Slaying God: I, the insane and witty god

Chapter 1150 The Pope's Scheme and the Red Flower at the Bottom of the Lake

The thunder hammer, carrying a devastating force, smashed the arrogant Netherworld bone dragon deep into the rock strata.

Before he could even let out a scream, he was reduced to bone dust that filled the air.

When Thor landed, his deep blue eyes were bloodshot, and his chest heaved violently like a bellows.

He didn't even glance at the giant beast that had been instantly killed; instead, he charged madly toward the edge of the pit.

He roared at the figure below who was holding Sif: "Sif—!!"

This roar carried the ecstatic joy of regaining what was lost, but also the lingering fear of impending collapse.

Lin Qiye released his grip without making a sound and gently pushed the weak Sif in his arms toward Thor.

This action was performed with great finesse, demonstrating a graceful retreat after successfully rescuing the person.

She also cleverly extricated herself from the drama of the couple's reunion.

Thor grabbed Sif and hugged her tightly, as if he wanted to skewer her into his very bones.

Wu Hen stood beside Lin Qiye, glancing at the two who were enacting a "love story of life and death in the divine realm."

He clicked his tongue in a low voice: "That big oaf almost smashed us all into pancakes just now."

Lin Qiye didn't reply, but lowered his eyes and his fingers almost imperceptibly rubbed against his sleeve.

Although the eerie shadow assassin had disappeared, he still felt a sticky, cold gaze clinging to his back.

The feeling was like being licked by a poisonous snake.

Asgard, outside the Golden Palace.

The atmosphere did not become more relaxed because of the victory; on the contrary, it became even more unsettling.

Inside a secluded church that was not open to the public, the air seemed to have solidified into glue.

Under the high dome, Loki was not dead as everyone thought.

The body that had been beheaded in the pit was indeed a scapegoat pieced together from rotten flesh, but the body itself was in no better condition.

He changed into a plain gray robe, sat in the main seat, and looked as pale as if he had just been pulled out of formaldehyde.

The circle of cardinals standing below were all silent with fear.

They didn't even dare to breathe loudly, for fear of disturbing this cunning god who had just crawled back from the brink of death.

"forty thousand."

Loki suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse, as if he had a handful of sand in his throat.

"Only 40,000 left."

The bishops exchanged glances, and finally the leader reluctantly took half a step forward: "Your Majesty, the underworld... that substitution formation consumed too much energy, and there are indeed only this many living souls left."

"Should the allocation proceed according to the original plan?"

Loki lifted his eyelids, and his eyes, which were usually filled with a playful smile, were now so dark they looked like they could drip water.

“Accurately calculate the strength of each soul.” His fingers tapped unconsciously on the armrest, the rhythm chaotic and rapid.

“Those who are physically strong and whose souls have strong fluctuations should all be selected.”

"The old, weak, sick, and disabled were thrown directly into the furnace as fuel."

“But Your Majesty…” the bishop’s voice trembled.

"If the selection process is this rigorous, we probably won't even be able to raise 20,000 in the end."

"The energy of that altar..."

"Shut up."

Loki suddenly waved his hand, and an invisible wave of energy knocked the bishop to the ground.

"Then let living people fill the gaps!"

Loki stood up, a chilling glint of madness flashing in his eyes.

"Aren't there still so many civilians in Asgard? Arrest them at will."

"Whether they are servants of the gods or commoners, as long as they can open that passage, it doesn't matter how many people die."

The bishop scrambled to his feet, his forehead scraped and bleeding, but he dared not wipe it, and could only nod frantically: "Yes...yes! I'll take care of it!"

Watching the bishops retreat in a panic, Loki slumped back into his chair.

He gripped the handrail tightly, his fingernails almost digging through the hard, sacred wood.

"No. 27..."

He repeatedly chewed on the code name, and deep in his eyes, besides fear, a strange calculation was slowly taking shape.

That shadow assassin was indeed terrifying, but Loki wasn't easily intimidated.

Since the opponent wants to play dirty tricks, then don't blame him for turning the whole chessboard upside down.

Meanwhile, beside a frozen lake on the edge of Asgard.

Far from the hustle and bustle of the Golden Palace, only a few withered oak trees stretched towards the sky like ghostly claws.

Leng Xuan stood alone by the lake, toying with a strangely shaped dagger in his hand.

This dagger is no ordinary iron; the blade has a translucent gray color, as if it were polished from the bone of some kind of creature.

He cautiously looked around, and only after confirming that no one was following him did he squat down and quickly carve lines on the frozen lake surface with his dagger.

That wasn't ordinary graffiti, but an extremely complex rune.

With each stroke, something seemed to respond from beneath the ice, emitting a series of muffled hums.

After finishing the last stroke, Leng Xuan took out a dried red flower from his pocket.

The flower looks ordinary, like a dried wildflower that can be found anywhere by the roadside.

But he handled it with extreme care, as if he were holding some fragile treasure.

"Go."

He muttered something under his breath, flicked his wrist, and threw the red flower into the center of the rune.

hum-

In that instant, the once calm and mirror-like ice surface suddenly began to twist violently.

In the reflection, it seemed as if some enormous creature was awakening deep within, and a chilling aura seeped through the ice.

The red flower didn't fall onto the ice; instead, it sank directly down as if passing through the water, disappearing into the distorted reflection.

Leng Xuan immediately sheathed his dagger and turned to leave without pausing.

But after taking only a couple of steps, an indescribable sense of tension forced him to slow down.

I forced myself to adjust my breathing, trying to make myself look like nothing was wrong.

That was a beacon for that behemoth "outside".

Golden Palace Square.

Lin Qiye and Wu Hen sat side by side on a collapsed stone pillar, watching Thor directing the Divine Guard to clear the battlefield in the distance.

Number 22 has long since disappeared. He's probably still furious about being used as bait, and he's probably hiding somewhere preparing a big surprise.

"hiss……"

Wu Hen suddenly gasped and clutched his shoulder.

There was an inconspicuous wound there, caused by something during the chaotic fight just now.

The bleeding has stopped, and a dark red scab has formed.

"What's wrong?" Lin Qiye turned his head, his gaze falling on the wound.

"It's a little itchy." Wu Hen frowned, reaching out to scratch.

"It's like that kind of itching...like when a wound is healing, but this feeling isn't quite right."

Lin Qiye grabbed his hand, his eyes instantly turning cold: "Don't move."

He leaned closer to take a look, and his pupils contracted slightly.

Beneath the skin around the wound, several thin black lines could be vaguely seen moving like living things, desperately trying to burrow into the flesh.

"This is a tracking mark." Lin Qiye's voice was terrifyingly deep.

"Left by Tyr."

Wu Hen's expression changed: "That one-armed war god? When did he make his move?"

"It was probably when you were trying to ambush that scapegoat Loki."

Lin Qiye released his grip and turned his gaze to the thick thunderclouds above the temple, where the next storm seemed to be brewing.

"It seems that Asgard doesn't intend to let us leave comfortably."

Lin Qiye stood up, dusted off his backside, and a playful smile curved his lips.

"That's good, saves us the trouble of searching for them one by one."

Looking at him like this, Wu Hen couldn't help but roll his eyes: "Big brother, we're under a tracking spell, not the lottery."

"Could you act a little more flustered?"

"Why are you panicking?"

Lin Qiye narrowed his eyes, his gaze seemingly piercing through layers of palace walls, landing on the God of Tricks who wasn't quite dead yet.

"Since the main character is still alive, the show must continue."

"It's good to keep this tracking charm; it'll be our guidepost when we go to settle accounts with the Pope."

He turned around and waved to Wu Hen.

"Let's go, it's time to deliver a big gift to that god who 'came back from the dead'."

The real test has only just begun.