Purgatory Artist
Chapter 559: The Old Man and the Boy

Chapter 559: The Old Man and the Boy

(TN: Where is Doom Guy when we need him?!)

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Liu Ping raised his knife and fork, his mind calm for a moment.

First.

He was currently under protection—no harm, no death, no being eaten.

Because tomorrow was his "Manifestation."

This seemed to be an important event, even for the monsters.

Second.

This meat belonged to God.

It radiated an unparalleled, indescribable, and unimaginable holy power—he sensed no ill omen, disaster, or poison from it.

Finally.

With the combined powers of "Special Effects Artist" and "Deception," he should be able to fool the surrounding monsters.

So—

The only decision he had to make was whether to actually eat this flesh of God.

What would happen if he did?

Occultism.

Liu Ping suddenly paused his knife and turned to his "parents," asking in an odd tone:

"Don’t you feel like this has happened before?"

"Father" and "Mother" froze.

"Silly child, we’ve never brought you to a restaurant like this before. Maybe you’ve been dreaming of a feast like this—go on, eat," ’Mother’ said sentimentally.

"Yes, this isn’t a dream. It’s real steak. Eat up," ’Father’ added gently.

Liu Ping nodded.

How strange... I feel like I’ve seen this before.

When was it?

His knife descended, lightly slicing into the golden flesh.

Instantly—

A line of burning text flashed before his eyes:

[This moment was foreseen by the Omniscient and Omnipotent Lord. In accordance with your pact, memories from past eras have been returned to you.]

A thought erupted from the depths of his mind, unfolding at a speed beyond time, transforming into a scene from a bygone age.

Under a dusky sky.

The city lay in ruins.

The earth was parched, locusts swarmed the air, and the sound of clashing blades and screams echoed through the twisting alleys.

The end of an era had come.

A boy curled up in the corner of a dried-up fountain at the city’s heart, ignored by the slaughter around him.

Covered in wounds, his body reeked of plague—he was clearly dying.

No one dared approach the sick.

Even stray dogs sniffed the air and fled.

The boy stayed there from dusk till night.

Then—

A voice spoke:

"Child, I need your help."

The boy weakly turned his head.

An old man in white robes knelt before him, his expression sorrowful.

"I’m... dying. How can I help you?" the boy mumbled.

The old man shrugged. "The stench is well-crafted—like rotting flesh. Your hiding spot is clever too: shielded from direct sunlight and prying eyes, with a few liters of water left in the pipe under your left shoulder."

The boy’s eyes widened as he reassessed the old man.

"Bread for breakfast, a chicken stolen from a dog at noon, and nothing for dinner, right?" the old man added.

"Huh? You’re interesting. You seem to know everything about me," the boy said, no longer pretending. He sat up, leaning against the wall.

The old man smiled. "Don’t bother with the brick. The dagger hidden behind it won’t hurt me."

The boy’s hand stilled.

"If you’re so powerful, why come to me?"

The old man’s eyes darkened with grief. "Because knowing too much makes me unhappy."

"Then know less," the boy said simply.

"It’s my nature," the old man replied.

"If it makes you miserable, why keep it?"

The old man paused, then said, "I have a task for you."

"The world’s gone mad. I haven’t scammed anyone in ages—you seem like a big shot. Why would you need a street rat like me?"

"I am a man of magic, trusted by many. They pray to me every moment, begging for my protection and guidance," the old man said.

"What’s that got to do with me?"

"I face a dilemma. Before entrusting it to you, I must test your skills. If you pass—"

The old man reached into his robe, pulling out a handful of multicolored gems.

"That’s a fortune. But sorcerers are rare—are you recruiting me for a big job?" the boy asked, licking his lips.

The old man raised his other hand, casting a gentle light that healed the boy’s wounds.

"Okay... Now I believe you’re a sorcerer," the boy admitted.

"Will you accept my test?"

"A test before the job?"

"This test troubles me too. I want to see if you can handle it."

"Fine. Show me."

Strangely, during their conversation, the surrounding violence, locusts, and beasts had all retreated from the area.

The old man waved his hand, conjuring a scene:

On a towering city wall, warriors in resplendent armor stood ready.

But the walls were useless.

The enemy came from the sky.

Countless monsters shrouded in gray mist, their crimson eyes glowing, descended upon the humans.

A colossal entity landed with a crash, looming over the tiny warriors.

"They’re going to lose?" the boy asked.

"Yes. They pray to me silently," the old man said.

"What do they say?"

"’Beloved Lord, we are in trouble.’"

"They’re calling for you?"

"Yes."

"Then help them."

"If I act, the enemy will discern my methods, and I will be utterly destroyed," the old man said.

"Ah, so you can’t let them catch on. What’s the test, then?"

In the vision, the humans stopped praying.

Nothing had happened.

The old man’s silence drove them to madness. They roared:

"Lord! We guard your holy land! We face annihilation, and you abandon us?"

The boy looked at the old man.

The old man shrugged. "This is the test—I cannot act, but I must respond, letting events unfold as they should."

"’As they should’ means—"

"These events must happen without deviation. Only then will there be hope in the future," the old man said.

"They’re in deep trouble. What’s yours?" the boy snapped.

"I love these mortals. I don’t want them to lose faith or turn to darkness in their final moments," the old man said.

"So let things play out, but keep them faithful till death?"

"Yes. Then, perhaps, I can reclaim their souls later," the old man said.

"Easy. Just lie to them," the boy said, spreading his hands.

"I never lie," the old man said sternly.

"So—"

"So this is your test: no lies, yet they must keep their faith."

The boy thought for a second. "Can I speak as you?"

"Yes."

"Then let’s start over."

The scene reset.

On the sacred walls, the warriors looked up as monsters descended.

The colossal entity landed, glaring down at them.

"Listen," the old man said.

The boy heard their silent prayers:

"Beloved Lord, we are in trouble."

The boy nodded, lips sealed.

Moments later, as the humans began to rage, the boy spoke into the vision:

"No, you are not in trouble."

"At this moment, nothing is trouble—you guard my domain. Take up your arms and charge without hesitation."

"Charge!"

"Charge!"

"I grant you fearless courage!"

His words echoed with the old man’s voice, infused with divine authority.

The warriors shuddered.

Years of unwavering faith ignited in this critical moment.

Inspired, they rallied, attacking the monster with everything they had.

In seconds, the creature was swarmed.

Blades hacked, spears thrust, and the monster roared—

"Stop!" the old man commanded.

The scene froze.

"They’ll die," the old man said.

"Yes. But they died faithful, and you didn’t act. You got what you wanted," the boy said coolly.

"You swore not to lie. Deception voids all causality," the old man pressed.

"I didn’t lie."

"No?"

"Let them move again," the boy said.

The old man waved his hand.

The scene resumed.

The boy whispered: "Now, my friends, you are truly in trouble."

The monster bellowed in frustration—

They didn’t fall to darkness!

It inhaled, unleashing a wave of gray power that annihilated the humans.

The old man’s eyes blazed with sudden understanding.

He dismissed the vision.

"Perfect. Everything proceeded as ordained. Their souls remained pure till death, returning to me. I see now—all must perish, but hope remains."

"And you proved the Lord never deceives."

He regarded the boy solemnly.

"You are a true trickster."

"In dark times, when courage and sacrifice fail, perhaps deception is the answer. It preserves a spark for the dawn."

"You’ve earned my task."