Westminster Bank

"Blood God Aisley is a son of a bitch!"

The moment he shouted, the expression on Vivian’s face changed. She said, "You... you dare speak an Ancient God’s name directly! He is the supreme being who controls the Blood Law... How dare you!"

’Not only will I say his name, I’m going to curse him into oblivion.’

Baron sneered and shouted, "May Blood God Aisley’s sons be born without assholes!"

"You’re insane." Vivian’s expression was one of utter disbelief, as if she were watching a condemned prisoner walk smiling to his own execution.

The shaking of the door intensified. The Knights who had arrived this time were clearly of a much higher Tier than the last, and the Alchemy Array carved into the door had either dimmed or shattered.

Amid the tremors, Vivian stared blankly as the young man buried the Old God of the Blood Law, Blood God Aisley, under a torrent of profanity the likes of which she had never heard in her entire life.

She gritted her teeth, concluding that Baron’s words were merely the nonsensical ramblings of a cornered man. So what if he cursed the Blood God? At most, the Blood Law on his body would inflict some punishment upon his death. It wasn’t as if he could actually draw the gaze of an Ancient God, could he?

With that, she continued to accelerate the process of refining him into a Blood Servant, the blood advancing toward his heart.

’Wait, why isn’t that old bastard, the Blood God, showing up yet? Is it because we’re in Prole, and it’s cut off from the other planes? An Old God has this little pull?’ Baron was starting to panic.

He had been panicking before, of course, but that panic was about how the Blood God would make him pay for cursing him so viciously.

Now, he was panicking because he had cursed the Blood God so viciously, and the god *hadn’t* shown up to make him pay.

Such is human nature: to weigh the pros and cons when success is within reach, and to fret over gains and losses when it is not.

Baron used his Spiritual Vision to look inside his body. Vivian’s blood was surging through his arteries and into his heart. He could feel that in less than ten breaths, he might truly become her Blood Servant.

The Gentiana Pattern Ring in his pocket flashed, and a playing card appeared in his hand. He took a deep breath, resolving that if this next curse didn’t work, he would escape into a dream, even if the price was exhausting his Spiritual Power and burning his soul.

And so he spoke again, uttering a profanity that made Vivian’s pupils dilate.

In his past life, this particular line had once been devastatingly effective at tilting countless forum trolls. In this world, therefore, it was the equivalent of a tactical nuke.

Sure enough, in the instant Vivian’s blood passed completely through his heart, the world in Baron’s eyes slowed down.

The flickering candlelight, the curtains swaying in the wind, the blood still dripping from the wound on his shoulder, the sound of the Knights blasting the door from outside... Everything slowed to a crawl.

Except for Vivian, whose dumbfounded expression was actually somewhat cute.

She looked around in a panic and asked in a shrill voice, "What have you done...? This is... a Divine Descent!"

She seemed unable to believe it. Her massive wings thrashed wildly about the space like a moth’s, yet the gales they created failed to stir a single object in the room. It was as if everything had been frozen in another world, like a falling leaf and a cicada with wings outstretched, trapped in amber.

If Vivian had been suspicious before, she was now completely certain. She practically shrieked, though the shriek, combined with her childish voice, sounded rather adorably silly:

"How could you attract the gaze of an Ancient God just by cursing him! And even... even provoke a Divine Descent!"

’It’s because these Old Gods and Ancient Gods are all petty as hell,’ Baron thought. ’No one dares to curse them behind their backs. So when someone finally does, and goes all out, of course it’s going to get their attention. Isn’t that normal?’

Baron figured that if he were a petty Ancient God, he might even come down personally to get into a shouting match with the guy.

The thought had barely formed when a voice like the tolling of a great bronze bell echoed in his ears: "He who insults My name..."

He had only heard the first word before he collapsed to his knees, his head splitting open. It felt like a thousand screwdrivers were twisting into his brain as if it were a screw. The pain was so intense that for a moment, he—who had always considered himself strong-willed—actually thought that even Hell couldn’t be this bad.

The Blood Eye of the Blood Faction uncontrollably replaced his Golden Eye. Veins pulsed like snakes across his cheeks from the excruciating pain. He thought that if he had a tail right now, he’d be just like Sun Wukong, thrashing on the ground, clutching the Golden Cuff on his head and begging his master to stop the damned chanting.

Compared to the punishment he’d received from the Dream Master that morning in London City for almost revealing the existence of the dreamscape, Baron felt this pain was even more... invigorating. It was probably because this version had an added bloody flavor.

He clutched his head, his body curled up like a shrimp, his fingers digging fiercely through the Persian Velvet carpet and into the marble floor beneath. It made him look like a dying old wolf, honing its Sharp Claws for one final hunt.

Vivian watched this scene, alarmed and uncertain. She took an involuntary step back, but the moment she saw those eyes—as red as a sea of blood—she dropped to her knees with a THUD, prostrating herself uncontrollably.

It was a fear that came from her very bloodline, the same fear a young cub feels when it first lays eyes on the Wolf King. Her voice trembled as she spoke:

"My lord of blood and perfection!"

’Wait, Blood God, are you for real? I just needed you to make a token appearance like you did at the altar of the Immortal Church. Was all this really necessary...?’

As Baron’s head felt ready to split open, unable to struggle as fear flooded his heart like a bursting dam, he thought, ’I haven’t completely lost control of this situation, have I?’