From God of Lies to Lord of All Worlds

Chapter 92: Corroborated History

"The molten sword of Saint Michael hereby decrees:

South to the humus layer of the Mississippi River,

North to the moraine bedrock of The Great Lakes,

All who suck human blood shall rot into pillars of salt,

All who worship fangs shall eternally fall into boiling tar!

For The Lord hath proclaimed:

"I shall eradicate the evil beasts from the promised land."

Amen!"

The special Choir composed of Clergymen and Nuns chanted the prayer named Exorcising the Abyss. This was the special prayer document Professor Thomas had obtained from Trinity Church in New York, and it was currently the only special prayer they knew of that was effective on documents from the American Civil War era.

The other prayer was the special one concerning Myriad Spirits that Professor Peyton Edwards had chanted when Gao was in Luo City.However, after those Myriad Spirits were summoned the first time and made a critical remark regarding that Yu Sheshen, they never responded to any further summons, which was quite a pity.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!" Three crisp bell tolls rang in everyone's ears, awakening Gao from his memories and signaling the end of this Ritual.

In the eyes of the crowd, the seemingly ordinary and silent Lincoln's Tomb began to shift after the bells ceased.

From within the granite tomb came the sound of rolling Stone. Then, right before the eyes of the Clergy, Agents, and the assisting police officers, that massive granite obelisk simply slid backward!

"My God!" everyone exclaimed in similar astonishment. They looked up at the structure before them, watching the obelisk move and staring at the Bronze Statue that suddenly slid to the side, their eyes filled with shock.

"If I remember correctly, 1865 was still the Steam Age, right?" Gao muttered. "Could the Steam Age really produce a moving Mechanical Structure like this?"

Chris shook his head. "That would have been extremely difficult, sir!"

"That is exactly why it is called a Divine Miracle!"

The existence of such immense power could hardly be attributed to technology. It could only be chalked up to the Secret and the supernatural.

Among those present, there was actually no shortage of locals who felt deeply contemptuous of the actions taken by Gao and his team. This included the Choir, as well as the police officers transferred over to maintain order.

Deep down, they felt that this was just another group of clowns from Washington D.C., attempting some self-righteous mystical operation, only to end up with nothing happening before scampering away in disgrace.

They had even already figured out exactly how they would mock these people from the capital once they left.

But now, they could no longer laugh.

Did this structure, which had stood in Illinois for over a century, truly harbor a Secret existence? And yet, they, the locals, had known absolutely nothing about it?

The Bronze Statue slowly moved aside while the crowd watched in stunned silence, revealing a hollow opening large enough for a grown adult to enter.

Gao straightened his clothes and stepped forward.

"Sir, be careful, it might be dangerous inside!" Chris hurriedly warned.

Gao's footsteps did not falter for even a second. "I believe that a great leader who guided America from division to unity would not leave behind anything here intended to harm others!"

"Since there is a way to open this tomb, there must be a reason for us to enter!"

"I believe this was his expectation. He hoped that one day we would find this place, retrieve his relics here, and thus fulfill his unfinished wishes!"

Growing up as a traditional white man, he had heard stories featuring Mr. Lincoln his entire life. Thus, Gao felt exceptionally confident.

Seeing that his superior was already heading inside, Chris drew his Pistol and signaled the people behind him to follow. The interior of the tomb was not large, only spacious enough for a few people to stand upright. In the center of the tomb, an Oak Coffin lay flat, looking utterly ordinary.

Gao stood inside the tomb, gazing at the nearly identical granite walls around him, a thoughtful expression surfacing on his face.

He was hesitating over whether or not to open Lincoln's coffin. Although he was certain it contained what they needed, he also knew that given Lincoln's monumental prestige in this country, he would not be far from forced retirement once he committed such an act.

Moreover, it might even invite some fanatical individuals to subject him to a private trial in the name of desecrating a Heroic Spirit.

While it sounded absurd, this was America; such behavior was entirely plausible here.

Just as he was still pondering, Chris's voice snapped him back to reality. "Sir, there seems to be something here... Hiss!"

Hearing the sound, Gao turned his head, only to find that Chris had already clutched his finger. A drop of red was slowly seeping out from his fingertip.

"Remember to get a vaccine shot when we get back later. Who knows if there's anything else in this tomb!" Gao said, breathing a sigh of relief. It appeared the other man had simply been pricked by a sharp wooden splinter.

But just as that thought crossed his mind, the coffin before them emitted a violent screech of friction. Then, with a loud bang, it disintegrated right before their eyes.

The Oak Coffin Lid flew outward under the immense impact, smashing squarely into an unlucky Agent who had just entered, sending him flying out of the tomb along with it.

However, the people currently inside the tomb had little time to pay attention to that unlucky fellow who got blasted away. Instead, they focused their gazes on the center of the completely shattered coffin.

What should have been resting inside this coffin was the greatest president in the history of America—Abraham Lincoln!

But then came the part that shocked everyone: there was absolutely no corpse before them. There was only a rotting suit that, caught in the flow of air, crumbled into fragile fibers and scattered into the wind.

"Is this a fake tomb?" A look of horror and bewilderment appeared on Gao's face. How could that be possible? Whether it was the National Library, the National Archives, or any other official government document of America, all of them had detailed records of this burial.

They had confirmed it many times before coming here, yet the truth unfolding before their eyes was telling them that those records were entirely fabricated.

The president had indeed died, but his remains were not here.

However, as the suit dissipated, the markings positioned where the coffin had been caught Gao's attention instead. He grabbed a flashlight from an Agent nearby and shined it on the spot in front of him.

There, some peculiar silver particles were shimmering with light, but they looked indistinct, as if something was missing.

At that thought, a sudden flash of inspiration struck Gao. He grabbed Chris and pressed his still-bleeding finger right onto the spot!

The next moment, beads of blood surged from Chris's finger and continuously flowed toward that specific spot. Under their watchful eyes, the blood etched itself into the bottom of the coffin, causing several lines of text to gradually materialize.

"I am Lincoln. These are the words I write before my definitive death."

As the two men watched, the blood triggered the Secret markings at the bottom of the coffin. A silvery-white light suddenly flared, and lines of interlocking vertical italics clearly appeared—it was none other than Lincoln's distinctively rugged handwriting:

"I do not expect any future Americans to open my tomb, for that would mean the disaster that had once been quelled has emerged once again.

But since you have already made your choice, I, Lincoln, the sixteenth president of America, gravekeeper, protector, Knight of The Church, and Vampire hunter, leave my final words of warning here:

If Dark Creatures ever reappear on the continent, use the blood of my descendants to open the stone wall in the southeast corner of the tomb, retrieve the silver axe of Abraham, and execute the evil that has forsaken the Contract of the past!"

This straightforward statement held no flowery language, yet it exuded an unquestionable majesty.

The blood that should have pooled on the floor had instead transformed into a faint silver glow at the bottom of the coffin, reflecting those astonishing words onto the dumbfounded faces of everyone present.

McDowell's notes, which had originally only been dismissed as Unofficial History, instantly gained irrefutable, hard evidence.

In that fleeting instant, the river of history abruptly changed its course...