I Created a Containment Object at the Start, and Became a God

102: The mask has a new owner!Lei Zhen also spoke with a solemn expression at this moment, his voice calm as he added:

”Yes, Chief. Old Zhao is absolutely correct.

At the Three Wise Monkeys’ Divine Birth site, if not for the sudden intervention of that Thousand-Faced Oracle, with our strength at the time, even if we could have stopped it, we would have paid an extremely heavy price, and might not even have been able to fully contain the aftershocks of the Divine Birth.

The methods He displayed... were simply inconceivable, dismantling the descent ritual of those three evil gods with an almost crushing force.”

He paused slightly, as if recalling that shocking scene, then threw out an even more crucial piece of information:

”Furthermore, Chief, in fact, even earlier, our bureau had already grasped a method that might allow for limited communication with this Thousand-Faced Oracle. It’s just...”

Hearing this, the Chief’s tightly furrowed brow moved slightly, and a sharp glint flashed in his eyes:

”Oh? Such a thing? You’ve already found a way to make contact?”

His body unconsciously leaned forward slightly, showing great concern.

Zhao Hongchang took over, his tone filled with deep apprehension:

”Chief, that is indeed the case. But the reason we’ve held back from immediately reporting and initiating the contact procedure is precisely out of extreme caution and... apprehension.”

He took a deep breath, ”You know, the so-called Outer Gods or Higher Beings we’ve encountered in the past, regardless of whether their attitude was neutral, ambiguous, or conditional.

While their power level is formidable, most are still within the scope of what we can attempt to understand and defend against.

But this Thousand-Faced Oracle... and the lord of the heavens He represents... are completely different.”

His voice became even lower: ”This Thousand-Faced Oracle is an existence who has truly accomplished the feat of god-slaying.

He didn’t simply expel or seal; He thoroughly killed something we consider divine.

This level of status and power has far exceeded all our existing cognitive systems and risk assessment models.

Contact with such an existence carries unknown and uncontrollable risks. We cannot predict the consequences of contact, whether it will bring fortune or disaster, it is hard to foresee.

Therefore, we have been conducting the strictest evaluations and preparations, not daring to act rashly.”

The Chief listened, then fell into a long silence.

His fingers unconsciously tapped the desktop, his gaze profound, as if weighing the fate of an entire civilization.

The conference room was so quiet that only the heavy breathing of a few people could be heard.

A few minutes later, he slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over each person in charge, his eyes revealing a resolute determination to burn his bridges:

”Your concerns, I understand, and I appreciate them deeply. Caution is necessary.”

He changed the subject, his tone becoming extremely serious, ”However, comrades, the current situation has undergone a fundamental change.

The reckless actions of the Japanese Government have revealed the mystery of the gods to the world, forcibly accelerating a certain process.

Global cognitive barriers are collapsing, and the power of faith is converging. It is foreseeable that incidents of divine descent will occur with unprecedented frequency and scale.”

He stood up, hands braced on the table, leaning forward, creating a powerful sense of pressure:

”We no longer have much time for hesitation and observation. In the face of such a monumental change concerning the survival of civilization, we cannot be held back by fear of risk.

Passive waiting may mean destruction; active contact might just provide a glimmer of hope in desperation!”

He finally made the decision: ”I agree in principle with your judgment. Now, I approve you to initiate the contact procedure with the ’Thousand-Faced Oracle’.”

He particularly emphasized, ”However, the highest level of safety protocols must be followed! With probing and information gathering as the primary objectives, it is imperative to ensure the contact process is controllable and to ensure the safety of our personnel.

We must understand His intentions, and learn the attitude of the lord of the heavens behind Him towards this world and human civilization!”

”Yes, Chief!” Zhao Hongchang, Lei Zhen, and the other five immediately stood up and responded in unison... Tokyo, deep within a deserted sewer system.

It was dark and damp here, the air filled with a nauseating stench of decay and rust.

Murky sewage flowed slowly, making a monotonous gurgling sound.

Beside a narrow inspection passage covered in slimy moss, a gaunt, withered figure huddled in a corner, like trash abandoned by the world.

His skin loosely covered his bones, covered in dark brown age spots, his hair completely white and sparse, like withered weeds.

Only the demonic mask still clinging to his face, as if grown into his flesh, emitted an extremely faint, dark red glow, like a flickering candle in the wind, proving that he was no ordinary vagrant or unnamed corpse.

He was Jirō, who had escaped the inescapable net laid by the Japanese Special Adjustment Department and the Self-Defense Forces.

However, the cost of his escape was heavy and irreversible.

The power unleashed by the Bloodthirsty Mask at the last moment almost instantly drained all his remaining life essence.

At this moment, he had long since reverted from that terrifying demonic general, nearly three meters tall with bulging muscles, to his original form, and even worse—a dying old man, his oil depleted, struggling even to breathe.

”Hoo... hoo...”

He gasped, his breath like a broken bellows, each inhale bringing sharp pain in his lungs and the chill of death.

He could clearly feel his life force rapidly draining away like sand through his fingers. Darkness, like a cold tide, surged from all directions, trying to drag him into eternal slumber.

”No... I don’t want to... die...”

Jirō’s murky eyes were filled with extreme unwillingness and fear.

He used the last shred of his strength, his trembling, withered branch-like arm, to laboriously lift it a few centimeters, reaching for the mask that had fallen into the sewage at his feet.

That mask was the source of his power, the thrill of his revenge, the amplifier of his twisted desires, and also... the curse that pushed him into an abyss of no return.

At this moment, this final obsession sustained him, wanting to touch it again, as if it were the only straw that could delay death.

However, his fingertips were only a few centimeters from the mask, yet it felt like an insurmountable chasm. His arm finally dropped powerlessly, splashing a small amount of murky water.

”I... am unwilling...” This was the last clear thought in his mind.

Immediately, endless darkness completely swallowed his consciousness.

His eyes, filled with malice and unwillingness, lost their last glimmer of light, becoming hollow and vacant.

Jirō, this wretch twisted by desire and power, and ultimately consumed by power, silently ended his brief and insane life in a dark corner beneath Tokyo.

Shortly after his death, the water flow in the sewer seemed to accelerate slightly.

A dark current surged, carrying the Bloodthirsty Mask that lay quietly in the sewage.

The mask tumbled in the water, beginning its aimless journey along the winding underground pipes.

A few days later.

Tokyo Bay, a secluded coastline. Waves gently lapped against the rocks.

A dark-skinned, honest-looking young fisherman, dressed in simple waterproof clothing, was laboriously dragging his small fishing boat ashore.

His name was A Hai, and his family had fished these waters for generations, living a poor and simple life.

Today’s catch was poor; the fishing net was unusually heavy, but when pulled up, it only contained a few scattered small fish and a large pile of marine debris.

A Hai sighed and began to sort through his net, carefully removing the plastic, rags, rotten wooden sticks, and other debris tangled within it.

Just then, his fingers touched something cold, hard, and bearing strange patterns.

”Huh? What’s this?” A Hai curiously pulled the object from the tangled fishing net.

In the afterglow of the setting sun, he saw it clearly—it was an ancient and eerie mask, neither metal nor wood, cold to the touch.

Although the demonic patterns on the mask were somewhat blurred by seawater, they still exuded an indescribable, unsettling beauty that drew attention.

A Hai came from a poor family and hadn’t seen much of the world. He just thought the mask looked special, perhaps an antique dropped by a tourist, which could be sold for some money to help his family.

He subconsciously rubbed the surface of the mask with his rough fingers.

Just as his fingertip brushed across the mask’s eye socket—

A cold, seductive whisper, as if directly resounding in the depths of his soul, silently drilled into his mind!

”Wear me...”

”You will gain power... gain wealth... gain everything you desire...”

”No longer poor... no longer looked down upon...”

This whisper was full of magic, amplifying A Hai’s deep-seated inferiority complex due to poverty, his longing to change his fate, and the occasional resentment of being scorned by the townspeople.

A Hai’s eyes gradually became hazy and blank, his breathing slightly quickening.

He looked at the mask in his hand, which seemed to have come alive, and a suppressed corner of his heart was stirred.

”Power... wealth...” He murmured unconsciously.

Driven by an irresistible impulse, a mixture of greed and ignorance, A Hai, as if hypnotized, slowly raised the ominous Bloodthirsty Mask to his face with both hands.

Then, illuminated by the bloody light of the setting sun, he unhesitatingly placed the mask onto his honest, simple face!

...