A higher-dimensional incarnation, starting by leveraging the stars.

Chapter 37 God's Words...

Sowin woke up to a sharp ringing in his ears.

The first sensation to return was pain: a dull ache from the metal constriction in his wrists and ankles, followed by a persistent throbbing pain from the blow to the back of his head. He struggled to open his eyes, his vision blurry for a while before gradually clearing.

It was a small, windowless room with rough cement walls. The only light source was a glaring LED light overhead. He was strapped to a heavy iron chair, his wrists and ankles secured to the armrests with thick metal rings. The room was about four square meters and contained nothing but a simple wooden table and two chairs.

The door opened.

Wu Jueming walked in, followed by two soldiers carrying automatic rifles. The scar on his face, running from his brow bone to his jaw, looked particularly gruesome under the light. He dragged a chair over and sat down opposite Suowen, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and slowly lit it.

"Patriarch Sowin," he exhaled a smoke ring, "or should I call you Sowinnai? The Third District Police Station in Sunlight City has your file—a thug, now a spokesperson for God?"

Sowin did not answer. He closed his eyes, his lips moved slightly, and he began to pray silently.

"I'm talking to you!" Wu Jueming slammed his hand on the table, flicking cigarette ash onto it.

Sowin opened his eyes, glanced at him with an eerily calm expression, then closed them again and began to pray.

Wu Jueming was stunned for a moment, his face showing anger at being ignored. He leaned closer to Suowen, the smell of smoke mixed with bad breath hitting him. "Tell me, what exactly is your cult up to? What are those so-called miracles and divine graces?"

Sowen closed his eyes and remained silent.

"Damn it!" Wu Jueming stood up and gestured to the soldiers behind him. One of the soldiers brought a black box from the corner of the wall. When he opened it, a simple but practical set of interrogation tools was revealed: an electric shock device, pliers, a syringe, and some metal instruments that Suo Wen could not recognize.

"My patience is limited." Wu Jueming picked up the stun gun, pressed the switch, and blue arcs crackled between the electrodes. "Tell me the secrets of your cult, and who are the people behind you?" He paused, "What exactly did those who claim to have witnessed 'miracles' see?"

Sowin did not respond, but continued to murmur his prayers.

Meanwhile, Jiangcheng University Library

Hu Biao was engrossed in Chapter 7 of "Introduction to Planetary Atmospheric Chemistry," trying to understand the vertical structure model of Venus's sulfuric acid clouds. His mind was immersed in a series of complex chemical equations and atmospheric dynamic models, and his left hand unconsciously twirled a pen.

Just then, a strange feeling flashed through my mind.

It was like a shout from afar, or a ripple spreading across the water. He subconsciously looked up, and the words on the book in front of him began to blur and distort, replaced by a picture.

A dimly lit room, a man tied to an iron chair, an interrogator with a scarred face, and tools gleaming coldly on the table.

"System notification?" Hu Biao's heart skipped a beat.

This wasn't a higher-dimensional vision he had actively activated; rather, it was an alert automatically pushed by the Third Civilization Relics System. He recognized the man in the image—it was Sowin, the patriarch he had casually designated.

Hu Biao frowned.

In the past, he wouldn't have bothered with it. This guy who created the Primal Ritual had done him a great favor. After all, if it weren't for him, he wouldn't have been able to contact the temple of the Third Civilization, nor would he have been able to obtain knowledge related to mental power. In that sense, he was still somewhat useful. More importantly, because of the temple's problems, he still had many things that he needed this Sowin to do. Therefore, he couldn't afford to get into trouble now.

"Something's not right with these guys!"

With that in mind, he switched to a higher-dimensional perspective and, based on the beacon on Sowin's body, quickly located Sowin's location, which was a manor in the heart of Southeast Asia.

The manor was heavily guarded, with armed guards patrolling openly and surveillance cameras everywhere. Snipers were also lurking in key high places. This was not the kind of security that ordinary kidnappers would have.

Then, in a room in the manor with a large screen, he saw two people, and his eyebrows involuntarily rose slightly.

"Commissioner Smith, you've really stretched your reach far enough!" Hu Biao thought to himself, his eyes turning cold. He gathered the books on his desk and returned to his dormitory.

Interrogation room, ten minutes later

Wu Jueming's patience has run out.

The stun gun left two charred marks on Sowin's chest, and sweat soaked through his simple linen robe, but his lips were still moving, and his prayers never stopped.

"Last chance." Wu Jueming wiped the sweat from his forehead. For some reason, the air in the room seemed to stagnate, making it hard to breathe. "Damn it, he's really stubborn. What kind of ability does your judge have to make someone like you so devoted? I don't believe it..."

"You will believe." Soe Win, who had been praying in a low voice, suddenly looked up at Wu Jueming. His gaze made Wu Jueming, who was in a dominant position, feel a little uneasy. It was a kind of calm that was almost crazy.

"You'll believe it soon."

The words were spoken with such certainty that a chill suddenly ran down Wu Jueming's spine.

"You..." Wu Jueming took a half step back and reached for the gun at his waist.

A strange smile curved the corners of Sowin's mouth. He didn't look at Wu Jueming, but instead raised his head to look at the almost invisible miniature camera in the corner of the wall.

monitoring room

Wu Tunji and William Tam stood side by side in front of the screen.

There were also three technicians and four fully armed bodyguards in the room—two of Wu Tunji's personal guards and two brought by William. Everyone was glued to the six split-screen displays, showing real-time surveillance of the interrogation room, the manor entrance, the courtyard, and several key corridors.

"He's watching us," William said softly, a hint of uncertainty in his voice for the first time.

Wu Tunji's face was grim. The interrogation had been going on for forty minutes, and Suowen hadn't uttered a single word except for prayers. He hadn't screamed or begged for mercy; only when he convulsed from the electric shocks would his low prayers occasionally break the silence.

This is not normal.

"Have the medical examination results come out yet?" William asked a technician behind him.

"It's out, sir." The technician quickly reviewed the data on the tablet. "Target male, 30 years old, 1.72 meters tall, 61 kilograms. Blood pressure, heart rate, and blood routine are all within the normal range, with no drug residue or metabolic abnormalities. The MRI shows normal brain structure, with no tumors or damage. In short... he's a perfectly healthy ordinary person."

"Completely healthy?" William repeated the word, his brow furrowed.

On the screen, Wu Jueming, who had taken a half step back, felt a sense of unease. At the same time, he also felt somewhat embarrassed for retreating, and his face contorted into a ferocious expression as he raised the stun gun...

Then, his hand stopped in mid-air...

He froze completely, and then began to disappear.

It wasn't a slow disappearance, but rather like being erased from reality by some invisible eraser. Starting from his fingertips, then his arms, torso, head, and finally his entire body, including the stun gun in his hand, it vanished completely from the interrogation room in less than two seconds.