Chapter 171 Crossroads of History

The figure was tall, seemingly even taller than Inquisitor Vanna, and very thin, as if only a dry husk of flesh and blood was wrapped inside the dark trench coat. It held an open umbrella in the enclosed space, the lowered canopy concealing the uninvited guest's face – yet with a single glance, the old priest could see the shadows of desecration and distortion upon the figure's body.

"The Black Sun's remnants?" The old man stared at the figure in shock, then roared, "You dare set foot in this sacred library!"

The next moment, a loud bang shattered the silence of the archive. The old priest had already drawn his large-caliber revolver from his waist, the blessed bullet carrying a blaze of light and thunder. But perhaps the old man's limbs were too slow. Before the shot, the figure had already moved – two phantoms suddenly darted from beneath its coat. The first directly blocked the bullet in mid-air, while the other instantly crossed the ten-meter distance, striking the old priest's shoulder.

An ear-splitting sound of metal grinding against metal rang out, and the old priest's body flew sideways, crashing into a nearby bookshelf. The massive bookshelf shook violently, sending countless books and documents tumbling down.

The strange, umbrella-carrying shadow began walking towards where the old priest had fallen, a low, chaotic murmur emanating from within, sounding like filthy flesh churning in a boiling pot.

But the next moment, a roar suddenly erupted from the pile of collapsed books and scrolls, and the old priest leaped out. He now held a sharp steel sword, which whistled as it cut through the air, slashing swiftly towards the figure invading the archive.

The intruder stopped abruptly, tilting the black umbrella slightly to block the fierce strike. A series of sparks flew between the steel sword and the umbrella's ribs. Then, the old priest flipped back to the ground, his sword continuing its arc without pause, slashing towards the intruder's side from another direction!

The longsword whirled, metal clashing against metal. The old man's mechanical limbs issued a low, hoarse cry. The Storm Sword Technique, honed over decades, unleashed its power once more after many years of dormancy. Continuous spins and arcs of attack poured towards the blasphemous foe like relentless waves, and within the circles drawn by the sword, layers of illusory waves could be faintly seen, constantly forming – these illusory waves grew more and more real, heavier and heavier, and finally began to display the impact and power of true ocean waves!

The power of the Storm Goddess filled the continuous circular strikes, the crushing pressure of the waves infused into the specially forged steel sword. Each strike carried the salty sea wind, causing the surrounding air and ground to tremble slightly.

The intruder's black umbrella was exceptionally sturdy, remaining unshaken even after more than ten strikes, but the figure itself was constantly retreating. Under the continuous impact of the superimposed waves, it was slowly pushed back to the edge of a nearby bookshelf. Slightly agitated roars and murmurs emanated from within, filled with a bewitching power.

But the old priest had already sealed off all unnecessary senses, completely ignoring the noise made by the intruder – he knew his attack could not stop. The Storm Sword Technique required continuous pressure, like waves that could not be stopped midway. Moreover, these 'remnants' split from the Sun's Descendants possessed considerable power. If he interrupted his suppression, the opponent would escape this entanglement in the next second.

At the same time, the old priest was filled with astonishment – how had this blasphemous dreg infiltrated the archive? This church, filled with the Goddess's power, countless mechanical defenses, and more than a dozen layers of guards both overt and hidden, could stop even the Sun's Descendants themselves. How could it have failed to detect the intrusion of a mere 'remnant'?

Could it be… that this remnant did not enter the church through the normal spatial structure?

Just then, a sharp sound of something cutting through the air suddenly rang out. The old priest's muscles tensed instantly. The experienced warrior reacted in the first moment, not stopping his sword, but adjusting its angle slightly, preparing to meet the intruder's sneak attack.

A sharp pain came from his side.

The continuous sword light stopped. The old priest looked in dismay at the tendril that had pierced his body, watching blood slowly dripping from the edge of his tattered robes. The brass prosthetic limbs radiated scorching heat, their badly worn (End of Chapter)

Chapter 171 Crossroads of History

corroded gears emitting one last burst of noise before grinding to a halt.

Another second passed before the old priest realized what had happened – he was old.

He and the gears on his body were old.

With a sickening sound, the hideous tendril slowly retracted into the intruder's clothes. The inhuman thing slowly approached the old man, who was supporting himself with his sword, struggling not to fall. It lowered the black umbrella, revealing a mass of constantly swelling and deforming flesh, like a blooming blood-red flower, as its "head." A hoarse voice came from its "pistil."

It spoke in a barely discernible Common Tongue:

"Go tell your god that this ugly era is over. The sun will be resurrected from history."

"History…" The old priest's body trembled. He had not fallen, but he no longer had the strength to raise his sword. Suddenly, he understood, "You have corrupted history?!"

The intruder seemed to smile, though it was only a blooming flower of flesh. A hint of a smile seemed to appear in its trembling 'petals' and disordered teeth: "On the day the great fire was ignited, everyone's wishes were fulfilled."

The old priest slowly lowered his head, life rapidly fading from his aging body. He seemed to have finally given up his struggle in the world and began to calmly await the arrival of his final moment.

The intruder seemed rather bored by this result. It raised its umbrella again, preparing to leave.

But the next moment, a booming sound of metal grinding against metal suddenly rang out. The completely stalled mechanical prosthetic limbs once again emitted the noise of gears turning and oil pumps pressurizing. The intruder turned back in astonishment, only to see a sword light approaching swiftly.

"May you bear witness!"

The old priest roared, his steel sword slashing without hesitation towards the intruder's body. This time, there was no black umbrella to block it, no tendrils to interfere. The blade, infused with all his remaining strength, cut through the enemy's body almost as if tearing a piece of cloth.

The intruder was split in half in astonishment, the two sections of its body falling to the ground.

But the next moment, the two severed sections of its body suddenly emitted disgusting sounds of flesh wriggling. Countless tiny tendrils of flesh spread from within, beginning to converge and reform.

The intruder slowly reshaped itself, a roar filled with annoyance emanating from within.

The old priest had already lowered his sword tip, and his body slowly tilted to the ground. His turbid eyes looked at the intruder

as it slowly stood up again, a relieved smile on its face.

He knew that his last strength could not kill this monster. Even as a remnant, it was still a remnant of the Sun's Descendants, far beyond what a dying and aged guardian could contend with using only a steel sword. But at least, he had proven his loyalty to the Goddess before his death.

The storm had witnessed it, and it was time to end.

The intruder stood up again. In annoyance, tendrils filled with corrupting power spread from its body, the edges of the tendrils lined with sharp teeth.

And in the old priest's vision, he saw a great fire rising behind the intruder. The archive was on fire, and the entire church was burning in the blaze.

The Goddess's statue collapsed in the distance with a thunderous crash.

A Pland that had been completely destroyed by flames was appearing in his vision, a historical branch where 'a fragment of the sun had successfully descended, and the guardians of Pland had been annihilated' was presented before his eyes.

The old man's consciousness gradually sank into this corrupted historical branch, but suddenly, the corner of his eye caught something else.

Clusters of dark green flames were spreading obscurely in the raging fire, along the gaps between light and shadow, along the phantoms rising in the flames. The dark green flames were splitting and flowing everywhere.

Behind a collapsed bookshelf nearby, a cluster of dark green flames seemed to suddenly 'smell' something. It darted over suddenly, pouncing towards the intruder, who was preparing to deliver the final blow, like a hunting dog that had found its prey.

The old priest watched all of this in confusion. His consciousness was floating between reality and illusion, almost unable to distinguish whether what he was seeing was real or a hallucination. He saw the intruder suddenly enveloped in green flames (End of Chapter)

Chapter 171 Crossroads of History

, and its body, containing the power of the Sun's Descendants, melted away like wax. He heard the dying screams of the intruder echoing throughout the archive, filled with unbelievable madness and terror.

Then, everything fell silent.

The sea of fire receded, and the corrupted history temporarily returned to the depths of the curtain. The archive, located in the crevice between the two historical branches, fell into silence, unvisited, untouched.

reflected a safe and surviving Pland, while the other eye reflected a historical branch where the sun destroyed the world.

And he no longer belonged to either of them – he had neither died in that great fire, nor had he survived it.

The cooling blood flowed from beneath the old priest's body. As if controlled by a powerful will, the blood flowed quietly on the ground, condensing into a string of footprints, slowly extending towards the administrator's console not far away…