Chapter 72 — The God Returned
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Aurora City Hall · 7:30 a.m.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime as YiChen stepped out.
Leo Karanda—Chief Secretary to the Mayor—was already waiting at the entrance.
“Welcome back, YiChen.”
His voice carried the fatigue of several sleepless nights, though his posture remained immaculate—precise, composed, disciplined.
YiChen offered a brief nod.
Leo’s tight smile faltered with restrained guilt.
“Sorry. I know you came straight from the Blackpine front, fought through the night, and haven’t slept—but the Mayor insisted…”
“No problem,” YiChen cut in, eyes sliding toward the sealed conference doors.
“Everyone’s here?”
Leo lowered his voice—a subtle warning threaded beneath the calm.
“The Church of Radiant Grace sent a representative as well.”
YiChen’s gaze sharpened.
“Who?”
“Patriarch Gray.”
YiChen said nothing more.
But his stride lengthened—silent as a shadow, inevitable as dawn.
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Conference Hall · Pressure Beneath Politeness
The doors opened.
Every head in the room turned.
Thirty officials sat around a long polished table.
Behind them, a wall-length screen looped silent footage:
Gray mist devouring corridors.
Spirit Flames detonating against shadow.
Concrete rupturing.
Fiends screaming—silent, contorted, inhuman.
Each frozen frame flickered like a nightmare caught mid-rewind.
Mayor Carter rose, clapping once.
“YiChen. Welcome back.”
Polite applause followed—
some sincere,
some obligatory,
most quietly afraid.
YiChen raised a hand.
Silence fell instantly.
Carter resumed his seat with a practiced political smile.
“We’ve reviewed preliminary reports. You saved the hospital—and the city owes you.”
“It wasn’t just me,” YiChen replied evenly.
“Of course,” Carter said, fluent in the delicate calculus of credit and blame.
“This meeting is to hear your assessment—how we move forward.”
YiChen did not sit.
He stepped into the circle of ceiling light at the room’s center—
a figure defined by dusk and firelight,
the weight of every pair of eyes landing against a presence they could neither command nor contain.
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“I’ll be brief.”
His voice was calm.
“First—The Mist Fiends have reached Stage Three.”
For a split second, the overhead lights flickered—
as if even the building registered the shift in reality.
“They’re no longer mindless.
They coordinate.
They set ambushes.
Some… have begun imitating human speech.”
A ripple passed through the room.
A chair creaked.
Someone exhaled too sharply.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Another tightened their grip around a stylus until it nearly snapped.
YiChen continued as if slicing through fog.
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“Second—Animal mutations are imminent.”
His gaze swept the officials—pausing, just slightly, on the Finance Councilor whose knuckles had blanched white.
“Spirit Energy saturation has crossed a critical threshold.
Pets and wildlife will begin awakening.”
A measured pause.
“Some will become Guardians.”
Then, cutting cold:
“Some…
will become the monsters hiding under your children’s beds.”
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Silence.
Heavy. Suffocating.
Somewhere, a sharp breath caught.
A teacup slipped from trembling fingers and landed soundlessly on the carpet.
No one moved.
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“Third—”
YiChen set one hand on the table.
The gesture was small—
but the room felt as though its temperature dropped three degrees.
“Stage Three variants are stabilizing their Spirit Cores. Rapidly.”
“Their contamination zones are expanding.”
He straightened.
And delivered the final line like a verdict carved into stone.
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“This is no longer a city defense operation.
This is a war—
for species survival.”
—————
Spirit-Energy Defense Net
John Mitchell, Chief of Public Security, shot to his feet.
“What’s your proposal?”
YiChen didn’t hesitate.
“A citywide Spirit-Energy defensive net.”
He stepped forward, voice crisp and immovable:
“Construct a ring of Spirit-Energy Towers around the city perimeter, anchored to the subterranean Meridian Grid.
Each tower will project a high-output Spirit Shield—activated nightly.
Within the city, establish regional relay nodes—
for emergency reboot, swift sector lockdown, and post-catastrophe quarantine.”
He paused.
“This isn’t for combat.”
His voice lowered, becoming something steady and undeniable.
“It’s so people can live normal lives…
at night.”
A Finance Councilor slammed his hand against the table.
“Do you realize what that would cost? Spirit-Energy Towers aren’t built on idealistic fantasies!”
YiChen met his glare with quiet, lethal calm.
“Then your solution,” he asked, “is what—locking your kid in the basement after five?”
Silence detonated across the table.
Color drained from the councilor’s face.
YiChen continued without sparing him another glance.
“I’ll supply the Spirit Crystals. I’ll provide the blueprints.”
He turned slightly.
“Your part is the decision and execution.
You have three days.”
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The Saint’s Ownership
A soft, smooth voice broke the tension.
“Cecilia.”
Patriarch Gray finally spoke.
His tone was gentle—
but beneath it pulsed authority sharp enough to cut.
“She belongs to the Church of Radiant Grace.
Naturally, she must be placed under our care.”
The temperature in the hall plummeted.
YiChen turned toward him slowly.
His gaze was glacial—quiet, merciless.
“She nearly died in your care.”
“YiChen—” Mayor Carter tried to intervene.
YiChen ignored him.
“She never asked to be your Saint.
You forced your doctrine onto her.
And when she was breaking—
you sent her to die.”
His voice hardened into a blade.
“You don’t have that right.”
Gray’s knuckles went white around his cane.
But he said nothing.
Because he had nothing.
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After a long, brittle silence, the Mayor exhaled.
“I’ll authorize the Energy Tower project.
Will you oversee it?”
YiChen nodded once.
“Personally.
Until it’s built… this city has no real safety.”
He offered no further explanation.
He simply turned—
let his gaze slide, cold and final, over Gray—
and walked out.
The doors shut behind him with a soft, decisive click.
No one spoke for a long time.
Then someone whispered:
“The god has returned.”
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9:00 a.m.
YiChen reached his room.
He didn’t change.
Didn’t shower.
Didn’t remove his boots.
He collapsed face-down onto the bed.
The Pact Mark at his nape flickered faint gold.
Shadowfang—coiled lazily near the window—exhaled in theatrical disapproval, then flicked his tail to draw the curtains shut.
YiChen was already asleep.
Deep.
Dreamless.
Outside, morning sunlight spilled across Aurora City.
Inside, the world held still.
The city had survived the night.
But it had already begun to burn.
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9:30 a.m. · Aurora City Hall — Official Channel
[Special Announcement]
Between 00:00 and 04:00, Aurora Central Hospital experienced the most severe Spiritual Catastrophe in city history.
Confirmed casualties: 4,401.
Critical rescues ongoing: 72.
Facing total system collapse,
the Spirit Realm Expedition Unit—led by Captain YiChen Caelestis—executed a high-risk intervention.
At 04:02, they eliminated a Stage Three Mist Fiend, secured all major wards, and rescued 623 civilians and medical staff.
Aurora City extends its deepest respect for their sacrifice and courage.
— Office of the Mayor
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9:40 a.m. · Citywide Net Explosion
[#YiChenIsBack]
[#CentralHospitalCatastrophe]
[#StageThreeFiendsConfirmed]
Within minutes, the city ignited:
“He saved everyone. Again.”
“That explosion—what technique was that?!”
“So the Saint failed… and he didn’t?”
“Who is he really?”
“The way he carried that girl—my heart dropped.”
“I don’t care. I’m worshipping him from now on.”
“Maybe calling him a god wasn’t exaggeration.”
“He’s my god today.”
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Same Time · Church of Radiant Grace — High Hall
Bishop Branden Wood stood by the tall arched window, a cup of untouched tea cooling in his hand.
Behind him, a senior nun spoke softly.
“Your Excellency… the city’s announcement has spread.
Public sentiment is… escalating.
Some citizens are even… praying to him.”
Wood did not turn.
“Cecilia lost this round.”
He set the cup down gently—
but his eyes were freezing stone.
“He has returned.
We cannot confront him now.”
His voice lowered to a whisper of strategy and threat.
“We withdraw.
And wait—
for the High God to send another revelation.”
