The Emperor’s Angel of Death

“I want to see just how strong the Flayed Dynasty is. If it’s usable...”

Remember the first website domain 𝕥𝕨𝕜𝕒𝕟.𝕔𝕠𝕞

Staring at this monster army, Sotha’s thoughts drifted elsewhere.

“Perhaps in the future it will become an ace in the hole that even the false Macardo cannot know about, playing a role at a crucial moment. Also, the Flayer Shrine seems to really be able to steal the power of other Star Gods. If I operate in the form of a Flayer, can I avoid all surveillance? This might be a direction worth considering, but will the Flayers have any adverse effects on me?”

The image of himself sitting on the Flayed Throne before was still deeply imprinted in Sotha's mind.

Unable to think of any results for the time being, Sotha leaped up, transforming into a red mist, and quickly expanded, eventually turning into a blood-red avatar of a god with four pairs of blood wings covering the sky, flowing with blood-colored starlight, and eight arms with serrated blade claws. He swooped down, passing over the heads of the marching Flayer army.

At that moment, all the Flayers raised their heads in unison, opened their mandibles, and scarlet blood mist spewed out from their mouths and eye sockets, converging into a unified roar—

Llandu Gor!

Then, the speed of the Flayers instantly changed from the slow, zombie-like pace to the swiftness of wild beasts, running on all fours.

On the already fallen Venoshi IV, a big day was about to arrive for the Black Rye Cult.

The footsteps carrying happiness were slow but extremely firm, and the wonderful moment of ascension was coming. Even Matting, an action captain with a relatively low position in the cult, could feel the Great Sage's promise and instructions from his pulse.

In this occupied city, a huge podium was erected, and tens of thousands of people gathered around, without any noise or chatter, everyone standing perfectly in their proper place.

The cult was accustomed to this quiet gathering, and everyone remained silent even when the Great Sage took the stage.

In the cloudy sky above the city, some huge and distorted shadows were faintly visible.

“The day of ascension has arrived, we will open our arms to welcome the messengers of the Star Emperor!”

While listening to the Great Sage's prayer, Matting carefully listened to the elegant echoes from the void. He and his family had been listening to the words of the distant Star Emperor for too long in this cruel world.

In this world, there are basically only three types of people: priests, landlords, and slaves, with the former two accounting for less than 1% and the latter accounting for nearly 99% of the population.

From the moment they were born, they were burdened with heavy debts, which might have been owed by their ancestors for more than a dozen generations, but under the landlords' crazy compound interest, it became an unpayable burden, which in turn evolved into shackles.

From then on, their fate was sealed, and they would be bound to that farmland for the rest of their lives. Except for the most important Emperor's Ascension Day, they had to work all year round and bear other obligations, such as corvée and hard labor. What they could get was only the least and worst food, but what was even more despairing was more than that. If they had a partner and wanted to marry, they also needed to pay a marriage tax to the landlord, but poor serfs often could not afford such a fee, so they could only borrow from the foreman, and the price was that their wives would also become the foreman's wives—the foreman had the right to ravage their wives like prostitutes.

This dark custom was also known as wife-sharing.

All of this was completely invisible to the priests sitting in the church chanting “The Emperor loves the world.” They rarely appeared in front of the serfs, usually only when they came to collect religious tithes.

Under such cruel, humiliating, and desperate exploitation, there was no resistance, but the serfs were too scattered and too weak. The landlords' bodyguards were not only well-equipped, but they also had support from the sky. Although they were just some old and broken aircraft, they were also something that the serfs with only hoes and sickles could not resist.

More importantly, the priests kept emphasizing that resistance was rebellion, was a betrayal of the Emperor's light, and that everything they suffered was just a test. When they died, it meant that they had passed the test and would have a place in the Emperor's kingdom.

Under the dual pressure of physics and spirit, all resistance eventually became just whimpers in the dark, until its arrival.

It was revered by the believers as the Holy Lord, the messenger of the Star Emperor. It told people that what the priests said was actually a false idol used to deceive people into being willing to accept their fate. The real Emperor would never allow any slavery or oppression.

Thus, the Black Rye Cult was born. The reason why they chose black wheat that had been burned by fire as their banner was to represent their will to fight against the oppressors.

After more than ten generations of dedication, sacrifice, and protection, the Black Rye Cult gradually grew in this theocratic country, which was outwardly bright and sacred but inwardly decadent. Then, the pure angel born from the Holy Lord's direct bloodline accelerated the rise of this secret cult, until they grew to the point where they could be noticed by the Star Emperor.

Under the slogan of resisting oppression, pain, and exploitation, tens of thousands of serfs voluntarily began to accept the sacred transformation. Not only these people, but also wanderers who had lost their homes, bodyguards and thugs who frequented brothels, and even priests in inconspicuous small churches, gradually became members of the cult.

Some people were even willing to fight for the Holy Lord without being transformed.

After the cult accumulated a certain amount of power, small-scale actions began to occur, starting with the elimination of vicious foremen, gradually turning from sporadic revenge to large-scale blatant killings.

Thousands of years of accumulated hatred forged terrifying weapons, and the oppressors' whips became their own nooses, and the henchmen were drowned in their own blood.

However, the cult has been trying to control the scale of the actions to prevent premature exposure from attracting strikes from outside the void.

Until the Holy Lord felt the signal of the day of ascension, the real war of uprising was launched.

The Black Rye Cult organized thirty-six troops, in units of shares, each containing more than one million believers, to deal with the thirty-six administrative divisions on the planet respectively. First, they launched repeated attacks on military strongholds and warehouses. Because the weapons were so simple that they only had sharpened wooden sticks and peasant troops, thousands of people of all ethnic groups were sacrificed in the battle, but the cults also seized some real military supplies and absorbed a group of more militarily experienced members.

Matting joined the cult at this time. In the past, he was just a member of the local security regiment. Although he had this status, it did not mean that his life was good. In fact, his childhood was very tragic. His parents both died in a small-scale famine deliberately created by the landlord to "control the population." He, nearly seven years old, followed the fleeing crowd for two years before he went to a distant relative. In this process, he ate everything to survive, even dead people's meat. Even after he went to his relatives, they only used him as a servant.