The Reckoning

“So you’re defective.”

“Just a lucky fool who picked up a fragment of a god. How dare you stand before the great Lord Astaroth?”

“Today, right before your eyes, I’ll accomplish a feat never before seen in history. I’ll offer this fragment of yours, along with your soul, to my god.”

His laughter was manic, echoing through the silent theater.

The sliver of hope that An Changqing, Long Ao, and the others had felt after noticing Astaroth’s abnormality was instantly extinguished by Liu Xiao’s words.

Defective.

Those few words struck like a heavy hammer, shattering the last traces of wishful thinking in their hearts.

They had known for a long time that Chen Guan possessed power from a demon. They had simply tacitly agreed never to ask about it.

After all, Chen Guan had absorbed that power from the bottom of the tower that day to save them.

They just hadn’t expected that, before a true Demon God, it would be so utterly inadequate that it was dismissed as nothing more than a defective product.

“Hey, kid.”

Baal’s languid voice still echoed in Chen Guan’s mind.

“You heard him, didn’t you? He’s mocking me.”

“Really annoying. Do you need my help or not?”

Chen Guan asked inwardly, “Didn’t you say you needed to gather all the fragments before you could recover?”

He hadn’t forgotten Baal’s whole spiel about collecting fragments and transforming into a five-star Baal.

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

Baal’s tone carried a coaxing lilt. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. If you’re willing to hand over complete control of your body to me right now, I’ll take care of this somewhat ostentatious nuisance for you. How does that sound?”

The corner of Chen Guan’s mouth twitched. “Sounds good.”

Baal’s laughter grew more delighted, brimming with anticipation.

“Oh?”

“That agreeable? Lord Bael thought you’d put up a bit of a fuss. Then hurry up and hand over control—”

“But I refuse.”

Baal’s laughter caught in his throat. For a moment, he almost thought his advanced age had given him hearing loss and that he’d misheard.

“What did you say?”

“I said, I refuse.”

There wasn’t the slightest hesitation in Chen Guan’s voice. He spoke as if stating a decision he had made long ago.

Baal’s voice changed pitch, filled with disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?”

“That’s Astaroth’s divine projection! Even a mere phantom isn’t something a mortal like you can withstand. You’re gambling with your life!”

Even now, Baal still believed Chen Guan had enjoyed things going too smoothly for too long, leaving him unaware of what Astaroth truly represented.

Chen Guan didn’t answer. His gaze settled on the six-winged phantom that was taking shape, his thoughts clear and calculated.

Inviting a god was easy; sending one away was another matter.

The saying held true everywhere—especially when the being one intended to invite was not some merciful deity or Buddha, but Baal, known as the Demon God Sovereign.

He didn’t dare imagine what this being, who lived for amusement, might do once given complete control of his body.

Defeat Astaroth?

Perhaps.

Take the opportunity to turn the entire Demon Capital upside down?

Highly likely.

Refuse to leave afterward?

Almost a certainty.

Chen Guan trusted Baal’s character, so Baal could only be regarded as an option of absolute last resort.

Even without any malicious intent, when a Demon God moved his foot, the entire Demon Capital would tremble beneath it—just as no one noticed the ants crushed beneath their feet.

Besides…

“Baal.”

Chen Guan spoke inwardly. “There was a very interesting choice of words in what you just said.”

Baal snorted.

“What?”

“Complete control.”

Chen Guan repeated the phrase. “You said complete.”

Baal’s voice sounded again, now carrying a hint of teasing.

“Ah, you caught me.”

“Lord Bael was just speaking off the cuff. Why are you guarding against me like I’m a thief?”

Chen Guan didn’t respond.

He knew Baal wouldn’t truly get angry. At the end of the day, Baal was the sort of being who loved watching chaos unfold. Being refused would mean, at most, losing out on a bit of fun.

He might be disappointed, but he certainly wouldn’t lose his temper.

Sure enough, Baal sighed, switching into the attitude of a spectator watching a show.

“Fine, fine. Lord Bael will sit back and enjoy the view from the cheap seats. Let’s see how you plan to clean up this mess.”

“But Lord Bael’s offer still stands. You’re free to change your mind.”

Chen Guan ignored him. He raised his head, drew his gaze away from the divine phantom that pressed down upon heaven and earth, and turned toward the companions struggling under its oppressive might.

An Changqing was down on one knee, the hand gripping his sword still trembling, yet he had never loosened his hold.

Long Ao’s legs were buried deep in the ground. His teeth were clenched so hard they clicked, and the veins on his forehead bulged.

Hong Yuan braced herself against the ground with her great axe. The muscles in both her arms were taut to their limit, and every breath came heavy and labored.

Liu Chengjun and Liu Feiyu were in even worse condition. Both were nearly sprawled across the floor, their faces as pale as paper.

Only Chen Guan, with Baal residing within him, was affected far less by the pressure than the others.

“An Changqing.”

He spoke. An Changqing raised his head at the sound. Sweat blurred his vision, but he still forced himself to look toward Chen Guan.

Seeing his condition, An Changqing knew there was still hope.

“Chen Guan… do you have a way out?”

“No.”

Chen Guan’s answer was blunt and direct. An Changqing froze for a moment.

Chen Guan continued, “But that thing hasn’t fully taken shape yet.”

An Changqing’s gaze returned to the six-winged phantom.

Chen Guan was right. Although the outline of the divine phantom was terrifying, its edges were still flickering continuously, like an unfocused photograph.

“What are you getting at?”

Long Ao forced the words out through clenched teeth.

Chen Guan lowered his head and looked at his palm. The black mark there was faintly throbbing beneath the Demon God’s pressure, as if something were trying to break out of its shell.

“I’m saying that instead of waiting until it takes shape and then being slaughtered, we might as well take a shot while we still can.”

Hong Yuan’s laughter came from beside him, broken and intermittent, torn apart by the overwhelming pressure.

“Ha… I like that plan.”

“Chen Guan, this isn’t something we can handle. Run and get reinforcements.”

That was Liu Feiyu’s voice.

“I never said we could win.”

Chen Guan added calmly, “As for getting reinforcements, anyone with functioning eyes can see the commotion here. They’ll come on their own.”

A muffled grunt escaped Long Ao’s throat, almost like a laugh.

“Even if we can’t win, we still have to fight.”

His voice was hoarse and gravelly. He slammed both fists into the ground and forcibly pushed himself up from his kneeling position.

His legs trembled, but his back remained ramrod straight.

“This sort of thing is what I’m best at.”

An Changqing’s chest heaved violently. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then stood with his sword clenched tight.

His gaze swept over everyone present before finally stopping on Chen Guan.

“What do we do?”

“The divine phantom is still taking shape. Its core is that heart, while Liu Xiao is controlling the altar.”

He turned his head toward the figure still kneeling in fervent worship.

“Put an end to him, and the ritual should be interrupted as well.”

Chen Guan removed the coffin from his back. Then, from his storage ring, he took out the black scythe.

It was time to bring this to an end.