Greed, hunger, jealousy, anger...
How long has it been since such emotions have appeared?
"So, you an only those who pray devoutly and gradually wash away their original sin can be so pure, right?" Ji Jue asked curiously.
Yan Fei remained silent and nodded.
Following Ji Jue's request, he restrained the venomous words that slipped out of his mouth and the hatred and resentnt that did not fit this place.
As if subrged beneath the sea, he felt suffocated after just a few short hours.
"Hey, even the living dead have such elegant titles..."
Ji Jue sighed sincerely, "Human creativity is truly boundless."
The bell rang again!
Like the tide, prayers and hymns echoed once more, covering every corner of the streets and alleys, everyone respectfully kneeling on the ground.
In the corner, two figures wearing protective talismans that reduced their presence and others' attention were indistinguishable from the ubiquitous saint statues, inconspicuous.
Ji Jue curiously tapped the wall beside him, and suddenly a tile dislodged from high on the Holy Hall, falling hundreds of ters and crashing down.
Boom!
A praying believer on the ground had their head instantly smashed into pulp.
The nearby believers seed oblivious, as if nothing happened, keeping their eyes lowered and praising, until the prayer ended, when screams of terror erupted from the street.
Finally, soone realized...
The glazed tile fell from the highest point of the Holy Hall!
Such negligence!
Gathered together, the crowd began to repair it with collective effort, stepping over the headless remains, while the believer on the ground, whose head was gradually regenerating, climbed up and volunteered to roll up their sleeves, ascending.
Amid the cheers and shouts of everyone, the tiles were replaced.
Ji Jue was amazed, almost moved to the point of tears – can human beings, such tools, be so useful?
How impressive!
He silently witnessed the incredible scene before him, and on each Holy Hall, the radiant and crystalline light.
The light surged upward, even if it was so fleeting, uncountable rays converged into a mighty river, flowing toward the distant Sky City in the Central District.
This magnificent spectacle occurs once every three hours, even more at night, with countless people praying day and night, without pause!
No, rather than praying, it's more 'paying tax', right?
With the illusory emblem embedded within his soul, Ji Jue had seen the source of countless light points... At this mont, all awareness and souls within the Illusion Dream.
The gods are so generous.
No need for monetary offerings, nor the labor and sacrifice of mortals, just prayers, just continuously paying 'self' as tax is enough to please the gods and receive their generous gift.
The so-called [Prayer], is through focused ditation, gradually peeling away the core deepest within the soul, the 'selfhood' that constitutes consciousness.
Countless selfhoods turn into light points, continuously falling into the mouth of the gods.
Just like herding cattle and sheep.
In this dreamlike slaughterhouse, the lambs unknowingly keep splitting their souls and unresistingly offering them at the altar.
Over ti, clay becos mountain, water accumulates into sea, through this steady stream, sparse yet widespread harvesting increases the value and return of the believers to the maximum.
And in the process of gradually separating and splitting 'self' and 'selfhood', humans gradually lose their emotions, obsessions and desires, even the ability to think, step by step toward becoming the living dead.
In the end, they completely forget their own appearance, transforming into faceless ones in dreams, even when there is no value to harvest, they can still serve as a pivot for the dream, making this dream of yellow beams ever more stable.
Even at last, they do not know what they have lost.
Perhaps even if they knew, they wouldn't care.
Self?
Is it useful?
In the world outside, can it be exchanged for a piece of bread? Can it be exchanged for an ergency life-saving dicine? Even if you kneel and kowtow, abandon dignity, reveal humiliating acts, would it make the guns of the warlords lift an inch?
Compared to the harsh reality, isn't this dream considered rciful?
In the end, everyone will willingly go to the place they have chosen... whether ahead lies Hell or Heaven.
How much blood and tears is Heaven built from?
And who created Hell?
"How pitiful..."
Ji Jue murmured softly, continuing forward, his steps unchanging.
Yan Fei followed behind him, maintaining his pace, but during the progress, couldn't help but keep glancing at the silhouette ahead.
For so reason, he felt like Mr. Ji no longer smiled.
.
.
"Oh, you two have finally returned."
Behind the splendid Holy Hall, outside an inconspicuous warehouse, Bao Dacai lazily smoked his hand-rolled cigarette, yawning, "Really made this old man wait a long ti, huh? Today's young people have no respect for the elderly and care for the young... My old arms and legs..."
"Dear, if you can't wait, we suggest you go directly to funerals."
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