CDJMM – Volume 5 -Chapter 19 Civilization Rescue Team (19)

At this moment, the Northern Hemisphere was in its summer half-year, while Antarctica was deep in polar night. The pitch-black night clouds blotted out even the faintest trace of daylight. Black mist churned across the ground, and countless evil eyes flickered in and out of existence. Clawing tentacles twisted wildly, and the mouths of the monstrous abominations emitted shrill, frenzied, wicked laughter—a scene more terrifying than anything even humanity’s worst nightmares could imagine.

H. P. Lovecraft once described an eldritch deity in The Call of Cthulhu: “Words cannot describe that thing; no language can depict an abyss of such screaming, ancient madness. That horror violated all laws of matter, energy, and cosmic order.”

It was the Unknown, the incarnation of Desire, the primordial Abyss of Hell, the nightmare humanity could never escape.

And right now, Le Jing had merged with It, becoming part of the Supreme Mother Goddess—about to become the womb from which Its children would be born.

Xingxiu gazed downward with fervent longing, his eyes fixed upon that faint, fragile flame of a soul.

In a whisper, he murmured to himself: “…I won’t let anyone disturb your ascension ritual.”

He waved his hand, merging the entire battle into a three-dimensional holographic animation and casting it into the sky.

“Let me give you a helping hand.”

“Delay the nuclear launch. The troops are to remain on standby.”

Such was the command received from above.

The commander frowned. A soldier obeys orders; he would not question them. But he still found it strange.

Mr. Jing was dead, the eldritch god could break through the blockade at any moment and descend upon human cities. Every minute of delay increased the danger.

Suddenly a loud commotion erupted outside—many soldiers shouting at once.

The commander shoved open the door impatiently. “What are you all yelling about?!”

“General—look at the sky!”

The sky? The commander looked up suspiciously—and then his jaw dropped.

“…Fuck.”

Suspended against the pitch-black firmament was a massive screen of light. Shadows danced on its surface, displaying a grotesque, twisted, horrifying scene.

A monster covered in countless eyes extended masses of tangled tentacles, weaving together to form a massive black cocoon.

The cocoon rose and fell as though breathing, as if something would break free at any moment and be born into the world.

Then the image flickered. The black cocoon turned translucent—revealing what lay within.

A human curled tightly within, eyes half-closed, expression pained yet seemingly euphoric, chest rising and falling lightly, as though trapped in a terrible dream.

That human had a face known to every person on Earth—fair skin, refined and gentle features, the scholarly air of a learned man.

“It’s Mr. Jing!”

“Why is there a projection of Mr. Jing in the sky?”

“He’s breathing—he’s not dead!”

“That monster—is that the eldritch god?”

“Didn’t they say eldritch gods can’t be looked at directly? Then why can we see it?”

As if answering their doubts, a calm youthful voice echoed across heaven and earth:

“This is a reconstructed animation based on the battlefield situation. Jing is dead, but the battle’s outcome is still unknown.”

“Because Jing has not been fully absorbed, the Supreme Mother Goddess will not leave Antarctica yet.”

“When He resurrects, humanity will win its final victory.”

The commander spun around, shouting in alarm: “Who are you?! Where are you?! Show yourself!”

No one answered. The voice that had suddenly appeared vanished just as abruptly.

All around the world, humans lifted their heads—staring at the sky-borne screen.

China:

Bai Wei stared up at the screen, tears streaming down her face without her realizing it.

“Live!” she screamed hoarsely to the sky. “You must live!”

Ji Heguang used the last of his strength to roar upward: “Do you hear me?! We’re waiting for you at home! You must come back alive!”

A surge of vitality erupted in the elderly Li Jingwen’s frail body. The rage in her heart finally found an outlet as she bellowed like a lion: “You are Mr. Jing! You absolutely cannot bow to that disgusting monster!”

Her young grandson screamed: “Mr. Jing, go! You’re the strongest!”

At the same time, the people of America, France, Italy, Spain, Finland… countless nations shouted Jing’s name in different languages—cheering him on.

“Stay alive!”

“You must not lose!”

Brilliant streams of belief and conviction burst from every human body, converging into the pitch-black Antarctic sky. In the sunless eternal night, they formed a dazzling waterfall brighter than the Milky Way itself, pouring down from the heavens—slowly merging into the great black cocoon.

Amid the extreme, nearly painful bliss, a sudden moment of clarity flashed across Le Jing’s mind. Then warmth—soft, gentle warmth—spread through him, dispersing the madness and agony. In the chaos of his thoughts, figures began to appear.

He was Dante wandering through Hell.
He was Homer who penned epic poetry.
He was Confucius and Mencius, who sacrificed themselves for righteousness.
He was Zhuangzi, free and unbound in the Nine Heavens.
He was Copernicus on the stake.
He was Mother Teresa, the savior of the suffering.
He was Joan of Arc, unyielding unto death.
He was all the immortal sages of humanity.

He was also the barefoot doctor saving lives.
The soldier standing tall in wartime.
The magistrate opening grain stores during famine.
The Robin Hoods upholding justice.
The nameless, faceless people who built the prosperity of every era.
He was you, me, him—every small, ordinary person.

They were the brilliance of humanity—the highest glow of human nature.

Evil was vast and despairing. But love was just as vast—full of hope.

Where there was light, there was shadow. Where there was good, there was evil.

One thought could turn a man into a Buddha.

One thought could turn him into a demon.

Together, these complexities formed the grey world.

Endless energy flowed into Le Jing’s soul, washing away all pain, bringing clarity and peace.

The energy slowly condensed into a human shape—solidifying into Le Jing’s new body.

A body born of humanity’s sincere prayers, the embodiment of light, the bane of all evil—unyielding, eternal.

A profound aura rippled from the black cocoon. Shub-Niggurath’s body shuddered, letting out a muffled roar of frustration.

Xingxiu’s lips curled upward slightly. “…It worked.”

The next moment, the black cocoon shattered into drifting ash. A young man in white robes stepped out, smiling softly.

How could one describe him?

No words were worthy.

No myth or epic could recreate even a fraction of his radiance.

He was radiance itself—born in answer to the call of billions of humans.

Thus, he became Him.

Le Jing had been powerful before, but that power was only of the soul. His human body—born of a mortal mother—had never been a match for Shub-Niggurath.

So Xingxiu chose to kill Le Jing—and then revive him through the world’s collective faith.

This was the true God-Creation Plan.

The newly born god named Jing—born from humanity’s prayers—was destined to be the defender of human civilization, the sharpest spear in humanity’s war against the gods.

For the first time, Le Jing saw the world with perfect clarity.

He saw stars billions of light-years away.
He saw the laws of Earth’s rotation.
He saw all the mysteries of the world.
He saw the molten heart beneath Earth’s crust.
He saw the entire life of a beetle in the Arctic.

He smiled at the strangeness of these new sensations.

Then he turned serenely toward Shub-Niggurath. Her grotesque form no longer stirred even a ripple in his heart.

Softly, he said: “Leave.”

Shub-Niggurath shrieked in fury. Black mist dissolved rapidly; tentacles flailed wildly. Even the dense masses of black goat offspring trembled, letting out cries of fear.

“Earth is forbidden to eldritch gods.”

The moment Jing spoke, it became law.

After one final agonized scream, Shub-Niggurath’s massive body shrank rapidly—like snow melting under sunlight—until she was no larger than a human child.

【One day, I will rise again and rule this land. Humanity can never escape me!】

The god of humanity replied calmly: “As long as I live, you won’t.”

Shub-Niggurath vanished.

Only the ravaged ice bore witness to what had occurred.

Amid countless gazes of awe and joy, the newborn god extended a hand toward the childlike figure floating in the air.

“Come back.”

Xingxiu smiled faintly—and dissolved into light, merging into Le Jing’s body, just as he would for countless ages to come.

In the moment of becoming a god, Le Jing understood all past and future, all cause and effect.

He was the Civilization Rescue Team. Xingxiu was his avatar—the future Him, sent to guide his younger self toward godhood.

He also saw His end.

In an immeasurably distant future, He would face the inevitable end together with humanity.

But until then, He would accompany humanity through nearly eternal ages.

He would remain with human civilization.

【THE END】