# 569
**Chapter 570: Bandit**
Xining City.
First People’s Hospital.
A figure leaned on a crutch and slowly walked out of the inpatient department. He glanced up at the towering building behind him, then turned and headed toward the road beyond.
He was the former Ninth Seat of the **Believers**, He Lin.
He had only taken a few steps when a sudden scorching heat surged in his palm, as if someone had stuffed a freshly boiled egg into it. Instinctively, he opened his hand.
He froze—then delight flashed in his eyes.
On his right palm, the outline of a spear was materializing.
“The Spear of Judgment and Oath… the President has returned,” he murmured.
…
South Sea.
The apocalypse-painted McLaren that had appeared out of nowhere left the other **Human Apex** stunned; they had never heard of a powerhouse with pixel-type **Forbidden Ruins** hidden in the mist.
Isis narrowed her eyes and lifted a hand, casually closing her fingers toward the elevated bridge the sports car raced along.
Instantly, lush green plants burst from every gap between the pixel bricks. They writhed, tore, and devoured the structure.
Boom—!!
Within seconds the bridge snapped in half and collapsed.
Barely two hundred meters from the break, the McLaren never eased off the accelerator. It howled forward—and took off into the air!
The driver tapped the steering wheel with a knuckle. The wheel crumbled like quicksand, the collapse sweeping through the whole car. In less than a second the McLaren dissolved into a cloud of pixels swirling around the driver.
She hung in mid-air, a tattered black cloak whipping in the wind. A ragged hood slipped back, releasing a waterfall of silver hair and revealing a breathtakingly cold, beautiful face.
Only then did everyone realize the one who had driven from the mist to confront a god was an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old girl.
Barefoot, her jade-white feet stood upon raging waves. Hands in the pockets of her threadbare cloak, silver hair dancing in the storm, she fixed eyes like frozen lakes on Isis ahead.
The sixth **Human Apex**.
“There really is a sixth?” Guan felt the pressure from her—just a sliver higher than his own—and stared in surprise. “Never heard of her…”
All of **Great Xia** agreed there were only five **Human Apex**.
Yet here stood a girl exuding the same level of power, stepping from the mist to face a goddess.
Guan looked at Ye Fan and found no shock on the man’s face—only the hint of a smile…
He knew about her?
No—perhaps her very existence was a secret Ye Fan had kept.
While Guan’s thoughts raced, Ye Fan—pinned between two boulders—spoke in resigned amusement:
“You’re finally here… I thought you hadn’t gotten my message.”
The silver-haired girl glanced at him. “I was undercover in **Asgard** stealing intel. Your radio call exposed me. I’ve been hunted by their gods ever since—no time to answer.”
“…Sorry for the trouble.”
“You nearly got me permanently stuck there,” she said flatly. “Still, if I hadn’t been exposed, I’d never have met that **Loki** proxy… We made some useful deals.”
**Loki** proxy?
Ye Fan froze at the words.
“Who are you?”
Wind and waves roared as Isis studied the girl’s eyes.
She turned. “My surname is Ji. My name is **Jinian**.”
Isis frowned; the name rang a faint bell.
“You’ve heard it,” Jinian said. “Three years ago I led the team that blew up your twelve Egyptian temples.”
Isis: …
Memory struck.
Three years earlier, inside the Egyptian gods’ **Human Enclosure**, twelve **Chief God** temples had exploded. Centuries of accumulated faith incense had been obliterated, further crippling deities already weakened by the mist.
Investigation revealed some attackers were “sparks” raised inside the enclosure; others had come from the mist, identities unknown.
Some were powerless mortals, some wielded mighty **Forbidden Ruins**, some commanded forbidden artifacts.
They called themselves the **Oath Society**.
Their president: a girl named Jinian.
To the Ennead they were ants—yet these ants had razed temples under divine noses and vanished before any retaliation struck.
Grass-roots terrorists.
And their leader stood here now.
“You’re strong, but no better than them.” Isis gestured toward Ye Fan and the others. “You cannot beat me.”
“I don’t need to.”
Calmly Jinian lifted her right hand from her pocket. Between her fingers appeared a pixel-styled black detonator.
“I got his distress call two days ago. Know why I’m only here now?
Guess where I’ve been.”
Looking into those icy eyes, Isis’s brows drew together.
Jinian smiled thinly. “Your newly rebuilt temples are solid—especially the foundations: sun-brick from Heliopolis, nicely packed.”
Isis’s face darkened.
“You planted bombs inside the **Human Enclosure** again? How did you get in?!”
“No need for you to know.” Jinian’s voice stayed flat. “This time the charges aren’t only under temples… but beneath the dwellings of every human you keep—727,612 souls.
Your entire faith supply, correct?”
“You would murder them?” Isis’s tone turned sharp; the other gods’ expressions went black.
“Why not?”
“You’re human—would you slaughter your own?”
“Their lives are none of my concern.”
Left hand still in her pocket, right hand gripping the detonator, Jinian stood in the storm and spoke without emotion:
“I’ve never been a saint, and the **Oath Society** is no champion of justice…
All I know is: set one foot into **Great Xia** today, and we will exterminate every last human left in your **Human Enclosure**.”
The tattered black cloak snapped in the gale; bandit cruelty glinted in Jinian’s eyes.