Little Garden 306-310

Title: How Did Aslan Get Enlightened?

City of End, Arcadia Headquarters.

The sky, blazing under the scorching sun, suddenly shone with a brilliant golden glow.

A hundred-meter-tall golden Buddha appeared in the air, hands forming a mudra (turning a flower), smiling as he looked down at the Arcadia headquarters below.

“Benefactor Aslan, would you come out to meet?”

A rumbling voice, like muffled thunder, exploded in the ears of everyone in the City of End.

Many even fell in pain, faces twisted, screaming.

“Hmph, is this how Buddha’s people meet me?”

Aslan snorted coldly. In front of the hundred-meter golden Buddha, his figure projected, standing at the same height.

No—Aslan was slightly taller. He projected himself sitting on a sofa in a superior position, receiving the Buddha’s arrival.

His figure was vaguely larger than the visitor, his aura naturally stronger.

The golden Buddha looked at Aslan, clasped his hands, and spoke gently.

“This little monk Buddha Dīpaṁkara, pleased to meet you, Benefactor.”

(Buddha Dīpaṁkara?)

Aslan raised an eyebrow, his face slightly odd.

“Dingguang Xian (Immortal of Constant Radiance) from Investiture of the Gods?”

The giant Buddha’s face froze, eyes and brows flashing like lightning.

*CRACK!*

The air exploded.

Aslan ignored the electric scene in the void, staring guiltlessly at Buddha Dīpaṁkara.

(Buddha? Why does this guy’s Demon Spirit Status feel so strong?)

(At a glance, perfect material for demon cultivation. Hmm, good material, suitable.)

(And that Buddha voice earlier, plus the lightning from the void—looking for trouble, right?)

Aslan frowned, with a slight interrogative tone.

“Why is Buddha Dīpaṁkara looking for me?”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara clasped his hands, inwardly chanting Amitabha, then said.

“This little monk wishes to ask Benefactor to reveal someone’s whereabouts.”

“Who?”

The corner of Aslan’s mouth twitched. Algol really guessed perfectly.

Though sealed by Athena for thousands of years, she could still predict Buddha’s actions accurately.

Aslan didn’t know what to say.

He’d even bet with Algol last night.

Hearing this, Buddha Dīpaṁkara immediately said firmly.

“Demon Star – Algol.”

“You sure?”

Aslan asked back, sighing inwardly.

As expected, he’d hoped too much from Buddha.

His relationship with Algol was good—almost everyone knew. After all, not long ago, he and Algol were partying together, even tricking Athena.

But Buddha Dīpaṁkara clearly knew this, yet deliberately came asking him to hand over Algol’s location.

From the moment he arrived in the City of End, this guy used a condescending attitude.

As if Aslan were a novice monk ready for redemption, and he the true Buddha on the lotus throne.

But don’t forget—Aslan just got news from Indra.

Buddha planned to support him as Heavenly Army Lord and Last King (King of the End).

So? Buddha faced him like this?

Indeed, his mistake for hoping in Buddha. He misunderstood them.

He thought Buddha’s idea was Wearing the Yellow Robe (making him Emperor).

But now he saw—they wanted him a puppet on the imperial throne.

As for this being a misunderstanding? Impossible.

He didn’t believe Buddha Dīpaṁkara came without the great Tathāgatas’ approval? Even if personal action, likely silently permitted.

They were just testing if Aslan would kneel and beg.

But sorry—his appetite was poor. He only ate from beautiful girls, lying on their fertile thighs, hand-fed.

Everything else—forget it.

Though Aslan never planned to follow Buddha’s path from the start, being treated like a soft persimmon and stepped on freely was still annoying.

Thinking this, Aslan’s gaze toward Buddha Dīpaṁkara grew unfriendlier.

But first—he’d squeeze them dry.

“Benefactor Aslan, let’s speak frankly. The Demon Star is in your hands, right?”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s face was gentle, but his eyes cold—he was certain Aslan would accept.

“We only need to seal her temporarily. After the Campione War, we’ll return her to you with the seal.”

Honestly, Algol’s beauty was Little Garden’s top. Even he, deep in Dharma, felt the urge to teach and redeem her upon seeing her.

Of course Aslan liked her.

But now Athena had unsealed Algol. Unsealed Algol wouldn’t be so obedient and pretend.

As long as Aslan handed over the Demon Star, they could divine Algol’s traces and reseal her.

Ultimately, Algol’s ownership remained Aslan’s—they were just holding her briefly.

Why not do this mutually beneficial cooperation?

This was why he came. As long as Aslan was wise, he’d lose nothing.

Aslan’s face grew strange, eyes subtly observing, confusing Buddha Dīpaṁkara.

Buddha Dīpaṁkara frowned, looking down at himself. Certain his appearance was first-class golden Buddha body, he asked surprised.

“Benefactor Aslan, what do you mean?”

“The Demon Star is indeed still with me, but what price will you pay, Buddha Dīpaṁkara? If the price fits, it’s not impossible.”

Aslan’s current expression was very subtle.

He found Buddha Dīpaṁkara perfect as a scapegoat. His background could be big or small. At a glance, a Buddha face.

But investigated—he was a fringe nobody noticed.

Buddha Dīpaṁkara belonged to the man-made Buddha lineage.

So-called man-made Buddhas—in ancient China’s Buddha-making movement—were monks with minor fame. After death, made into Buddhas for worship.

How many such Buddhas in Buddha? At least hundreds of thousands, at most millions.

Who knew how many merits they ate in the past? All his!! His merits!!

And Buddha Dīpaṁkara was a relatively famous lineage in Buddha. Before becoming Buddha.

In Taoism, he symbolized offerings to the Moon Goddess—the folk Bunny God.

As for Dingguang Xian in Investiture of the Gods—no need to say.

Typical ungrateful representative.

Aslan had zero psychological pressure tricking him.

Moreover, the other came voluntarily to be tricked.

If he didn’t act now, wouldn’t he seem unwise?

Thinking this, his eyes gradually lit up. He saw Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s mudra.

He lowered his head, dripped a tear, raised it. Eyes red, emotions fluctuating, like seeing kin, he said to Buddha Dīpaṁkara.

“Bodhisattva Dīpaṁkara, are you sure the price is that?”

“What has Benefactor realized?”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara smiled while turning the flower, face gentle and compassionate.

“Hiss~”

Aslan drew a cold breath, unable to help saying loudly.

“Three Authorities? This price… truly generous!!”

(Wait? Something’s wrong!)

Buddha Dīpaṁkara froze, seeing the Demon Star suddenly appear in his palm, eyes blank.

In the air, the hundred-meter golden Buddha’s eyes were empty, as if dreaming.

In fact, he suspected he was dreaming.

Otherwise, when did he discuss Authorities with Aslan? Let alone three?

And since when did the Demon Star transfer to his hand?

Damn! Even sealed Algol’s Demon Star might not sell for three Authorities.

(Your mouth is small, but straight to three Authorities?)

(How does your little brain connect to three Authorities?)

(Damn!)

Buddha Dīpaṁkara lowered his head, seeing his mudra, face slightly twisted.

He seemed to know how Aslan “got enlightened.”

“Alright, when will you pay?”

Aslan’s expression was slightly anxious, looking at Buddha Dīpaṁkara with familiarity.

“And these Authorities—can they be specified?”

(Why is he specifying Authorities? I haven’t said anything…)

Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s face turned green.

“Benefactor Aslan, is there a misunderstanding here?”

“Misunderstanding?”

Aslan’s expression changed, becoming slightly dangerous.

“Wasn’t that Bodhisattva’s meaning? I’ve already handed the Demon Star to you.”

“Goods and payment on the spot. Bodhisattva, don’t tell me you want to…”

(Tch, poor guy. Seeing your golden body and shining Buddha light, I thought you were rich.)

“Benefactor Aslan, how could that be?”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara dismissed his Dharma Buddha body, revealing his true face.

A middle-aged man with neatly combed hair, square face, and very long earlobes.

“It’s just… Benefactor Aslan, this price… is there a slight mistake?”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara smiled bitterly, nervously rubbing his hands, quickly stepping toward Aslan.

“What mistake? This price is perfectly accurate!”

“This information has always been this price for years—Bodhisattva Dīpaṁkara, don’t speak carelessly.”

Aslan’s eyes widened, staring at Buddha Dīpaṁkara.

“Besides, selling Algol—my risk is very high, you know.”

(But I can’t afford it…)

Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s expression was desperate.

He now regretted—regretted acting cheap and making that mudra.

He just learned why ancient Chinese wore wide robes for serious business.

Cruel—truly cruel.

Though not without backing, the point was his backer wasn’t as good as Aslan’s.

If his backer knew he set this price without opening his mouth.

He could consider returning to Taoism—but the point was Taoism no longer existed in Little Garden.

“Benefactor Aslan… no, Your Excellency Aslan, can this price be reduced a little?”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara sadly pulled Aslan’s hand, raising one finger, looking at him hopefully.

Hearing this, Aslan frowned.

(So you know my identity—then why this attitude?)

(Hehe, everyone really wants to step on my head, huh.)

Aslan sneered twice inwardly, but his face softened.

“Fine—fellow Lower Layer earners. I don’t want to make it hard for you. As long as you help me with something, the price can be cut a bit.”

-

Title: Lies Don’t Hurt, Truth Is a Sharp Sword

“What matter?”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s face lit up with joy, as if he’d found a savior, tightly gripping Aslan’s hand.

He feared the other would retract his words the next second and leave him bearing the loss.

“Calm down—it’s a small matter. You just need to help me deliver a message to someone.”

Aslan pulled his hand. Realizing he couldn’t without force, his face soured.

Buddha Dīpaṁkara saw Aslan’s expression, released his hand, and looked at him nervously, with slight anticipation.

“What message? If this little monk can help, please command freely, Your Excellency Aslan. Even if this little monk must risk his life, it’s no issue.”

He showed a spirit of sacrifice, unafraid of danger.

“Oh? Then indeed only you can do it.”

The corner of Aslan’s mouth curved. He pulled Buddha Dīpaṁkara and walked into Arcadia.

He brought him to the VIP lounge, personally brewed a cup of tea for Buddha Dīpaṁkara, and served it before him.

(Benefactor Aslan, treating me so politely—this little monk is a bit scared…)

Buddha Dīpaṁkara saw Aslan hosting him like an honored guest. His heart pounded, constantly anxious.

The tea in his hand looked like poison in his eyes.

He couldn’t be called an honored guest. He knew well he came as an unwelcome one.

“Your Excellency Aslan, give certainty. What exactly do you want this little monk to do? This little monk truly doesn’t deserve such reception from Your Excellency.”

Aslan turned, patting Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s shoulder friendly.

“Relax—you truly deserve this reception. After all, it’s not a difficult matter. Just delivering a message.”

(But the more you say that, the more this little monk fears.)

Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s hand holding the teacup trembled slightly, daring not make another move.

“Drink—why not drink?”

Seeing Buddha Dīpaṁkara only holding the teacup without sipping, Aslan urged with a smile.

“I’ll drink—this little monk will drink now.”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara showed a crying smile. Like drinking poison, he downed the tea in one gulp.

“Your Excellency Aslan, now can you tell this little monk what message you want delivered?”

“Of course, of course.”

Aslan tightly gripped both of Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s hands, saying with an embarrassed face.

“I want you to help deliver a message to Messiah—that in the Campione War, King of the End can descend early through a special method.”

Instantly, Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s eyes widened, then he smiled stiffly. How he regretted having ears right now.

Was this something a little monk like him should know? Let alone deliver to Messiah—Aslan’s most hated Holy Son incarnation?

(Can this little monk still live… ah, no—any chance of reincarnation?)

Due to Buddha’s good relations with Queen Earth (Houtu), though the entire underworld system, Six Paths of Reincarnation, etc., had been taken.

But great Tathāgatas in Buddha still specialized in reincarnation—like the Ksitigarbha lineage, committed to recreating reincarnation.

This was why Tathāgata Buddhas could reincarnate. Otherwise, in other Pantheons, a little monk like him wouldn’t get such a chance.

But for reincarnation, at least something must remain, right? If truly sent to find the Holy Son incarnation—especially Aslan’s most hated.

He definitely wouldn’t have reincarnation chance.

“Your Excellency Aslan, pretend this little monk never heard this news. Pretend this little monk never came. This little monk will shed this body and reincarnate now. Regarding his sarira—consider it an apology to you, how?”

With that, he tried pulling his hand hard but couldn’t escape Aslan’s grip.

Aslan had anticipated Buddha’s body-shedding reincarnation tactic. Perfect scapegoat material—couldn’t be wasted.

“Bodhisattva Dīpaṁkara, why so desperate? This is just an ordinary small matter.”

Aslan tightly gripped Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s hand, saying with slight confusion.

Hearing this, Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s face turned green.

(Small matter? Small for you, but not for this little monk.)

Believe it or not—after telling Messiah, the next second it’d trigger a great war between Christianity and Buddha?

Given Aslan and Messiah’s hatred, Buddha Dīpaṁkara doubted Aslan’s good intentions toward the Holy Son.

Ultimately, Aslan would escape, leaving Buddha bearing all hatred.

He’d bear all blame…

“However, if Buddha Dīpaṁkara truly refuses, forget it.”

Seeing Buddha Dīpaṁkara had drunk all the tea—the hidden Demon Seed of Dao Heart had entered his body—Aslan released his hands.

“Thank you, Your Excellency Aslan.”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara… no, precisely now Demon Dīpaṁkara, clasped his hands and bowed deeply to Aslan.

Due to similar systems, plus Algol’s deep Dharma research, and Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s nature not truly enlightened.

His grand Tathāgata image and power—all supported by his golden body.

Just defiling this golden body and revealing his true form—he’d naturally fall easily into demonhood.

“By the way, Algol—are you really not considering demonizing all of Buddha?”

“Demonizing other Pantheons is too slow.”

Aslan asked Algol inwardly.

“You think I don’t want to? It’s just Algol doesn’t dare.”

Algol’s annoyed voice appeared in Aslan’s mind.

“You think I didn’t when challenging the Three Thousand Worlds? That old monk really isn’t easy to provoke.”

“He… he held that Vajra club and aimed straight at Algol’s beautiful face!!!”

Algol said angrily, gnashing her teeth.

Losing to Sakyamuni—she could endure! But hitting her face, leaving a big bump on her head that didn’t fade for thousands of years—she couldn’t accept at all.

Finally forced to learn Dharma to remove it.

As for now—attacking Spirit Mountain again? Impossible, truly impossible.

She’d rather die outside than step foot on Spirit Mountain.

Hearing this, Aslan couldn’t help laughing.

“Probably you trash-talked again, right?”

After all, Buddha shouldn’t be that petty—deliberately leaving a bump on Algol’s head for thousands of years.

Aslan could guess with a thought—Algol must’ve trash-talked again, mocking the old monk’s hairstyle.

“No need to say it!!”

Algol shouted angrily in Aslan’s mind.

Lies don’t hurt—truth is a sharp sword.

Guessed right by Aslan—even Algol couldn’t hold shame and anger.

But she couldn’t do anything to Aslan—she couldn’t bear to.

Indeed, Algol’s sweet mouth caused trouble back then.

So Algol now reflected. Besides Athena, she never called others ugly again.

Even if she did—not to their face.

“However, back to serious matters. I actually think this is an extraordinary opportunity.”

“You remember what happened in the previous Campione world, right?”

Aslan didn’t dwell on Algol’s past, switching topics.

“The World Honored One’s realm has surpassed Two-Digit level. He should’ve left Little Garden with Great Heavenly Venerable and others back then.”

Now—why was the World Honored One still in Little Garden? Aslan didn’t think current Little Garden benefited the World Honored One.

Rather, more hindrance.

Through Buddha Dīpaṁkara before him, Aslan could guess how many demons and monsters were on Spirit Mountain.

This Spirit Mountain—rather than a Holy Land of Bliss, better called Buddha’s Demon Prison Tower, locking countless redeemed monsters and demons.

In exchange, that Buddha was also enshrined, forced to stay in Little Garden.

But from his feeling toward Buddha—his instinct told him that Buddha also wanted to leave Little Garden with Great Heavenly Venerable and others.

And Algol’s demon fall—for Buddha—was also a test.

Perhaps that Buddha also wanted to know—how many true Buddhas, how many truly enlightened on his Spirit Mountain.

“Algol—interested in trying?”

“Let me think.”

Algol was slightly hesitant too. She knew well—the place truly suitable for completing her Spirit Status was Buddha.

Buddha’s only obstacle for her was the angry big brother holding the Vajra club—physically redeeming others with it on disagreement.

Currently, Aslan and Algol were completely unaware their understanding of Sakyamuni might differ slightly.

After all, in Aslan’s understanding and introductions from those around—Buddha’s impression was compassion, true Buddha.

While Algol—before awakening—was in the dawn era. Sakyamuni back then was completely different from now.

So Algol was very confused—how Sakyamuni turned Buddha into this.

If returning to the past—Buddhas with quality like Buddha Dīpaṁkara—their hairstyles should’ve been smashed like this.

However, this verified Aslan’s idea—certain possibility.

Algol decided—she’d bet with Aslan this time.

At worst—they’d get beaten together again.

“Can try.”

Algol finally nodded, agreeing.

Hearing this, Aslan smiled too, pulling back his thoughts, continuing to observe Demon Dīpaṁkara before him.

“Demon Dīpaṁkara—you don’t want your demonization exposed on Spirit Mountain, right?”

Demon Dīpaṁkara looked down at his body, checked his Spirit Status, showing fear.

He found his current Spirit Status had changed from Buddha to Demon Buddha.

(When…)

-

Title: The Price Isn’t Expensive, Just Fifty Authorities

Regret—nothing but regret.

Regretting why he got greedy and defected from Taoism to Buddha.

Regretting why he didn’t refuse this assigned task, even if it meant offending his boss.

Regretting why he wasn’t more polite when meeting Aslan.

In short—immensely regretful, very, very regretful.

So regretful it couldn’t be more so.

With boundless regret, Demon Dīpaṁkara sighed, donned his kāṣāya robe again, and, escorted by Aslan, left Arcadia.

Indeed, a traitor’s end is to become another’s traitor.

Aslan did nothing to Buddha Dīpaṁkara after he turned demonic. In fact, besides a line he learned from Fusang.

The rest was Demon Dīpaṁkara voluntarily kneeling, begging Aslan to accept him, and willingly becoming Buddha’s traitor.

Of course, he could choose self-death—shedding his body and reincarnating. Besides intercepting his true spirit and erasing memories, Aslan wouldn’t do more.

Aslan would respect Dingguang Xiān as a true man.

But in reality, this guy was utterly useless. Aslan just sat beside sipping tea, silently watching him raise his hand, ready to slap his own head anytime.

For suicide—shedding body and reincarnating.

Yet Aslan finished several cups of tea, and the guy still held that rigid pose for over half an hour.

He couldn’t do it at all—occasionally blinking at Aslan, hoping for persuasion.

Of course, Aslan ignored him.

After all, demonizing an opponent—besides changing his Spirit Status from Buddha to Demon Buddha—had no other effect.

In Little Garden, free will trumped everything. You could seize others’ Spirit Status, forcibly dominate them—but you couldn’t forcibly change their will and thoughts.

Of course, this didn’t mean Little Garden lacked mind-related Authorities. Telepathy, mind-reading, and such weren’t few.

Mind-dependent abilities weren’t few either—like Algol’s Demon Seed of Dao Heart.

But such abilities relied on your own mind’s will—it was your own mind’s manifestation.

Meaning Demon Dīpaṁkara himself was too useless and hesitant to suicide.

He also wanted to pretend innocent like a white lotus and find excuses for his fall.

Finally, seeing Aslan ignore him, he truly panicked. He could only voluntarily kneel as a dog and willingly become a traitor.

Of course, Aslan didn’t mind at all. After all—a self-delivered spy—why not take it?

◆━⊰✧⊱━◆

Outer Gate 7777—also the outer gate managed under Christianity.

Inside the church—or rather, monastery—in a beautiful environment, white tiles and marble everywhere.

In the small, beautiful yet neat and clean courtyard.

A middle-aged man with a bindi between his brows, wearing a kāṣāya and ordinary monk robe, with Buddha-like hairstyle, pushed the door and entered.

Then he saw a man standing by the window, silently praying with a cross necklace on his chest, showing a sincere smile.

“Greetings, Your Excellency Holy Son. This little monk Buddha Dīpaṁkara pays respects.”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara clasped his hands, chanted Amitabha, then bowed to the man.

The young priest didn’t turn but continued gazing at the unchanging clean white wall outside the window, saying.

“What business does Buddha’s people have with me?”

His voice was very magnetic. When spoken, faint holy hymns seemed to echo.

(This effect is even more exaggerated than our golden Buddha bodies. If I had it too… ah, no—this isn’t the time to think this.)

Buddha Dīpaṁkara quickly organized his thoughts and switched to serious matters.

Only the greed in his heart never faded.

The Holy Son, vaguely sensing Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s thoughts, couldn’t help twitching his mouth corners several times.

At the same time, he relaxed slightly toward Buddha Dīpaṁkara. In his understanding, Buddha was indeed like this.

Full of fake Buddhas and true demons—only a few truly acted.

“Your Excellency Holy Son, I have interesting information bought from Shiroyasha here. Interested?”

“Hmm?”

Hearing Shiroyasha’s name, the Holy Son’s mood soured slightly. After all, Aslan’s One Thousand Years of Death stab happened just yesterday.

And Aslan was Shiroyasha’s follower—with quite a close relationship.

As the saying goes—hate the house, hate the rat too. Hard to say Aslan’s actions weren’t approved by Shiroyasha.

This could be called Shiroyasha provoking a god war against him.

If not for the Campione War, he should’ve already fought Shiroyasha outside.

“Your Excellency Holy Son, please calm down, please calm down.”

Instantly, Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s back soaked in cold sweat. The information Aslan asked him to deliver to the Holy Son—he hadn’t even started, yet nearly died.

Since it concerned his life, though extremely reluctant, Buddha Dīpaṁkara could only force himself to continue.

“This little monk was also forced to buy and sell by Aslan and Shiroyasha.”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara said with a slight crying tone.

He too felt wronged. Who’d think just asking for Algol—he’d be forced to sell himself.

And couldn’t even sell at a good price.

Regarding Aslan and Shiroyasha—he couldn’t lack hatred in his heart.

His obedience was only because his life was in Aslan’s hands.

Hearing this, the Holy Son paused. Suddenly feeling shared suffering, his attitude softened greatly.

“Speak—what information?”

“About how to summon King of the End early.”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara said respectfully. If this information wasn’t written on paper and under strictest information control.

He should be kneeling and presenting it now.

Buddha Dīpaṁkara finished—the Holy Son turned, gazing at him with slight excitement in his eyes.

“What information did you just say?”

The Holy Son’s hand gripped Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s like an iron clamp—nearly crushing his golden Buddha body.

“Information on summoning King of the End early.”

The gripped hand hurt nearly breaking. Buddha Dīpaṁkara gritted his teeth, repeating what he just said.

“Hahahaha—young man, you did well.”

After reconfirming the information, the Holy Son’s mood reached extreme joy.

After all, he’d just considered withdrawing from the Campione War or finding a way to kill Aslan.

Aslan’s threat yesterday still had strong deterrent power for him.

He knew his own affairs. He was truly lucky—finding Jesus severely wounded and nearly dead from Dystopia’s beating, heart shattered.

He himself was one of Jesus’ disciples. Jesus almost fully trusted him.

Only after Jesus stopped reacting could he kill him—using his Deception and Betrayal Authorities to trick the Holy Son Spirit Status.

Otherwise—even a sliver of Jesus’ remaining will in the Holy Son Spirit Status was enough to finish him.

Even now—he still feared if any Jesus will remained in the Holy Son Spirit Status?

What if he wasn’t fully dead and possessed him?

The Holy Son Spirit Status shaken by Aslan—partly his inner fear. Even he didn’t believe he was the true Holy Son.

Let alone believe Jesus truly died from his small stab?

This was a near-Two-Digit Little Garden peak expert. The man was miracle’s incarnation—holder of Miracle Authority.

But he, Judas, lacked the Holy Son’s strength. He knew if he truly tangled with those final old folks.

He might not defeat them—despite high Two-Digit experience.

Otherwise—why act like this, even acting first regardless of cost?

Only this last chance was blocked by Aslan.

Nothing more joyous than seeing hope in despair.

Now—he just needed to summon King of the End before Aslan acted, becoming the new King of the End—he could nearly secure half the victory chance.

Need to know—Queen Halloween, just because Arthur became King of the End—her represented faction got no intervention quota.

Though she didn’t need it either.

Laughing briefly, the Holy Son patted Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s shoulder with approving gaze.

“Continue—tell me the conditions needed to summon King of the End early?”

“That… Your Excellency Holy Son…”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara said hesitantly while twisting his hands, tone extremely awkward.

“Can you help this little monk pay the information fee first? Without paying, this little monk truly can’t reveal it.”

“How much is the information fee?”

The Holy Son wasn’t surprised at all—or rather, strange if a man-made Buddha lineage could pay Shiroyasha’s information fee.

Otherwise—why seek him?

Need to know—man-made Buddha lineage was famous for many monks, little porridge.

Hearing this, Buddha Dīpaṁkara carefully extended one hand, opening his palm.

“Five Authorities? The price is still reasonable.”

The Holy Son nodded slightly—even he was a bit surprised—since when was Shiroyasha so generous?

Buddha Dīpaṁkara shook his head, gritted his teeth, and said.

“Fifty Authorities.”

Instantly, the Holy Son laughed in anger—just like Aslan yesterday.

He just smiled looking at Buddha Dīpaṁkara—scaring him, finally yielding.

“Fifty—this is buyout price. If five Authorities—effectiveness is one day only. Tomorrow Thousand Eyes will announce King of the End early summon information and sell it.”

“Of course—buyout for a week, ten Authorities suffice.”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara carefully glanced at the Holy Son, quickly lowering his head again.

-

Title: Just Ten Authorities—He Doesn’t Feel the Least Bit Cheated! Really!

Hearing that, the frightening smile on the Holy Son’s face vanished, replaced by a cold expression.

“They really know how to set a price.”

Fifty Authorities? Did they know the value of a single Authority?

One Authority could create a Four-Digit Outlier incarnation or train a Four-Digit Outlier.

Most Three-Digits couldn’t produce Authorities beyond their primary one.

Currently, such things as Authorities were only surplus—one or two at most—for major Pantheons.

Of course, speaking of slicing off one’s own Authority to separate it—normal people wouldn’t do that unless insane.

Authorities used in transactions were mostly rewoven by Three-Digits based on their own Authorities—spending thousands of years—but the effort and resources weren’t trivial.

Generally, even the Almighty Domain might not sell a single Authority.

These fifty Authorities could bankrupt an ordinary major Pantheon—even selling its Main God.

Though Christianity was wealthy, squandering like this was impossible.

“Are they sure I’ll definitely buy it?”

The Holy Son sneered, gazing toward Arcadia.

In that direction, he seemed to see Aslan and Shiroyasha—Main God and subordinate deity—lying in bed, waiting for him to deliver Authorities.

“Just ten Authorities… I can still afford it.”

The Holy Son said through gritted teeth. After all, he was a Two-Digit. Impossible he couldn’t produce ten Authorities.

If he couldn’t even manage this, he couldn’t imagine what information Aslan, Shiroyasha, and that unknown poet who started the hellish joke would fabricate.

Then, the Holy Son closed his eyes, face dark, separated a wisp of thought, and angrily hurled the ten Authorities like meteors toward Shiroyasha.

Nearly hitting her.

But realizing they were Authorities, Shiroyasha wasn’t angry at all—grinning widely.

“As Aslan said—Authorities really can fall from the sky.”

Hearing that, the Holy Son’s face darkened further. If he could beat Shiroyasha, he’d truly drag her out for an outer-world fight.

When the Holy Son’s thought returned, Buddha Dīpaṁkara beside him hesitated to speak.

“Actually… Your Excellency Holy Son, no need to buy a full week outright. It can be adjusted…”

The Holy Son paid so quickly—even he felt ashamed.

After all, Thousand Eyes was always very humane in selling information. Five Authorities for one-day buyout—then one Authority per day.

Buy five days, get two free.

Only because the Holy Son was too angry and lost reason did he overlook this.

The moment those words left his mouth, the air fell silent.

The Holy Son had never wanted to tear someone’s mouth off like now.

This mouth—sanctified by Buddha—wasn’t it a bit too poisonous?

He stared at Buddha Dīpaṁkara, gnashing teeth, saying word by word.

“Can’t I have money? Can’t there be a little more error margin over seven days?”

(Just ten Authorities—I don’t feel cheated at all! Really—not the least bit cheated…)

“Yes, yes—of course Your Excellency Holy Son can.”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara nodded like a pecking chicken.

Instinct told him the Holy Son was on the brink of collapse. One more mistake—

The Holy Son before him would truly disregard Buddha’s reputation—tear him apart and swallow him alive.

Then, Buddha Dīpaṁkara began explaining the information on summoning King of the End early.

“I’m sure Your Excellency Holy Son knows this Campione War’s cause was Queen Halloween’s Knight, King Arthur, observing a world called Campione while scouting others.”

“And in that world, he became King of the End—triggering a Historical Transition Period and returning to Little Garden.”

“But that world’s coordinates were bought outright by Thousand Eyes—or rather, to avoid chaos, both Excellencies intervened.”

“Meaning Campione, Heretic Gods, King of the End, and Dark Christmas Season all originate from that world.”

“And the method to awaken King of the End was also found there.”

“In that world, King of the End was granted a weapon called the Divine Sword of Salvation by gods and fate. It’s a collection of countless weapons the Savior obtained from heavenly gods while saving the world and exterminating Devil Kings.”

“Clearly, in Little Garden, this possibility isn’t fully realized. King Arthur should only have all Celtic Pantheon weapons in hand.”

“So—as long as Your Excellency Holy Son sacrifices Christian artifact weapons to forge the Divine Sword of Salvation—you can awaken King of the End and fill his weapon deficiency.”

After hearing Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s information, the Holy Son sat, tapping the table in a certain rhythm, lost in thought.

In fact, since that non-rumor rumor—spread by who-knows-who—his position in Christianity wasn’t very stable.

Current Christianity was no longer his absolute domain.

Even requesting Christianity offer all artifact weapons—though just summonable concepts—was somewhat difficult.

While thinking, he suddenly tilted his head, looking at Buddha Dīpaṁkara.

Instinct told him Buddha Dīpaṁkara was hiding something again. Buddha elders were surely involved.

“Actually… Your Excellency—one artifact weapon works too—just the success rate might be lower, and the ritual a bit troublesome.”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara said trembling. His current actions—besides remote control by Aslan—were mostly his own initiative.

Only before coming, Aslan told him—if he could make the Holy Son turn all Christian artifact weapons into the Divine Sword of Salvation—he’d get one Authority as reward.

But it seemed he wouldn’t get this reward.

Of course, this action’s basic purpose was to reduce the Holy Son’s suspicion of Buddha Dīpaṁkara and deepen his stereotype of Buddha people—especially man-made Buddha lineage.

Need to know—man-made Buddha lineage was known for soliciting donations from followers to gild bodies—showing how poor and shameless they were.

Buddha Dīpaṁkara himself betrayed Tongtian Sect Master in Investiture of the Gods.

So—even meeting a Two-Digit—taking bribes wasn’t strange.

If he made the Holy Son spend big—Aslan naturally wouldn’t skimp on rewards.

Hearing that, the Holy Son stared at Buddha Dīpaṁkara for a long time before saying.

“Hope there’s no next time. You surely understand my meaning.”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara nodded vigorously. No—definitely no next time.

Just a small Authority—how could it compare to his life?

The world’s saddest thing was dying with money unspent—only benefiting others.

But the Holy Son also felt relieved. In a sense, this news’ signal could be seen as a goodwill gesture and peace offer from Thousand Eyes to him.

Giving the Holy Son a chance to become King of the End early—avoiding direct confrontation with Aslan in the Campione War—helping him secure final victory sooner.

Sending him straight to the finals.

In his view—this was compensation from the two goddesses. He didn’t think Shiroyasha and Aslan would allow this information sold to him.

Not interfering was already good.

A smile appeared on the Holy Son’s face—but it was extraordinarily cold.

This compensation—he accepted. Past matters could be forgotten—but if it happened again.

Don’t blame him for being impolite.

◆━⊰✧⊱━◆

Meanwhile, in Arcadia—Aslan, counting harvest with Shiroyasha and Algol—suddenly sneezed.

“Who’s thinking of me again?”

Aslan rubbed his nose—completely unaware the trap he set for the Holy Son was seen as a goodwill gesture?

After thinking long and failing to understand—Aslan chose to continue sharing spoils with them.

◆━⊰✧⊱━◆

On the other side, the Holy Son also brought Buddha Dīpaṁkara to prepare King of the End summoning ritual.

Though he greatly disliked Buddha Dīpaṁkara—a man-made Buddha with poor reputation in Buddha—the Thousand Eyes information was in his head.

Though he could read it—Thousand Eyes set restrictions: no memory extraction, no writing—only verbal.

This prevented resale.

Of course, some cunning people had ways around it—but unfortunately Buddha Dīpaṁkara didn’t.

The Holy Son was reluctant and didn’t want to extract Buddha Dīpaṁkara’s memories. Accidentally triggering something making his ten-Authority information inaccurate wouldn’t be good.

So the Holy Son—though unwilling—had to bring Buddha Dīpaṁkara and leave ritual setup to him.

“Your Excellency Holy Son—please insert a powerful, famous artifact weapon into the ritual.”

After setup, the Holy Son produced a bright red spear—thrusting it into the ritual’s center.

Seeing the spear, Buddha Dīpaṁkara froze. He looked at the Holy Son confused.

(Wait—what do you mean giving the Longinus Spear—that once wounded you—to King of the End?)

Not understanding this big shot’s thoughts—Buddha Dīpaṁkara shook his head helplessly and continued leading King of the End awakening ritual.

“Your Excellency Holy Son—one more item is missing from the ritual preparations—and it’s the most important for awakening King of the End: the Holy Grail.”

The so-called Holy Grail was just a cup containing the Holy Son’s blood. For the Holy Son—this shouldn’t be hard to obtain.

Hearing that, the Holy Son froze—then smiled.

He’d been puzzled how to place the Holy Grail on the battlefield. Wasn’t this reason coming itself?

With the ritual’s help—he could reasonably place a Holy Grail that could revive him—without arousing others’ suspicion.

-

Title: Opening Beam Attack, As a Sign of Respect

[O King of Steel, please awaken from your long slumber!]

Outside the ritual, Buddha Dīpaṁkara chanted the incantation loudly.

Accompanied by the chant, countless lights converged toward the ritual’s center. The Longinus Spear—previously flowing with the Holy Son’s blood—was bathed, melted, and reforged by the innumerable lights.

Finally, it formed a beautiful sword embedded in the altar’s center—the Sword in the Stone, which no one could draw.

This was the Divine Sword of Salvation (Little Garden version), its current true name Excalibur—meaning Holy Sword of the Star.

“According to Thousand Eyes’ information, the Divine Sword of Salvation is King of the End’s main body. Next, it only needs to be doused with highly concentrated Spiritual Energy.”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara raised one hand before his chest, slightly bowed toward the Divine Sword of Salvation, then turned and spoke to the Holy Son—or rather, the God Slayer Messiah—holding the Holy Grail.

“Your Excellency, this little monk will take his leave now.”

Buddha Dīpaṁkara knew well—what came next wasn’t something he could interfere with. The battle between the Holy Son’s incarnation and King of the End.

Though this Holy Son incarnation hadn’t even reached Four-Digit, and the current King of the End was at best elite Four-Digit level.

That didn’t mean he—this fake—could join in. He might not even withstand the shockwaves.

“No—stay here.”

Messiah turned, staring at Buddha Dīpaṁkara, speaking firmly.

Buddha Dīpaṁkara sighed, shaking his head helplessly. Indeed, his fate was to keep toiling.

But since it was this Holy Son’s request—he couldn’t refuse.

He could only bow slightly toward Messiah.

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

Then, Messiah stepped back several paces, yielding the awakening altar to Buddha Dīpaṁkara.

Buddha Dīpaṁkara sighed, took the Holy Grail, tilted it—pouring the bright red liquid inside.

All of it was blood drawn by Messiah. Under the Holy Grail’s nourishment, it had become highly concentrated energy fluid—accelerating King of the End’s awakening and recovery.

Enabling peak condition as quickly as possible—then he could kill him.

Additionally, the fluid was filled with Messiah’s unique god pollution. Both Messiah and King of the End were Saviors.

Thus, he could use god pollution to restrict part of King of the End’s power.

The bright red blood-like fluid flowed from the golden Holy Grail, drenching the golden beautiful Holy Sword—adding a touch of blood color to it.

And with the blood color’s appearance, a shadowy figure emerged.

A man with golden hair and extremely handsome appearance. He had a lazy yet confident aura, wearing pale silver armor, standing beside the Holy Sword.

He looked at Messiah several steps away, mouth corners smiling.

“Didn’t expect to wake this early? You woke me?”

“Seems you might not know—I’m a bit sensitive when woken?”

Aslan single-handedly drew the firmly embedded Sword in the Stone from the altar, pointing it at the distant Holy Son, and shouted.

“Excalibur!!!”

The highest etiquette in Savior meetings was face-washing with a beam.

Only those who could withstand a beam could be called Aslan’s opponent.

Pure energy flow carrying infinite light and heat surged toward Messiah.

In this extraordinary situation, nearly all directions Messiah could dodge or escape were locked by the beam.

Forcing him to directly use his Authority to confront Aslan’s released beam.

At this critical moment, a crown of thorns—unknown since when—appeared above Messiah’s head.

It was the Crown of Thorns. Legend said when Jesus was crucified, Roman soldiers wove a thorn crown and placed it on his head.

Symbolizing the suffering he bore for humanity.

This Authority’s manifestation was returning damage to the attacker when struck.

“The Lord at your right hand will shatter kings on the day of His wrath.”

When the attack returned to Aslan, tiny unseen fragments appeared before him.

Forming what could be called absolute defense in front of Aslan—blocking all returned attacks.

Even reflecting some back.

The situation instantly became truly awkward.

Only a beam of light remained, gradually fading, bouncing back and forth between Aslan and Messiah.

Ultimately, neither was injured—not even dusted.

The only price paid was the surrounding ground bearing the shockwaves between Aslan and Messiah.

The originally prepared altar had long vanished—leaving countless craters and partially vitrified soil from high-temperature corrosion.

“Tch—no effect?”

Aslan clicked his tongue irritably. He’d hoped to kill Messiah upon appearance.

Directly unleashing his big move—killing Messiah in one strike.

But it seemed difficult now.

“Looks like a tough fight ahead.”

Aslan sighed, then looked at Messiah across from him.

Just using abilities from Arthur and King of the End Spirit Status—without his mastered Displacement Magecraft and spatial operations—defeating this old-timer.

Still a bit challenging.

Especially now—Aslan and Messiah hadn’t truly fought yet, but already knew the other was a tough opponent.

Neither could breach the other’s defense.

“How about we both drop defenses and fight like real men?”

Aslan set down the Holy Star Sword, looking at Messiah, asking probingly.

How to fight if both wore turtle shells?

Messiah paused, staring—as if stating his intent.

(Who’d trust you? The first to drop defense suffers most.)

Aslan raised an eyebrow. Invisible Air wrapped the Holy Star Sword in his hand—hiding the blade’s form.

“Fine—seems we can only keep fighting with turtle shells.”

Unnoticed, the Holy Star Sword in his hand had been replaced by a spear shining like sunlight.

“Careful—this move isn’t easy to block.”

Aslan suddenly thrust forward—stabbing toward Messiah.

Messiah unconsciously dodged right. The inevitably hitting, inevitably winning Gáe Bolg locked him—stabbing toward his heart.

But unfortunately, it was blocked by the Crown of Thorns on his head. The divine spear’s tip stabbed as if hitting unimaginable hardness.

And shattered bit by bit.

“Something wrong?”

The stabbed Messiah quickly realized something off with his condition. He raised his head—shocked to see his Crown of Thorns somehow damaged.

“You noticed?”

Aslan sneered, summoning Gungnir again—the eternal spear used by Odin in Norse mythology.

“This spear will definitely pierce the Crown of Thorns before me.”

*SWOOSH!*

The sound of pierced air rang—a white light flashed.

Then, the spear pierced the Crown of Thorns.

But the effect wasn’t great. Only slight damage to the Crown—then shattered by the counterattack.

It could only be said—this was indeed a carefully chosen Authority by the Holy Son. Its effects were no joke.

“However, Holy Son—how many more times can you endure?”

Aslan pocketed both hands. Countless golden lights surged behind him. Artifact weapons recorded in Celtic, Norse, and other mythologies under Queen Halloween slowly emerged.

Aiming at Messiah like projectiles.

Indeed—Gilgamesh’s weapon usage was most comfortable.

Gate of Babylon: Divine Sword of Salvation version!!

Aslan lightly waved.

*SWOOSH!* *SWOOSH!* *SWOOSH!*
*SWOOSH!* *SWOOSH!* *SWOOSH!*

Countless artifacts shot toward Messiah—as if cost-free!

“You remind me of a shameless kid.”

Messiah sneered, stomping— a giant cross shadow appearing behind him.

This was the primary Authority he prepared for himself.

Time was too short. Heretic Gods he killed weren’t many.

All obtained Authorities came from Christian angels and the Heretic God Jesus he incarnated.

“If former Pope Artorius had one-tenth the shamelessness of you and that kid—he wouldn’t have died in the Dystopia War.”

As Messiah finished, countless holy lights released—destroying all Aslan’s artifacts in one strike.

In this process, Aslan wasn’t surprised at all.

He showed a bright smile—lightly brushing away the hymns ringing with the holy light and falling feathers.

“Thank you for the compliment. After all, the noble die repeatedly in wars. Aren’t the survivors shameless ones like us?”

“Don’t you think, Judas—who betrayed the Holy Son?”

With Aslan’s words, space fell silent at this moment.

The holy light hymns from Messiah’s summoned cross shadow vanished—feathers stopped falling.

Only boundless killing intent remained.

Messiah stared coldly—and after a while, said.

“I admit—you’re as annoying as that damn guy.”

One more sentence he didn’t say. If not for seeing Aslan’s Spirit Status, aura, and appearance truly different from Arthur—he’d almost think they were the same person.

This mouth, this shameless character, this annoying attitude—all carved from the same mold.

While speaking, he turned the shadowy Crown of Thorns on his head into an entity—wearing it.

The thorns pierced his skin—bright red blood flowing from his head.

Aslan vaguely felt his head stabbed by thorns—but Avalon blocked this attack for him.

Causing him no damage.