Round Up or Perish: Torment of the Vengeful Deity?

The Wrath of the False God

"ROAR!!!"

A furious howl tore through the air, summoning howling tempests. A tide of ghostly malevolence surged forth, drowning the world in an all-consuming darkness. From within the seething abyss, countless twisted, grotesque faces began to emerge. Some were blank and numb, others contorted in agony, malice, or eerie laughter…

Each face bore the imprint of a soul—human or ghost—devoured and corrupted by the shrine. The sheer number of these spectral visages was immeasurable, stretching endlessly across the smothering gloom.

The god-statue trembled, its wrath ignited by Yi Bai's dismissive stance. It was not the god itself, yet it had been forged by its divine hands, imbued with a fragment of its will—a high-tier shrine, brimming with sacred authority. To it, humans, ghosts, and even the vampire standing before it were nothing more than vermin.

Yet today, a mere insect dared to mock it? To defy its divinity?

Unforgivable. It would show this insolent creature the true meaning of divine wrath.

A chilling wind howled as the eerie faces exuded pure, undiluted malice. That malice coalesced into a crimson curse—a binding incantation of despair, surging toward Yi Bai like shackles of fate.

But he remained unmoved.

"I already told you… This is my world. You? You're nothing more than a slightly larger bug."

With a casual flick of his wrist, the curse shattered into nothingness. His gaze sharpened, and in an instant, the suffocating darkness fractured, scattering like shattered glass.

The shrine had been forcefully suppressed to the level of a Red-Clad specter, while Yi Bai stood unrestrained—his power unbridled. The outcome was already decided.

"Bind."

With a single utterance, countless chains erupted from the void, ensnaring the statue midair, locking it in place.

"Your creator already enjoyed the bliss of a fourfold demise. Compared to that, you are nothing."

A wicked grin curled Yi Bai's lips.

Four arms, crafted from pure, flowing blood, emerged from the void, circling him like specters of torment.

A high-tier shrine, infused with the will of a malevolent god…

If he rounded up a little, didn't that mean he was torturing the god itself?

And if he rounded up just a little more… wouldn't that mean he was personally tormenting the embodiment of its greed?

"This gift—hope you enjoy it."

"#%&*#%**&… (Vermin… little vampire… I shall grant you a chance—a chance to become like me. The mortal world is a perfect hunting ground… Why waste—)"

The god-statue faltered. It had recognized the blood-forged hands.

The infamous Hands of Agonizing Pain.

It abandoned its wrath and turned to persuasion, its voice laced with temptation, seeking to awaken greed in Yi Bai's heart.

It had no choice. It could not fight back. The prospect of being humiliated, tormented by a mere insect, was too much to bear.

But before it could weave its deceit—

"WUAAAAHHHHH!!!""NRRRGHHH!!!""GUUAAAAHHH!!!"

The grotesque mouths carved into the statue convulsed violently, shrieking in agony.

The air filled with the discordant symphony of suffering.

"Interesting… The Hands of Agonizing Pain seem even more potent after my fourfold transformation," Yi Bai mused, studying his own power. "No, it's not the power that's grown—it's the torment itself."

The shrine would not die. The blood-forged hands lacked the raw strength to truly destroy it.

But pain? Pain was something else entirely.

Even a god… wasn't immune to suffering.

Even its creations… feared endless torment.

"Take your time. I'll be back after I deal with the outside world."

Amidst the wailing echoes of despair, Yi Bai vanished.

"Master Cheng!"

The moment Yi Bai reappeared in the ruins of Shenkan City, Qi Yi and the others rushed toward him, their faces drained of color.

The city had become a slaughterhouse—a grinding wheel of flesh and blood. Thousands had perished in an unholy ritual.

The stench of death was so thick it had turned to mist.

For a moment, silence hung between them.

"The suffering of Shenkan City has ended," Yi Bai finally said, his gaze sweeping across the ruined streets. "But the survivors… will never return to what they once were."

Qi Yi and the others visibly darkened.

Survival did not mean salvation. If their humanity had already been stripped away, what remained of them?

"Master Cheng… may I ask something?"

Qi Yi hesitated, then spoke, his voice low, almost pleading.

"Go ahead," Yi Bai answered. He had already decided—most of their memories would be erased after this conversation.

"The tragedy of Shenkan City… Was it caused by humans? Or…"

"Rest assured," Yi Bai replied evenly. "No human, no matter how devout, could achieve this."

He left one thought unspoken.

…Except for me.

"Thank you," Qi Yi bowed solemnly.

"The Shadow Specter has brought your people. Shenkan City's fate is in the hands of the Palace of Suppression now."

"My task is done. The rest is yours to handle."

Snap.

A crisp sound echoed through the ruined city.

Qi Yi and the others stiffened momentarily.

When their senses returned, Yi Bai was gone.

"…Is it over?""Wait… How was it resolved?""Why are we here? And where did Master Cheng's specter go?"

One question after another surfaced in their minds.

But the most crucial memory—the arrival of the god-statue—had been erased.