From Secret Clan to the Divine Dynasty

The evil cultists outside the cabin remained blissfully unaware of everything, completely blind to the white light in the sky.

All the cultists, except for the elder priest, burst into hideous laughter, sneering disdainfully at Irene's recent prayer.

The leading elder priest shook his head calmly, not joining in the mockery of the girl; instead, there was a trace of faint, barely perceptible pity.

The expressionless old man in the black rainy night was exceedingly terrifying.

His tone was cold and cruel, as if he was narrating the laws of the world's workings.

"You descendants of swineherds who live by fishing, you are, without a doubt, the lowest fodder of a cruel world, your souls are born worthless, and because of that, no deity will ever protect you."

"Since you have no refuge, you might as well become a sacrifice to satisfy my Lord's appetite."

Karl's invisible will projected the white light from the sky onto the lead priest, who immediately became exceedingly dazzling in the pitch-black rainy night.

It's decided, it's you!

"Boom!"

Out of nowhere, a thunderbolt fell in the stormy night, like the white blade in the hands of a thunder god, tearing through the sky like a dancing silver serpent, shattering the darkness, and striking the priest squarely!

A dazzling flash of white light passed, and the elderly priest was completely reduced to hot, pitch-black char, without a single uncharred part left.

The other cultists were all stunned.

Irene was slack-jawed, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Karl was somewhat surprised, having never expected the white light to also be capable of summoning thunder from the heavens.

The girl's lifespan could indeed serve as a "weapon"; it just worked differently from what he had imagined.

Irene, having lost a portion of the white light, did not die or age; only faint silver strands began to appear in her once pitch-black, silky hair.

Irene stared blankly at this scene, tears on her cheeks continuously mixing with the rain, her eyes filled with disbelief.

"What just happened?"

The cultists were terrified upon seeing that the Great Priest had not been blessed by the Mighty Bloody Demon but rather suddenly killed by lightning, and they all felt a strong sense of ill omen.

"Mighty Bloody Demon, please protect us!"

The four cultists who were kneeling on the ground began to plead loudly.

Already full of blind devotion in their minds, they completely believed that the forces of nature represented the retribution of some mysterious existence.

Believing that completely eradicating the threat was the only way to avoid greater danger, and having ascertained that the girl could bear the loss of some of her lifespan, Karl didn't hesitate to draw more white light to form new "weapons."

The invisible blades of judgment marked each cultist one by one, emanating a white light that only he and Irene could see.

"Ah!"

The second cultist wasn't struck by lightning but suddenly burst into raging flames, screaming and writhing, frantically spinning and jumping, yet the fire could not be extinguished even in the pouring rain, and he gradually died in extreme agony.

The remaining cultists were practically insane, knowing this could not be some baseless, accidental mishap but the intervention of some powerful, mysterious force!

"Great Mighty Bloody Demon, someone is killing your followers, please save us!"

The third cultist screamed frantically, suddenly bulging his eyes, wailing and clutching at his face, trembling on his knees, unable to struggle for breath, as if drowning.

Under the terrified gazes of the others, he drowned in the water that emerged from nowhere in his lungs, even as the downpour battered him.

So that was it; the "weapon" was actually a curse that caused unexpected death, Karl finally understood.

The extracted white light was also the lifespan of the prayer, which could then mark individuals and curse them with a mysterious force to die of "sudden accidents."

The fourth cultist, the fifth cultist—they begged in vain for forgiveness from the mysterious entity lurking in the shadows, but still couldn't escape the fate of death.

One died suddenly from an acute illness, asphyxiating, and the last also drowned.

Irene, frozen like a statue, couldn't speak for a long time; her dark, damp hair was now studded with a striking twenty percent white.

After a few maneuvers, Karl too felt a wave of spiritual fatigue, with a significant amount of spiritual power drained from his soul.

Intuition told him it would take at least thirty years to recover naturally, an exasperatingly long time.

"It seems my abilities cannot be expended endlessly, but are limited by 'mana.' Alas, alas, such a minor cheat doesn't really count as cheating!"

If he were to forcefully use his power again, his depleted spirituality would plunge him back into the murky darkness where clarity was lost.

And to permanently increase the upper limit of his spiritual power's "mana," it was clear he had to devour more mysterious rare artifacts.

Karl pondered deeply; in the future, he definitively needed to find a way to acquire more mysterious artifacts and consume them voraciously!

In the midst of the downpour, Irene, covered in mud, slowly got up, staring blankly at the corpses strewn across the ground, her eyes completely vacant.

"What on earth happened…"

The girl had witnessed everything that had just occurred, and she knew these people had not died naturally.

The ghastly array of corpses did not instill fear in her; instead, Irene felt a profound reverence and gratitude towards the mysterious entity that had saved her and her brother!

She was just an ordinary girl living in the town, always having lived with her parents, poor but not feeling any pain.

But just over a month ago, her parents went out to sea to fish for a rare species of fish with a magic beast lineage, and they never returned. The acquaintances in town were all reluctant to mention anything about her parents' situation.

However, Irene was no longer a child, and she gradually understood that her parents would never be coming back.

Therefore, as the elder sister, she must protect her brother, and she vowed to take good care of Chris.

It was tough for Irene to raise her brother on her own, and she found it difficult to survive on her own, let alone take care of an infant in swaddling clothes.

Even with hard daily labor, the stingy adults in town were only willing to give a little bit of food, and Irene had to thank them profusely.

She went hungry day and night but always managed a smile, as everything would be worth it as long as her brother grew up safely.

But the events of this night were so ruthless and cruel; Irene suddenly realized how powerless she was in this dark and brutal world.

"Wah!"

The crying of her brother brought Irene back to her senses.

She quickly returned to the wooden hut with Chris, who was crying and soaking wet, hurriedly ignited a fire with the little dry wood they had in an attempt to warm up her drenched brother.

"Mm, mm, don't cry, don't cry," the soaked girl consoled her brother in her arms.

Outside the wooden hut, the storm raged as Irene knelt on the ground, her body small and huddled like a little animal's, sincerely asking.

"Who are you?"

In the depths of her heart, she knew that what had just happened was no coincidence; there must be some powerful and mysterious entity that had protected her and her brother from the shadows.

"Who are you, the one who saved us?"

As the girl murmured to herself, Karl suddenly felt a gap form deep inside her heart, vague yet genuinely existing.

He realized this might be an opportunity to communicate with someone and needed to seize the moment, picturing a part of his soul being injected into it.

The soul shard entered the girl's body through the gap in her heart and instantly flowed into her bloodstream.

Boom!

The whole fusion process was excruciating for Karl, with his consciousness nearly shattering and his soul itself wilting!

He was acutely aware that his current condition was terrible, at most only enough for one act of splitting his soul.

"Ah!"

Irene couldn't help but scream out in sudden agony.

In pain, she clutched the back of her left hand, where a distinct red mark had emerged on her pale skin, with a round base and a complex pattern of lines that was difficult to define.

Favored member.

The term surfaced suddenly from her memory, and Karl realized that his connection to the girl had become exceedingly close.

It seemed not just her but also the crying baby's chubby little hand bore a red imprint.

It wasn't just the two of them either; the entire Fischer family's bloodline descendants, whether ten generations or a hundred, were doomed to forever be favored members.

Karl knew from memory one significant fact: the souls of favored members would return to him after death, and the ultimate fate of a lifetime of work was to return after death.

The spirituality they carried would also turn into nourishment to strengthen his own soul, just like those mysterious rare artifacts, except that digesting spirituality wouldn't harm the essence of the favored members' souls.

"What is this thing on the back of my hand, this red pattern?"

After not receiving an answer for a long time and sweating from the pain, Irene carefully continued to inquire.

"Could you be some great deity?"

He suddenly found that he could speak in the depths of Irene's heart; no, it was still different, closer to conveying thoughts and ideas than actually producing a human voice.

Karl considered the "deity" concept; it was far too remote. In fact, he was merely a fragmented soul, even trapped inside a small bottle, unable to move.

But if he merely claimed to be a passing remnant soul or some terrifying entity like a devil, it's likely no human would be willing to sincerely communicate.

Karl pondered in silence and decisively fabricated an identity that seemed mighty and awe-inspiring.

[I am the Lord of the Lost, also the god who is destined to revive.]

[You will contribute to the great cause, offering a portion of your strength.]