OBS Chapter 71 Oh no, they're all Challenge-level White Feather People!
Chapter 71 Oh no, they're all Challenge-level White Feather People!
Chapter 71 Oh no, they're all Challenge-level White Feather People!
In the Kingdom of God.
"Tsk, still can't break through to the Bronze level directly? Ribbit! Lucien, what are you doing, messing with gods and demons!"
Luo Huan, in his white cat form, bristled, arched his back, flattened his ears into airplane ears, and breathed wildly into the void with his palms facing each other.
"Don't make it so my president can't get excited!"
Although the effect of this stirring was quite good, the Milk Dragon jumped two levels to become half a Bronze level, which far exceeded expectations.
But she was still dissatisfied.
If the healer performs a super big move but can't advance further due to the upper limit, then it would be a huge loss.
"Wait! If you can't keep up, I'll replace you!"
The cat's mouth was wide open, the curve so exaggerated it resembled a cartoon character with sharp teeth and a smiling face.
"Go on, hurry up and get some work done, otherwise it'll be too boring."
She stretched out her paws, pressing her paw pads onto the pink beads.
Private planes swept through the clouds.
Lucien Alden leaned back in his leather seat, looking at the news headlines pushed to his tablet:
The president announced the launch of "Operation Cleanup".
Seres Ministry of Foreign Affairs notifies overseas nationals to withdraw.
"Announcing an evacuation? Typical of you."
He twitched the corner of his mouth.
Outside the cabin, the Utah desert stretched out below.
Salt Lake City lies ahead, another "Eye of Fear," the World's 502nd location.
Suddenly, a surge of heat welled up inside me.
It's an energy infusion, feedback from the breakthrough on the Milk Dragon's side.
Power surged through my veins, muscle fibers trembled slightly, and my sensory thresholds were raised once again.
Almost simultaneously, a voice resounded deep within his consciousness, calm yet carrying an unmistakable urgency: "Art needs to blossom."
Lucien's body stiffened for a moment.
This is God's dissatisfaction with his slow progress.
He closed his eyes, then opened them again a few seconds later, and whispered into the empty cabin:
-
"I will. I will give you a performance that is exciting enough."
Salt Lake City International Airport.
A black Lincoln Navigator picked me up from the airport.
The driver was a blond man, around thirty years old, with features as perfect as a magazine model, and a perfectly shaped smile.
"Welcome to Salt Lake City, Mr. Alden."
His voice was also standard, American English without any accent.
The car drove out of the airport.
The streets are wide, the buildings are low and neat, and the exterior walls are mostly made of light-colored stone or brick.
There weren't many pedestrians, but everyone who passed by was dressed conservatively but appropriately; men mostly wore shirts and trousers, and women wore skirts that went below the knee.
They were almost all white, with blond or brown hair, well-proportioned figures, and gentle expressions on their faces.
It's quite rare to find that there's no cloying sweet smell of marijuana in the air.
Lucien looked out the window.
The sun was shining brightly, and the lawn was manicured like a golf course.
Several children were playing in the park, and mothers were chatting on a bench. Everyone had a gentle smile on their face.
Everyone was friendly.
While waiting at a red light, a middle-aged woman in the next lane rolled down her car window and smiled and nodded at him.
That's perfect.
The standards were so precise that they reminded him of the sacrificial animals kept by families in Atlanta for use in rituals.
A champion-level white-feathered human, with pure bloodline, handsome appearance, and gentle personality.
After all, how can something of inferior quality be offered to the Lord?
And the people here also have that kind of temperament.
The car continued driving.
As he passed through the city center, he saw several homeless people sitting on a bench on a street corner, wrapped in blankets.
There were not many people, in small groups of three or five, but they were quiet and didn't have the restlessness or apathy commonly seen on the streets of the East Coast.
There are no signs of mass unemployment.
The shops remained open as usual, and the outdoor seating area of the cafe was packed with people.
Everything seemed normal.
It's strangely normal.
Just like the Noah AI controversy didn't affect this place at all.
The car drove straight out of the city and then turned onto a tree-lined avenue lined with spacious detached houses on both sides.
The walls were very high, and the iron gates were tightly closed.
After driving for another ten minutes, a church appeared ahead.
The car stopped at the side door.
The driver opened the car door for him: "The prophet is waiting for you inside."
Lucien entered the church.
The interior space has a ceiling height of over 20 meters, and light shines in from the high side windows, forming several beams of light in the air.
Then he saw the lights.
The chandeliers, wall lamps, and even the relief decorations on the ceiling are all made of bone.
It is not a rough patchwork of bones, but a finely carved skeleton, polished smooth as ivory, with intricate religious patterns: angels, lambs, grapevines, and ears of wheat.
The story of Genesis unfolds on the ceiling: Cain killing Abel, Noah's Ark, Moses parting the Red Sea. Each panel is carved from human bones, with vivid facial expressions and clear folds in the clothing.
There's a smell in the air.
It was very faint, mostly masked by the scented candle, but Lucien could still smell it:
The unique, slightly sweet, caramelized aroma of protein after it has been baked.
The church pews were full of people.
There were about two hundred people, half men and half women, ranging in age from twenty to sixty.
They were dressed in formal attire or tuxedos, sat upright with their hands on their knees, and their eyes were all fixed on the podium.
They all tilted their heads back, listening intently to the preacher on the platform.
Everyone's face has a standard of beauty.
Regardless of height, weight, or whether they are wearing inexpensive suits or custom-made dresses, everyone's face possesses a standard of beauty.
It's not stunning, but the kind of beauty that conforms to the golden ratio, with well-proportioned features, smooth skin, and no flaws.
Blonde hair, blue or green eyes, high nose bridge, and well-defined jawline.
This is a typical example of convergence after bloodline screening.
The prophet stood on the pulpit.
Roman Nacool News.
He was different from the people in the audience. He was in his fifties, with gray hair, a slightly wide face, a low nose bridge, and dark brown eyes.
She's not ugly, but she definitely doesn't meet the standard of beauty.
He was preaching, his voice amplified by the speakers, echoing throughout the church: "—He will descend upon this land, this final chosen place. Not Jerusalem, not Rome. It is here, Salt Lake City, New Zion."
Everyone in the audience listened quietly, their expressions devout and their eyes focused.
Lucien stood in the shadows of the back row, his gaze sweeping over those perfect faces.
Classroom 502.
The biblical heresy.
"So, does this mean this place is still considered heretical?"
After all, the Lord is truly watching over America now, and she has truly been chosen and received the gift. So, is the 502 Church, which believes that America is the Promised Land, still considered heretical?
He took a deep breath and unconsciously pressed his fingers against his abdomen.
The stigmata are acting up.
"Whatever, this is the stage I've chosen anyway."
Finally, looking at the prophet standing on top, "—So we must remain pure and perfect, for He only accepts perfect offerings."
The sermon is drawing to a close.
"Sir, the Prophet requests your presence over here—"
A waitress walked over and gestured to him.
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