From God of Lies to Lord of All Worlds

Chapter 235: Kindness from the Slums

Bai Yang's words signified a massive upheaval in this region.

And this upheaval was not a performance meant for the people of this country. On the contrary, it was a grand show staged for the entire world!

After all, Buddhism was one of the Three Major Religions of the world. Although its number of devout followers might not be the highest, its profound spiritual hierarchy and widespread influence made it an exceptional focal point for gathering Wish Power.

Such a massive population, such vast territory, and so much prestige—these were the most ideal conditions Bai Yang could have ever hoped for.

Furthermore, the legendary Buddhas and Bodhisattvas each possessed distinct characteristics and unique abilities. They could serve as excellent enforcers when the need arose. Wasn't that simply a beautiful setup?

While he was preparing this massive upheaval, special agents from countries all over the globe, backed by their respective high-level officials, began to enter the fray. They disembarked from their flights at Kolkata's airport, arriving one after another.

The moment these agents stepped off their planes, they were greeted by a bizarre spectacle. Several individuals, clearly high-caste Brahmins and Kshatriyas, were rushing into the airport with their entire families in tow. They moved with frantic urgency, acting as if some primordial beast was lurking in the city, ready to devour them whole.

This sight made the hearts of many intelligence gatherers clench!

Agents were typically the most sensitive to such details. Witnessing this mass exodus, they immediately deduced the sheer peril enveloping the city. Their vigilance spiked, and they promptly relayed these developments to their superiors.

Naturally, the high-level officials of various nations paid no mind to the perceived danger. They merely viewed this as a clear indicator of a Transcendence manifestation. Consequently, they ordered their agents to continue advancing toward the two supernatural epicenters.Stirred by these turbulent undercurrents, even the typically slow-to-react Indian Government finally caught wind of the anomalous situation, sparking a new wave of movement.

Police officers mobilized en masse, swarming the city streets. However, whether they were genuinely trying to maintain order or simply seizing the opportunity to extort wealth was highly debatable.

Prompted by the influential figures backing them, the city's evil forces—which could also be aptly described as local militias—sprang into action. This plunged the already chaotic city into a state of absolute, war-torn anarchy.

After all, in a country like India, aside from the official gangs known as the police, the myriad of sinister underworld factions were an inescapable facet of life.

For instance, local squire militias, political party militias, armed gang factions, animal protection organizations, charitable organizations, and counter-espionage organizations were all considered part of these evil forces!

Yes, as absurd as it sounded, animal protection organizations and charitable organizations operated as criminal syndicates, and they were often far more vicious than standard gangs.

Seeing the police out in full force to line their pockets, these groups naturally emerged to claim their share of the pie. After all, anyone could rob the pariahs of their meager savings, and they were terrified that if they arrived too late, there would be nothing left to plunder!

Observing this utter chaos, Bai Yang furrowed his brows even deeper, gaining a far more sobering understanding of this nation.

'Damn it, it seems Wutian was still a bit too conservative. The people here are far more rotten than I imagined!'

'Or perhaps, I should just slaughter them all and start over?'

Bai Yang stroked his chin. Regarding the manifestation of the so-called Demon, a new idea was slowly taking shape in his mind.

...

The dramatic performances of the high-level officials did not cause any noticeable shift in Zanluo's actions.

After all, three trials of agony were exactly that—three trials. Three chances were exactly three chances.

He had already walked through the common districts where ordinary people scraped by, witnessing the cutthroat philosophy of murder born from the filthy struggle for survival. He had also traversed the seemingly pristine affluent neighborhoods, observing the despicable and scheming tactics employed to maintain their rule.

Now, he was going to see the people dwelling at the absolute bottom of society!

Zanluo left the high-caste communities, passed through the clustered settlements of the lower castes, and finally arrived at the slums inhabited by the pariah class.

Rather than calling this place a residence, it was far more accurate to describe it as a garbage dump.

This slum was situated right next to Kolkata's largest landfill, and the massive mountains of trash were swarming with people.

They were individuals who relied solely on this landfill to survive. Their daily work consisted of digging through the putrid, towering heaps of refuse to find anything remotely useful, which they would either use themselves or sell for a pittance.

This was undeniably a grueling existence. Yet, what was even harder was that, despite these wretched conditions, they still had to pay tribute to the gangs, support their families, and somehow keep their loved ones alive!

Sur was one such scavenger living on the garbage mountain. Yes, he was simply called Sur, without even a surname. After all, as a mere Dalit, having a surname was entirely inconsequential.

For all anyone knew, he could die on any given day from poisoning amidst the piles of trash.

After a grueling day of scavenging, he finally scrounged up enough for food and protection fees, as well as his meager rations for the following day. With a sense of relief, he carefully made his way down the mountain of trash.

Tomorrow, relying on these meager earnings, he would be able to rest for a day. He could take his child to bathe in the Ganges River and even buy a small, sweet treat from a street vendor for him to enjoy.

His child had been obedient since birth, never crying or making a fuss, yet he had never tasted anything truly delicious. It was time to let the boy experience a brief moment of joy. After all, the agony of this lifetime had only just begun for him!

However, just as Sur stepped into the mouth of the alley and prepared to head home, he spotted a person sprawled out in front of his door, slowly shifting along the ground.

It was a man with a shaven head and notably pale skin, but his entire body was completely drenched in blood. He appeared to be in a horrific state.

It was Zanluo.

Compared to his previously clean and pristine image, he could no longer be considered safe by any metric. Following the brutal beatings he had endured, his clothes were torn to shreds, and his body appeared frail and decaying—clear signs of the severe trauma he had suffered.

He had not healed his injuries, nor had he ever intended to walk out of this city unscathed. After all, his own death would serve as the most perfect footnote for what he was about to do next.

Thus, relying purely on sheer willpower, he transitioned from walking, to crawling, and finally to painfully inching his way until he arrived in this poverty-stricken area.

At that point, his physical strength was completely exhausted.

As for the items he had carried with him?

They were long gone. His monk's staff had been snatched by street thugs, his alms bowl was lost during a violent collision, his prayer beads were forcibly ripped from his neck, and his wooden fish had vanished without a trace. Even his shoes had been swiped by a passing child after he was trampled by a crowd.

If he hadn't dragged himself through the muddy, filthy, and putrid ground, rendering his clothes completely blackened and unrecognizable, he likely wouldn't even have his garments left.

But now, he had reached his absolute physiological limit.

Zanluo lay motionless on the ground, a faint smile still lingering on his lips. Just as he had predicted, the lowest dregs of this city retained absolutely no kindness. They plundered, tore at each other, and murdered...

To survive, they would attack anyone and everyone around them; this was the foundational law of survival for the people here.

It had nothing to do with good and evil. Driven by pure survival instinct, they would cannibalize any life that wandered into their territory. Like ruthless scavengers, they would devour everything completely, leaving nothing behind.

Therefore, there would certainly be no kindness here, only an all-consuming devouring entirely detached from the concept of sin!

'This is perfect. Once I die here, I will attain transcendence! The rites to guide them to enlightenment can finally begin!' Zanluo silently muttered in his heart, his mind already envisioning his subsequent actions.

However, there was always someone who defied his expectations. Even in a literal cesspit, a butterfly could still gracefully fall!

"Dad, why did we come here?" a tender, childish voice rang out.

"Because there is a person here, and he is still alive..." a deeply exhausted voice replied. "Can you hear me? I left some food for you, right on your chest. Eat it, pray to Lord Shiva, and you will get better!"

"Eat up, get some sleep, and you'll recover by tomorrow!"

Hearing these words—or rather, feeling this refreshing current of pure kindness in the heart of the slums—Zanluo snapped his eyes open!

But by then, the man had already taken his child's hand and walked away.

Only the fading dialogue between the father and son lingered in his ears:

"Dad, you gave your food to him. Aren't you hungry?"

"I'm not hungry, son. I've already eaten. You eat quickly, and once you're done, go take a bath. Tomorrow we'll go into the city to buy something!"

"Mhm! Okay!"

The two dark, emaciated figures faded into the distance, yet they left an indelible impression in Zanluo's heart!

He could vividly sense it; the man wasn't full. It was pure kindness. This frail Dalit man had benevolently chosen to trade his own meager rations in an attempt to save Zanluo's life.

Zanluo had no choice but to slowly sit up. He picked up the incredibly coarse flatbread resting on his chest, brought it to his mouth, and began to gnaw on it bite by bite.

Throughout his meal, his teeth constantly ground against the tiny stones and sand mixed into the dough, but he didn't utter a single word of complaint. Instead, he stared in the direction the father and son had vanished, a solemn and grave expression washing over his face.

For Zanluo, this development was terrible. It meant that in this wretched city, genuine kindness actually existed! Someone had actually chosen to use their own rations to save his life!

In the context of Buddhism, such a person was unequivocally a virtuous person.

In other words, his third trial of agony had failed!

"Heh!" Zanluo suddenly burst into laughter. "This works too. If I were to guide absolutely everyone to enlightenment, there would be no one left to spread my teachings. Now, this presents a unique opportunity!"

Relying on the energy provided by the crude flatbread, he barely managed to stand up. Leaning against a nearby wooden pillar, he let out a long breath.

"Since that is the case, I shall continue walking this path..."