Only God
Chapter 434 - 384 Resurrection Day (Extra 2 in 1)

Chapter 434: 384 Resurrection Day (Extra 2 in 1)

The Envoy was delivering her sermon to the crowds.

She recounted at length, and those once obscure Scriptures fell from her lips so succinct and clear, sparking an epiphany in her listeners.

The Priest had intended to rebuke her blasphemous words, yet no matter what he said, the Envoy’s words were far more convincing, as if she had truly beheld God and brought down new revelations from Heaven.

The Priest was defeated, and although he wouldn’t admit his failure, he could see with his own eyes the Believers being seduced by those bewitching words.

This couldn’t go on any longer.

The Priest understood that even if they continued Debating Scripture, there would still be Believers who, in time, would begin to doubt.

So he gritted his teeth and commanded,

"Enough! You false Prophet!"

Startled by his shout, the Believers all looked up in unison, redirecting their gaze towards the Priest.

The Envoy was not flustered; she calmly turned around, her eyes resting indifferently on the Priest.

Suddenly, with a clap of his hands, shadows of the underground tomb revealed several figures clad in Light Cloth Armor, swords hanging at their waists, now slowly drawn at the Priest’s command.

Those were the Night Watchman of the Empire.

Or rather, the Night Watchman infiltrated by the Primordial Church.

"Halt your bewitchment."

The Night Watchman advanced threateningly.

The Believers glanced at each other in panic, then, alarmed, they scurried back, distancing themselves from where the Envoy stood, as if fearful of being implicated.

Their hearts wavered, their gaze shifting back and forth from the Priest to the Envoy, limbs trembling as they whispered Scripture under their breath, begging for God’s forgiveness of their various misdeeds.

The Night Watchman closed in relentlessly—these were not mere Believers but Monks of the Primordial Church; although they had overheard the so-called Envoy’s preaching, they remained mostly unswayed.

A whirlpool of hostile glares converged, attempting to devour the Envoy then and there, to destroy this foe of the Primordial Church beyond redemption, to have her suffer the divine wrath from above.

Yet, amidst the torrent of enmity,

The Envoy took measured steps forward.

Thunder sounded from outside the tomb.

She walked towards the stairs, and without orders, none of the Night Watchman dared to move first.

The Priest watched her, asking through gritted teeth,

"What are you planning to do?"

Slowly turning her head, the Envoy calmly replied,

"A storm... The storm is coming."

Confusion filled the eyes of everyone present.

This Coastal Town had indeed experienced ceaseless rain at night in recent days, but could a storm be coming just because some unknown person said so?

Moments later, the Priest glared at Mira, shouting,

"Nonsense! She’s nothing but a madwoman masquerading as an Envoy!"

Then, with a wave of his hand, the Night Watchman charged, intent on capturing this so-called Envoy on the spot, to put an end to the cause of the Primordial Church’s widespread panic.

Just then.

Boom!

A thunderous crash, piercing as if it could rupture eardrums, caused the entire underground tomb to tremble, shaking and dislodging heaps of dust from above.

This tremor caused many to lose their footing, and several stumbled and fell. When they looked up again, the so-called Envoy had vanished.

"Where did she go? Chase her! Quickly!"

The Priest called out in haste.

The Night Watchman swarmed out in pursuit.

The underground tomb continued to shake ever so slightly, and with more dust falling, fear rose naturally.

The Priest hastened to reassure the Believers; after all, it was common for the tomb underground to experience occasional quakes.

Suddenly, a drenched Night Watchman burst in, panic written across his face as he yelled,

"A tsunami! The storm is really coming!"

.........

Other than dullness, no color could describe the storm; it always struck without warning, save for the frantic cries of birds, devoid of any prelude. When it hit, helplessness and despair could be seen in everyone’s eyes.

When the storm arrived, all other sounds became panicked embellishments, drowned out by the raging wind, countless things swallowed by the storm.

This Coastal Town faced a storm the likes of which it hadn’t seen in a century.

Waves of the tsunami stacked upon one another, as if swallowing heaven and earth, numerous fishing boats unable to return home in time were swept into the ocean in the blink of an eye, without even a chance to cry for help. Against the might of nature, so many things were rendered inconsequentially small.

"Run! Run! Quick, run!"

Believers from the Primordial Church rushed out of the underground tomb, no longer caring that its existence was exposed. They fled into the night, the tomb continuing to creak ominously, soon to collapse.

Massive black clouds loomed over the small town, with people scurrying to find cover. But the storm, spreading for miles, left nowhere to run. The few carriages were torn apart by the fierce winds and rain, wheels and planks flying through the air.

The crowd desperately sought shelter as the sky-high tsunami hammered the town, many people struck down on the spot, or even swept away by the sea. Thatched huts and crudely built longhouses were destroyed completely by the tsunami, only a few stone structures barely holding on.

The pitiful cries of separated spouses, the agonizing screams of mothers who lost their children, the frantic calls of brothers looking for each other—the myriad fears of mankind converged upon this Coastal Town. The town had weathered storms before, but none as terrifying as this one.

It was as if heaven and earth were collapsing.

As if it were... divine destruction.