiar grace.

Suddenly, the murmuring in the underground space rose sharply, becoming more organized, more fervent, like surging tides!

From beneath the stone mask, an incredibly devout and fervent voice arose.

Clearly resounding in everyone’s ears:

"Let us pray in loyalty—"

"And welcome—"

"Our God—"

"To descend soon!!!"