Super Righteous Player
Chapter 642 - 183 The Secret About "Cup" _1

Chapter 642: Chapter 183 The Secret About "Cup" _1

The small world reflected in the cup had now completely turned into a hell brimming with fresh blood.

Indescribable blood monsters continuously bit, sliced, ground, pricked, pierced, and crushed—

As though hell itself were manifested in the human world.

It was only at this moment that the players finally realized... the transcendent power held by the saints was an absolute military force capable of destroying a nation.

To mortal beings, their mighty power was almost indistinguishable from that of deities.

It was as if the entire world had come to life, striving with all its might to destroy someone.

Even faced with a dragon, there would be brave souls who dared to raise their swords—but only a madman, crazier than Don Quixote, would charge against a storm or a tsunami.

However, facing the malice of the entire world—facing blood waves over a hundred meters high, about twenty stories tall, with protruding fangs, saw blades, sharp teeth, and fine needles—the eyes of the Bloodhand Brothers still held no loss of hope.

This caused Lin Yiyi to feel a strong sense of dissonance.

...Why was that?

Facing an enemy that was invulnerable and irresistible, even though they were trapped in this inescapable small world, they still had not given up hope...

What was the reason to maintain hope in the face of an absolute, irreversible disadvantage?

Rather, what means or pathways could they possibly use to reach the ultimate victory?

"Heh..."

The older brother among the Bloodhand Brothers, a boy who appeared no older than seven or eight, let out a sneer, "It seems you are truly on guard, Miss Saint.

"Sparing no efforts even to offer the saint’s blood to seal us here, recklessly using the power from the sacred remains... perhaps even your Elemental Power.

"—Are you that afraid?"

His voice was low but gradually became louder, as though whispering into a microphone.

As if that voice had already deeply embedded itself into this small world.

"—Are you that afraid of the secret we inherited from our mother?"

The boy’s mocking whisper grew louder, "Then, as you wish..."

"[’Ritual’ originated from an act of sacrifice. This is also where the word ’sacrifice’ came from.]"

Those were words incomprehensible to humans, impossible to utter aloud.

In that instant, the blood waves froze.

Not covered by ice.

But as if petrified by a monster’s gaze—in the blink of an eye they lost their color, the deep red blood turned to ash gray in a moment.

The young fallen one named "Jacob" opened his blood-red eyes, which turned into pure, ashen-gray stone eyes.

As the price for uttering that phrase, his biologically younger brother, who had already aged so considerably behind him, also gradually turned pale with his words, becoming a lifeless stone statue.

With Jacob at the center, all the "blood" around him was frozen, losing color and kinetic energy. Like a grayish-white flower slowly blooming in the sea of blood... and eventually freezing the entire blood sea, turning it into rugged, sharp rocks.

"[The first sacrifice took place before the birth of rivers and mountains. Sibyl placed her daughter—who was both unborn and unconceived, her first and last sister—along with her womb into the golden cup, offering it to the night—]"

These were blasphemous words from the dawn of creation.

They occurred before the birth of the True God.

As these words reverberated through heaven and earth, those blood-turned rocks around him began to collapse into dust.

As if they had never existed.

The closer they were to Jacob, the faster they disintegrated; the farther away, the slower.

And his younger brother behind him also gradually closed his eyes with his words, becoming a quiet stone statue, and rapidly collapsing into nothingness.

The massive blood wave then quietly solidified and dissipated into thin air.

"...How come I also—"

Lin Yiyi, startled and anxious, began to notice that starting from her hands, she was gradually turning to dust... Her body seemed to be dissolving like a phantom dream.

Apart from Xitan Pulan, who existed as a Spiritual Body, other players seemed to be experiencing the same symptoms.

It was as if...

They, too, were about to turn to dust and vanish into thin air.

But in the next instant.

A deep voice followed:

"[...Sibyl’s daughter exists yet does not exist, the womb within the cup is her only proof. The night rejoiced to have a daughter, joy mixed with trepidation—it dared not see, hear, or speak. For all secrets ultimately return to the Sea of Oblivion, and thus the night knows all—]"

That was the "one who stood against himself."

As he chanted, his body, which had crumbled to powder, began to spring forth once more—fine streams of blood like tiny rivers, converging from all directions, joyously reforming his body.

"...How did you not die?!"

Jacob’s expression turned very ugly.

The young saint with honey-colored short hair and golden pupils looked filled with melancholy.

"No, I am already dead."

He said softly, "This is the language before the birth of [Blood], a contextless hatred of blood. It is an insoluble poison to any life born from a mother."

"Then how come you..."

"Because I cannot die yet."

The saint answered calmly and firmly.

"—So, I refused."

He refused the arrival of death.

He returned to the human world merely by his own will.

...Or perhaps, his body helped him as well.

For the holy relic he possessed was named "Flesh of Sacrifice."

Indeed.

He was originally the "walking holy relic."

Because the essence of this holy relic was this very body of Suffering!

As the saint stepped forward.

With his walk, his body, fresh as new, once again inexplicably bore the marks of Suffering—

Frostbite, burns, cuts, strangulation marks, fistulae, bruises...

Countless "wounds" attached to his body anew as the saint walked.

It was the curse he was destined to bear.

"But do you know why I want to kill you?"

The saint said slowly, "Because I must reclaim this forbidden... and ’erroneous’ knowledge.

"I don’t fear it; I abhor it."

The oldest words of Genesis, if taken out of context, could become blasphemy that grievously wounds believers of the True God.

"However, those thirteen deities do have their grace upon this world."

The young man walked slowly and calmly, looking distantly at the boy.

His voice was clear and far-reaching, "Listen well—"

"[Once all is made clear, the unborn daughter will turn into nothingness, and the night cannot close its eyes. Thus the night lets itself be born from the Sea of Oblivion, taking on the likeness of the Goddess of Cup, Sibyl.]

"[She gives her eyes to the infant, and the babe can see all the world’s mysteries; she gives her tongue to the girl, and the girl can utter all the world’s languages; she gives her Wisdom to the young woman, and the maiden can uncover all the world’s secrets.]

"[And so when the world is devoid of mystery, language, and secrets, she retreats the Sea of Oblivion, revealing mountains and rivers.]

"[Only after forgetting herself in the Sea of Oblivion, can the fire of Wisdom be born!]"

Those words were not meant to be spoken in abhorrence of the deities.

Instead, they were the words of Creation, to push back the Sea of Oblivion that would cover the earth, revealing the mountains and rivers in a time when all things shall be forgotten!

It was the greatest secret concerning the Silent Lady, the Mysterious Lady, and the Goddess of Cup!

When the young man recited these hidden truths with correct knowledge, his body did not experience the petrification and disintegration like the boy.

And the boy felt no pain whatsoever.

His body was not turning into a statue as his brother who died for him did... but it gradually began to bleed like rivers—finally, this blood, as if alive, seeped into the ground.

There was no display of a dry trunk after blood loss, nor bones. His entire being seemed to melt away... much like being fermented into wine.

"...Idiot."

The young man placed a hand on his forehead, cursing in a low voice with his eyes closed.

Even for him, using Genesis-level mystical knowledge was painful—only because he had endured enough suffering was he able to disregard it and continue chanting.

"...The ’Heavens Within the Cup’ ritual is taboo precisely because only here can the secrets of the ’Cup’ be used correctly."