Chapter Four: An Audience with the Throne

Old Jin sat behind his desk. Though he was approaching sixty, his frame remained tall and imposing, his posture straight as an arrow. The mere act of sitting imbued him with an undeniable aura of authority and strength, compelling those before him to obey almost instinctively—a man wreathed in the aura of battle.

Yet, facing this man whose position and status were unassailable, Lin Fan simply shook his head. “You’re not qualified.”

“I’m not qualified?” Old Jin tapped the desk with an impassive expression. “Do you know who I am?”

“I do,” Lin Fan sighed, “In fact, I know you better than you know yourself. I’ve said it before: I am a god of the future. To be precise, I was reborn from fifteen years hence. In my last life, you died before me.”

“Jin Minsheng, you were the first to sense that this world was changing. Even now, many scientists have detected shifts in the environment, but they all attempt to explain the abnormal climate and rising sea levels through science.”

“But you, while not a scientist, are the most vigilant general of your nation. Even in these peaceful times, your borderland upbringing keeps you wary in prosperity. You didn’t dismiss the sudden climate changes like the others did. You were the first to suggest that some presence had arrived, precipitating these rapid transformations.”

“And you were the first strategist to consider these beings as potential enemies, to disregard public opinion and push for the development of nuclear weapons, proposing the Nuclear Chain plan.”

“Your intuition was correct. We will wage war against entities never before seen in this world.”

“Sadly, you couldn’t foresee just how powerful these beings would be. Conventional weapons—even nuclear arms—would eventually prove useless.”

“These beings are gods. And you were the first five-star golden general to die during the Sea God’s invasion.”

“In the new era, the World Alliance named you the Doomsday Bellringer. Unfortunately, in the beginning, few heeded your foresight and warnings.”

“That’s why I came to you first.”

Lin Fan spoke calmly, his words laced with deep respect for the old man.

For in that previous life, this old man’s name was forever etched in the hearts of all in the Grand Xia.

The Doomsday Bellringer.

Jin Minsheng.

Lin Fan still remembered: when the Sea God descended upon the Grand Xia, stirring hundred-meter waves and sending forth an army of sea beasts and believers, it was this old man who stood on the coastline, greeting so-called gods with gunfire and cannon.

He was the first in recorded history to dare raise firearms against the divine.

And his famous words continued to inspire humanity in the new era:

“With guns and cannon, we welcome the gods!”

He even trained the only human war god—Situ Hong.

Lin Fan himself had joined the allied forces one week after the Sea God’s invasion, fighting alongside Jin Minsheng until the bitter end, watching helplessly as the old man was devoured by the sea beast thralls.

Not until the very end did the old man loosen his grip on the trigger; his furious roars and gunfire were drowned out only by the tide of beasts.

Hearing these outlandish words, Old Jin scrutinized Lin Fan. His shrewd eyes saw only sincerity—and a hidden trace of sorrow.

This…

“What you say—is it true?” Old Jin’s brow furrowed.

While others attributed environmental changes to the greenhouse effect, Old Jin harbored a radical thought: what if this so-called greenhouse effect was merely a form of attack?

Such an attack, in theory, could not be wielded by humans. And even if it could, no one would use it, for it would harm all mankind.

But what if our enemy wasn’t human?

Old Jin had never voiced this thought to anyone. At times, he wondered if his mind had been warped by years of gunfire and war, always connecting everything back to conflict. But now…

Listening to Lin Fan’s incredible words, Old Jin found himself believing, rather than doubting.

“I can prove it,” Lin Fan said softly. “But would proof really matter to you?”

“I know, with your authority, you’re second to none in Luzhou. If you set your mind to something, even the governor couldn’t stop you.”

“But if the enemy truly are gods—in the literal sense—can humanity survive relying on Luzhou’s strength alone? Or do you wish only for Luzhou’s people to survive?”

“These gods are nothing like the myths. They crave the land and life of this world.”

Old Jin was silent for a moment, a flash of resolve in his eyes. “What do you intend to do?”

“I must see the National Chair!” Lin Fan declared gravely. “In three months, the gods will descend! Only if the entire Grand Xia gives its all does humanity have even a sliver of hope!”

“And only by proving this to the National Chair will it truly matter!”

“Trust me,” Lin Fan’s eyes were bloodshot, his fists clenching tight. “I have seen far worse. I have seen millions displaced, rivers and mountains dyed red with blood.”

“I have seen nations on the brink, countries consumed by ruin. I have seen people across the globe kneel to the descending gods, surrender their souls, and become mindless puppets singing praises to the divine.”

“I do not wish to witness it a second time!”

“By six o’clock tomorrow morning, I must see the National Chair!”

Old Jin’s expression grew solemn. “You call yourself the god of the future—who are you, truly?”

Lin Fan answered, his voice steady, “I am Lin Fan, future leader of the five Guardian Gods of Grand Xia, Supreme Commander of the Asian Alliance, Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Xia Allied Forces, Six-Star Holy General, War God of Grand Xia appointed by the National Chair, Godslayer of the human race—Asura God.”

“There are other, less favorable names as well. The One Spurned by the Gods, the Bane of Divinity, Exile of Gods and Demons. But those are unimportant.”

Old Jin gave a bitter laugh. “Quite the list of titles. No wonder you weren’t intimidated by me, you little brat—Six-Star Holy General, War God of Grand Xia… Do I have to salute you from now on?”

“No need. By the time I made a name for myself, you were already dead. In your life, I was your final bodyguard,” Lin Fan replied earnestly.

Old Jin was momentarily speechless. He rubbed his face. “I must be mad, believing you and willing to gamble on your word.”

Lin Fan breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re not mad. It’s the world that’s lost its mind.”

“But,” Old Jin’s tone hardened, “a prophecy may convince me, but seeing the National Chair isn’t so simple. You must provide evidence that gods truly exist, or else I’d be making a fool of myself.”

Lin Fan nodded. “That’s why I asked to see the Chair at six tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, I need you to do a few other things…”

At four thirty in the morning, a military plane took off from Luzhou’s military district.

Twelve fighter jets escorted it.

Destination—Capital Prefecture.

Such a lavish escort was reserved for national elders even in wartime, which showed just how much Old Jin valued Lin Fan.

At five thirty, the fighter squadron landed at the military airport in the capital. Ten unmarked, jet-black SUVs were already waiting.

Each vehicle was custom-made, armored with twenty-millimeter steel plating, triple-layered bulletproof glass, and reinforced with anti-explosion chassis—mobile fortresses capable of withstanding rifle fire and even heavy bombardment.

Again, the treatment of a national elder.

As soon as they landed, Lin Fan rushed to the Central Institute.

“Young man,” the driver, a special service officer, glanced at Lin Fan curiously. Usually, he ferried only the wealthy or powerful, but this was the first time he’d seen such a young boy. He couldn’t help but ask, “What do you do?”

Lin Fan’s smile was complicated. “I’m here to teach you how to kill gods.”

The driver started, but Old Jin, sitting beside him, barked sternly, “Don’t ask what you shouldn’t. Have you forgotten your confidentiality oath?”

A lifetime of command radiated from the old man, and the driver instantly composed himself.

He’d thought the boy was joking, but seeing Old Jin so grim—could there really be gods?

And if so, would humanity have to kill them?

A surge of wild resolve welled up in the heart of the military man, and an almost mad grin crept across his face.

Kill gods!

He knew nothing of strategy or command.

But—

If there is war, I will answer the call!

If gods dare invade Grand Xia, then so be it—let’s kill gods!

Southern Capital, Central Institute.

Even with Old Jin personally escorting Lin Fan, they had to pass layer upon layer of security before Lin Fan was led into a secluded courtyard.

The first thing he saw was a red wooden desk, behind which hung a grand landscape painting of the nation’s rivers and mountains—majestic and imposing.

The national flag of Grand Xia stood at the side, a blaze of passionate red.

Behind the desk, an elderly man scanned documents with calm composure, exuding a steady, immovable presence, as if he were a mountain or a deep and bottomless sea.

This was today’s National Chair of Grand Xia.

Lin Fan looked at the man before him, and a profound respect welled up from his heart.

In his previous life, while countless nations were shattered and their people knelt to the descending gods, becoming their thralls and singing their praises, only Grand Xia, under this man’s leadership, endured to the last, becoming humanity’s final hope.

When the gods descended and storms raged, some wept, some cowered, some sought shelter. Only Grand Xia refused to flee the storm, choosing rather to sing and die in the rain than live as vassals.

“Surrender,” the tempters said. “Better to kneel and live in the embrace of the gods than to die.”

“Bow,” they coaxed. “Is survival not enough?”

Time and again, the old man faced such seductions.

But his answer was always resolute:

“Grand Xia, five thousand years—Qin and Han emperors forged these mountains and rivers!”

“Countless sages and scholars left us a legacy of brilliance!”

“Shall a few words from so-called gods frighten us into abandoning our ancestors? Are we still human then?”

“A hundred years of war and struggle have taught us to stand tall—how can we kneel again?”

“We have nothing but the backbone passed down by our forebears. The people of Grand Xia kneel to heaven, to earth, and to their ancestors—never to gods!”

“Only battle to the death!”

And so, the Son of Heaven guarded the gates of the nation.

From top to bottom, Grand Xia fought to the last.

With mortal flesh, they defied the gods.

This old man was the undisputed Sovereign of Humanity.

The name Zhang Maoyuan, in those days, became the soul of Grand Xia.

Indeed, on the death god’s roster, his name was first—even before Lin Fan’s.

On the sofa in the office sat several others.

The Chief Advisory Council of Grand Xia.

Lin Fan’s gaze lingered on an elderly man with golden-rimmed glasses and silver hair. Though aged, his eyes were as deep and steady as the starry sky—possessed of a rare calm and profound wisdom.

This was Chen Yan, Chief Scientist of Grand Xia.

He was the one who guided the combat mecha project, helping Grand Xia through its early crises and buying precious time.

He was, in the end, one of the few who became a god in flesh—awakening the godhood of Wisdom, forging the racial secret of divinity, and ultimately deducing the cultivation law that allowed humanity to ascend as gods.

That law could have changed everything.

But it came too late.

“You’re here?” The old man’s voice interrupted Lin Fan’s reverie.

The National Chair set down his pen and looked up at Lin Fan, surprise flickering in his gaze.

He had met countless prodigies and young talents, but never expected that the one Old Jin had summoned in the dead of night would be this teenage boy—surely still in high school.

“Lin Fan, Junior Class 3, Second Year, Jizhou First High School, reporting to the National Chair!”

Lin Fan stood straight as a spear and saluted with military precision.

A killing aura not befitting a youth radiated from him.

“Very well.” The National Chair wasted no words. “Old Jin said you insisted on seeing me, that you have a matter concerning the survival of the nation to report.”

“What is it?”

Lin Fan exhaled.

His measured voice echoed in the office.

“In three months, the gods will descend.”

“Mountains and rivers will be broken. The nation will fall.”