Unholy Player Chapter 498 The Owner of the Scarlet Sea (Part 3)

With his composure and confidence rapidly fading, the man attempted to cram everything into those fleeting three seconds. He desperately spat out the one piece of information that might force her hand.

"I have a treasure to complete your God."

This was his ultimate trump card. Even so, he was denied the chance to witness its impact. A heartbeat later, his physical form exploded once more, transforming into a spray of gore and bone while the echoes of his offer hung in the stagnant air.

When he materialized again, he collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. "W-Why?" His voice was thick with disbelief and exhaustion.

The woman observed his pathetic state, her expression one of cool annoyance. "Your tone when saying 'God' wasn't appropriate."

The man went still, paralyzed by the sheer absurdity of her reasoning. It was only in this moment that he truly understood the depth of her fanaticism; her God complex was far more volatile than his calculations had suggested.

Nevertheless, he had successfully piqued her curiosity. This time, she chose conversation over another execution. "You claimed the remains of the Heart of the Blood Palace are gone. Explain it."

Terrified of triggering another outburst, he spoke quickly. "Someone in the Outer Region already found the remains and used for themselves."

The woman remained silent for a long beat. When she finally responded, her voice emerged from behind the mask as a venomous, thin hiss. "Who?"

The notion that a person could actually utilize the shattered, ruined treasure defied her understanding of the artifact. To the cult, those fragments were precious due to their composition of corrupted blood. For anyone else, such shards should have been nothing but useless filth—a pile of debris that no sane cultivator could repurpose. "I can't say that." He exhaled a ragged breath, fully aware of the price of his defiance but choosing to pay it regardless.

Instantly, his body was obliterated. When he reformed a short distance away, he fell to his knees again, pulling air into his lungs in sharp, jagged gulps. His frame was wracked with involuntary tremors under the immense psychological and physical strain.

"And why is it that you can't tell me?" The woman watched him, showing no concern for the fact that he was on the verge of a total collapse. Her voice remained chillingly level.

"B-Because..." He struggled to find his voice between fits of coughing, praying she would stay her hand until he finished. "It's a name you can't bear."

He tensed, expecting the familiar pain of death and revival. To his relief, no explosion occurred.

Instead, the cult leader’s next inquiry was surprisingly calm, as if she had found his explanation acceptable. "What is your purpose?"

Surprised by this stroke of luck, the man didn't pause to analyze her logic. He simply lifted a trembling hand and pointed toward the group of robed figures standing in their defensive formation.

Her gaze followed his finger, and she quickly realized he wasn't pointing at her subordinates. He was gesturing toward the corpse resting in the blood pool behind them.

She waited in silence, a mixture of intrigue and simmering anticipation building within her.

"I will help you resurrect the Owner of the Scarlet Sea."

The name seemed to vibrate through the ritual grounds. Every robed follower, and the leader herself, reacted visibly. There were sharp intakes of breath and a subtle tightening of muscles—clear signs they were struggling to maintain their composure.

The shock didn't stem from the objective itself. Seeking the resurrection of a God was standard practice for dark organizations; many pursued such blasphemous ambitions. That part was expected.

What unsettled them was the specific title he used. It was a sacred honorific known only to their inner circle—the only name they dared use for their deity.

Hearing it from the mouth of an interloper felt like having their most intimate secret dragged into the light, raw and vulnerable.

"Who are you?" The cult leader’s voice turned sharp with suspicion. She realized now that this man was no ordinary intruder.

Witnessing their shock, the man felt a spark of his old confidence return. He regulated his breathing and straightened his posture, clinging to the last of his dignity. "I'm just a scientist who, with some luck, gained some knowledge about forgotten gods."

The smirk that followed had barely formed before his body was once again reduced to a cloud of blood, leaving only scattered remains and the fading echo of his words.

When he reappeared, looking utterly drained and broken, he spoke through gritted teeth. "W-wait... Stop it, or it will become really dangerous."

He extended his hand. Within his palm, an object resembling a key manifested. It was a vivid red, covered in throbbing veins that pulsed like a living organ.

"This is a treasure from the Corrupted King's collection. This item will assist you in completing the body needed for the Blood God to descend."

The key tore itself from his hand and zipped toward the cult leader, flying in a precise line as if drawn by a magnetic force.

She snatched it effortlessly. Her slender fingers, ending in long black nails, gripped the artifact as she inspected its properties to verify his claims. Her focus shifted to the glowing interface that only she could perceive.

[Name] Key of the Crimson Vault [Rank] 4

Description: Once, it served as the gate warden to the Corrupted King's most coveted treasures. Now it lingers as a diminished relic, a hungry wish-giver that will answer a desire of your choosing in exchange for a small sacrifice. Every wish it grants leaves a curse coiled around the one who dared to ask.

As she scanned the text, a faint shiver passed through her hand. Her deepest desires were stirred the moment she confirmed the relic’s authenticity.

The Corrupted King was the same entity who had created the Heart of the Blood Palace. Only those with profound knowledge of the ancient lore knew that the figure known to history as the Corrupted King would eventually ascend to become the Blood God.

Thus, the deity the cult worshipped and the creator of this treasure were the same being.

The fact that this was a Rank 4 treasure—a level that would incite greed even in Sages and those at the Nascent Soul or Demigod stage—made it more than just rare. To the cult, it was a holy grail.

With a relic forged from the Blood God’s own essence, they could finally finalize the vessel He would occupy upon His arrival. This was the missing piece of their grand design.

However, before proceeding, the leader asked the one question that remained. "Why do you want Him to descend?"

For those on the Blood Path, the motivation was self-evident. They desired a God to serve, and every atrocity committed here was a step toward that goal. This entire site was dedicated to His return.

The man before them, however, bore no marks of their path. With his polished appearance and casual demeanor, he looked like he belonged to a righteous Sect rather than a dark faction like theirs.