Chapter Eighteen: Everyone, Lend Me a Helping Hand!

As soon as these words were spoken, all the foreign ambassadors present were utterly dumbfounded. The same shock rippled through those watching the broadcast, both at home and abroad, including the leaders of every nation.

Divinity? It was a word none were unfamiliar with. The tales of religion were, after all, tales of the divine. But what were gods? In those stories, they were beings endowed with miraculous powers, displaying wonders, and were nearly omnipotent.

And yet, precisely because everyone understood what such a claim entailed, the announcement sounded utterly absurd. How could gods truly exist? And now, Daxia was declaring war against these legendary, fictitious beings?

“Are you joking?” Ambassador Matsuken of the Turtlefield nation wore a look of disbelief. “Though our own land claims the protection of Izanami, we all know these gods simply don’t exist in the real world… To say that in three months, gods will descend—this is just laughable!”

Old Jin sighed. “I regret to inform you,” he said, “that gods do indeed exist. I am not exaggerating, nor speaking in metaphor. The gods I refer to are precisely those you know from your own traditions. And their invasion of Blue Star is imminent. In three months, when the gods descend, it will be a massacre. I speak here, first to inform our own people of Daxia, and second, out of goodwill, to warn you as well. For though there have been conflicts between us, we are all human. In the face of a divine invasion, we must set aside old enmities and stand together.”

His gaze was earnest and sincere. Even though many of the nations represented here had once bullied Daxia and shared a blood-soaked history with it, the people of Daxia had always been magnanimous. Now, with the gods’ arrival at hand, all humanity must cast aside its internal strife and unite. The old wounds would, in time, be redressed, but as fellow members of humankind, Daxia felt compelled to warn them. Only thus could humanity hope to endure the coming storm.

Such was the moral stature of the Daxia people.

Yet—

“Haha! Are all you Daxia folk this funny?” scoffed Matsuken. “Going on about gods—do you have any proof?”

Old Jin glanced at him, then, unwilling to waste another word, stepped down from the podium in silence.

Chief Scientist Chen Yan strode up, his voice low and steady. “Of course we have evidence. Allow me to show you a video first, and then I will present something more tangible.”

The projection behind them flickered to life.

Deep beneath the sea.

Bones. Colossal bones, like those of a giant!

In the darkness of the abyss, those hollow sockets seemed to gaze out at everyone, instilling a profound sense of insignificance. It was the gaze of a higher order of being.

For a moment, all present felt their scalps prickle with dread. Even the viewers across the world were left speechless, shaken to their core by the sight.

“Omg, what is that? A giant from myth?”

“Incredible… Such a thing in the ocean’s depths? I think I’m actually scared of the sea now.”

“Just seeing it standing there makes me want to kneel. Is that what a god is?”

“The skeleton… so such creatures really did exist?”

“If this thing were alive, I doubt we’d even have the courage to look at it directly. Just seeing its bones makes me feel the smallness of being human.”

“This,” Chen Yan intoned, “is the corpse of a god we have discovered. They have already visited this world, and we are now certain that in three months, more gods will appear in succession.”

“And here—” Chen Yan held up a fragment of white bone, face grave. “This is a sample we retrieved from the deep sea. Our analysis…”

“Hahaha!” Ambassador Matsuken suddenly burst out laughing. “You Daxia people are something else—showing us a CGI clip and a random bone, then claiming it’s proof the gods are coming! I watched a movie yesterday—should we get ready for Thanos, too? And your so-called divine relic—didn’t Liberty Nation already try that trick with washing powder? This is all a farce!”

He rose to his feet again, sneering. “Gentlemen, we may as well take our leave. Seems Daxia is just a bunch of fanatics—do we really need to listen to their nonsense about gods?”

With that, he turned arrogantly and strode out of the press conference. The other ambassadors followed suit, departing one by one.

Chen Yan watched silently, sighing with regret, “You cannot carve rotten wood.”

Old Jin snorted, “We warned them out of kindness. If they’re in such a hurry to die, there’s nothing we can do.”

He turned, hoping to see Lin Fan’s reaction, but found the young man had already slipped away.

At that moment—

Lin Fan sat in the command center’s conference room, gazing at the dozen or so people arrayed before him. Their ages varied—some in their fifties, others barely into their teens, men and women alike, each with a distinct aura.

Seated beside him, the leader spoke slowly. “These are the ones you requested. Frankly, I was reluctant to let them go. They are the treasures of Daxia. Treat them well—let them serve the Godslayer Corps to their fullest potential.”

With those words, the leader patted Lin Fan’s shoulder and left the room, flanked by two bodyguards.

Lin Fan sat in silence, studying the group before him. Each was a hidden master of ancient martial arts, cherished and protected by Daxia’s military. Behind every one of them stood a true martial family of legend. These were not charlatans or scam artists, but warriors born for battle.

Lin Fan knew well that as the gods descended and the aura of their realm began to seep into Blue Star, the power of these individuals would soar to new heights. In the wars to come, they would become renowned champions of humankind—some destined to slay gods themselves.

At the front sat a brawny man, rough-hewn, fists knotted with muscle, his body powerfully built—clearly an external martial artist.

“Wang Hu of the Xingyi Sect,” he introduced himself.

Next, a man of twenty-seven or twenty-eight, dressed in a scholar’s robe, refined in appearance, a gentle smile playing at his lips, exuding the air of a learned man.

“Mo Buzhi, Grand Scholar of the Confucian Sect.”

Behind him, an old man in Taoist robes, holding a horsetail whisk, sat with eyes closed, an aura of distortion subtly swirling around him.

“Dao Wanqian, Headmaster of the Daoist Sect.”

A middle-aged monk, expression serene, sat nearby, murmuring prayers with his beads, from which a faint golden light seemed to emanate.

“Compassionate Master, the Living Buddha of the Buddhist Sect.”

Yet it was two figures in the corner who caught Lin Fan’s eye.

One was a young man, trailed by a wooden bird that flitted nimbly about him, sometimes perching on his shoulder, sometimes letting out a lively trill—so lifelike it seemed almost real.

Gongshu Ming of the Mo Sect, a direct descendant of Gongshu Ban, the legendary craftsman known as Luban.

The other was a girl clad in tight-fitting night attire, her delicate face half-veiled in black, giving her an air of mystery. Yet her graceful posture and lively eyes revealed her beauty. She lounged lazily in her chair, arms wrapped around a slender Tang blade, her jet-black ponytail swaying gently.

Her attire recalled the ninjas of Turtlefield, but in truth, her sect was the very progenitor of those foreign assassins.

“Xing Ye of the Shadowed Mo Sect,” she said.

Lin Fan’s gaze swept across them all. “I trust the leader has already informed you of my identity and why you have been summoned,” he began with a smile. “The gods are coming. We will need more than an iron wall to shield our people, more than mass conscription to defend our land. What we need most is a dagger, one sharp enough to pierce the heart of the divine.”

“You, as those who have lived hidden among mortals, possess a strength far beyond the ordinary. So—”

“I ask you all, lend me your strength. Join the Godslayer Corps. Stand against the gods, and save Daxia!”

With that, Lin Fan rose sharply to his feet and bowed deeply to the assembled masters.