Chapter 113: Great Harvests from Playing the Charlatan

"I am guilty, O omniscient Father, O merciful Son. It was a moment of greed; I once doubted the truth of Your existence, and jealousy blinded me with ignorance. I even sought to test Your divine power..."

Amidst the disbelief and astonishment of the crowd, the sixty-year-old Archbishop prostrated himself on the ground, confessing the reasons for his actions with pathetic, remorseful sobs.

Combining this with what Li Lekang already knew, he realized the betrayal stemmed from the Archbishop’s doubts after meeting the "foolish boy." Fearing that the boy's reckless behavior would disrupt the established hierarchy of the church, the Archbishop had ordered his henchmen to poison the boy’s food.

The boy had indeed fallen ill from food poisoning, and the Archbishop might have gotten away with it, but the events of this day had shattered all reason. Upon hearing Li Lekang’s words, he no longer had the courage to maintain the charade.

He knelt, wailing uncontrollably. He did not want to be remembered as a villain for all eternity, nor did he wish to be compared to Judas Iscariot. Driven by the need to vent his overwhelming fear, he spilled every detail of his wicked intent. In the end, he collapsed in a faint, overcome by the intensity of his emotions.

The crowd felt as though too many shocking things had happened in a single day. No one had expected that this benevolent-looking Archbishop would dare to poison the Son of God.

Sterl felt that even someone as seasoned as himself could not remain composed. He had collaborated with Mendes on many projects, and Mendes had even provided generous support for organizing their events. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that the mastermind behind the betrayal was him.

Stabbed in the back by a friend, Sterl wanted to demand why, but he quickly realized it was a naive question. On the path to power, there are no friends. When positions are equal and interests align, you might be friends, but when you seek to rise higher and tower over others, the human heart changes.

Thus, Sterl felt no pity for his old friend. In a different scenario, he knew the man would show him no mercy either, so it was better to strike first. Now, like everyone else, Sterl looked toward the God on the dais, awaiting his judgment.

This interval gave Li Lekang time to think of a way to make his exit. He knew that the more he spoke, the harder it would be for the "Messiah" persona to maintain continuity later. He racked his brain and devised a suitable method.

He used telepathy, his lips remaining still, yet his voice echoed in the ears of all present. He left them with four final sentences:

"The affairs of the mortal world must be settled within the mortal world."
"I tell you truly: I am returning to Paradise!"
"My bloodline shall be entrusted to you!"
"It is finished!"

As his voice faded, Li Lekang’s image froze.

The crowd held their breath; the silence in the hall was absolute. Suddenly, a breeze blew, and his image, like mist caught in the wind, dissipated into thin air before their eyes.

This display of power, far beyond their comprehension, left the three thousand saints prostrate on the ground, reciting prayers in unison. They said their farewells to the Divine, some weeping, others chanting. The lingering echoes resonated through the hall and throughout the estate. The extraordinary display by Li Lekang left them stunned for a long time.

It was a day they would never forget. Three thousand saints witnessed it in person, and five hundred thousand viewers watched it live. The broadcast had no deceptive camera angles or changes in perspective; it was filmed from multiple fixed positions, like high-definition surveillance, broadcasting in real-time from every angle.

Because of this, the authenticity was off the charts. Viewers could choose any angle they were curious about, and the scene presented was nothing short of reality-defying. Before this day, many saints might have held some skepticism regarding the existence of the divine, but after today, the worldview of the vast majority would surely be torn down and rebuilt.

Although the moment was brief—the Divine descending only to return to Heaven—everyone, including those watching on television, regardless of age or gender, knelt to pray to God.

...

After the performance at the church, Li Lekang teleported back to his room. He immediately felt a wave of mental exhaustion and emptiness. The magical exertion had been too intense. He pulled out the "Soul Beans" he had prepared beforehand, chewed several, and worked to restore his depleted mana.

He walked to the window and looked outside. The heavy rain had quietly stopped, and the evening glow began to appear on the horizon, though everything outside was silent.

He pondered the religious fanatics—they must be in deep shock right now, their worldviews likely shattered. Li Lekang didn't want to get involved in the commotion; he would give them time to digest it. After all, he had perfectly executed the charade of divinity.

He wondered what kind of changes this would bring. He was already looking forward to the feedback from the audience of his "limitless" performance.

Among the series of paradigm-shifting events that day, the most sensational and shocking for the followers was the return of the Divine to the mortal world and the display of supreme power. That afternoon, hundreds of thousands of followers watched the live stream. Even after the broadcast ended, the footage was played on a loop.

They watched the entire process with great patience and piety. Starting from the Divine walking across the water, the high-definition cameras had captured the scene in its entirety. A careful observer would notice that his strides exceeded the distance of an ordinary man.

This was actually similar to the Taoist technique of "shrinking the earth into an inch," a move Li Lekang used to slap the faces of those who suspected his methods were mere "magic tricks like Li Lekang's." The followers noticed this, too. That magician, Li Lekang, might have been able to simulate walking on water, but could he stride a dozen meters like the Divine?

This single scene was enough to convince the believers. Then, as He walked through the air, accepting their worship with a halo above His head, they were left trembling in awe.

The sudden downpour had drenched the three thousand followers, but the next scene made them all drop what they were doing. The rain in the sky was blocked, not falling on their heads, but flying back up in an incredible display. The power to summon wind and rain belongs only to God.

It was there that the followers began to abandon their work en masse, focusing on the glory of witnessing a miracle; some had already begun to pray. From that point on, no one doubted. The continuous manifestation of divine power added weight to their faith until it became unshakable.

As for the Divine’s instructions, they felt honored; for His will, they fulfilled it resolutely—He had pointed out the traitor in their organization, Francis Mendes. Regardless of how prestigious or beloved he had been, he had committed the most unforgivable sin. He deserved to die; that they didn't burn him at the stake was already an act of mercy.

They also recorded the four final sentences left by the Divine, which would be written into the organization's scriptures and passed down to be studied forever.

And so, through a series of coincidences, Li Lekang became the God of the Saints, leaving behind an "adopted" son who actually called him "Father." Li Lekang found the whole thing rather bizarre.

However, the most significant gain from all this was his fan count. Through his contract with the "foolish boy," faith would be concentrated on him even more. In just one night, the Spirit of the Scroll calculated an increase of 400,000 fans, jumping from 500,000 to 900,000. The rate of accumulation toward becoming a Level 3 Mage had nearly doubled.

The piety of these followers truly surprised him, though he shouldn't have been surprised—his performance had moved them to tears. The Saints were different from mainstream religions; they were few in number but high in quality, nurtured from childhood. Li Lekang’s performance had directly translated their past persistence and speculations into reality.

The qualitative leap from such accumulation triggered an explosion—a gain of 400,000 in one night! Even as a superstar magician, he could never achieve such a terrifying influx in a single day.

It turns out that being a "con artist" for God is quite profitable indeed.