Cursed Immortality

Chapter 1186: A Mind like a Steel Trap! (2)

At that moment, the Coalition Master and the Myth of Oracle were completely frustrated and horrified about this sudden turn of events because they weren’t expecting this kind of trap set by an unknown enemy.

Furthermore, from the White Swordsman’s explanation, it was clear that the person responsible was none other than the last-standing myth of the Secret Fraternity.

Moreover, it seemed that the trap was designed to trigger right when the Coalition Master tried to take control of the Myth of White Swordsman’s mind, which meant that the person knew about what happened to the White Swordsman before, and maybe he was also no longer under the seal of the Coalition Master as well.

In this situation, the obvious choice would’ve been to abandon Coalition Pagoda and their hideout, especially for the Coalition Master, who didn’t want to be discovered or take risks.

But the problem was they could not abandon the protection of the Coalition Pagoda for reasons neither dared speak aloud, so all they could do was to prepare for the worst.

At least they wanted to see what kind of person they were dealing with and whether that person also knew the identity of the Coalition Master. But knowing some information about the Secret Fraternity, the chances were quite low.

Nonetheless, it still won’t change the fact that the other part has unknown profound means to even trick a Quasi-Myth like the White Swordsman, and used the Coalition Master’s maneuvers to trigger this trap.

At that moment, the White Swordsman’s withered body collapsed inward, his skin tore into ash, muscle dissolved into powder, and his dry, brittle skeleton emerged.

The next moment, his bones cracked and disintegrated into fine, glowing dust before every trace of his existence, his soul, magic, and law was erased.

However, instead of just perishing, everything was absorbed; drawn into the eye at the center of the runic circle.

The most unnerving part was that, from beginning to end, everything happened without a single scream or act of resistance from the White Swordsman, as his very existence was turned into a sacrifice for someone else’s plot.

It was a meaningless ending that the Myth of White Swordsman, who had been living for a long time, dreaded the most, and with this, his ambition to become a Mythical Being also ended!

When the final traces of the White Swordsman’s were absorbed, the runic circle blazed, creating a blinding white light that engulfed the entire third floor.

Even the Myth of Oracle shielded her perception, while the Coalition Master’s silhouette flickered violently as they knew whatever this runic circle’s purpose was, it was about to reach completion, and they couldn’t help but become agitated.

After a moment of silence, the brilliant light faded, and, surprisingly, the runic circle vanished with the ethereal dust; the final trace of White Swordsman’s existence was gone, leaving no residual aura. As if the Myth of White Swordsman had never existed.

However, at that moment, standing at the exact place where the Myth of White Swordsman had vanished was someone else.

He wore simple gray robes, almost plain compared to the grandeur of the Pagoda. The fabric seemed ordinary at first glance, yet faint ripples of spatial distortion shimmered along its edges, like heat haze bending the air.

His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as if he had merely stepped into a garden instead of the headquarters of belligerent Myths.

Moreover, he wasn’t hiding his face, which was refined, youthful, but not naïve. Sharp brows. Calm, observant eyes that held unsettling vertical dark pupils framed by a faint, nearly imperceptible silver ring. When he blinked, the surrounding mist quivered ever so slightly.

His skin carried a pale, cool undertone, almost translucent beneath the Pagoda’s glow. There was something subtly inhuman about the symmetry of his features, for they were too precise, too measured.

Even the way he breathed seemed synchronized with the fluctuations of space itself, and for a fleeting instant, behind his back, a phantom outline flickered; not wings or shadow. But something vast and coiled, its presence folding space inward like a predator wrapped around invisible dimensions before it was gone.

At that moment, he tilted his head slightly, looking around with undisguised curiosity as his gaze swept across the ethereal table, endless mist, and finally the towering throne.

”Hmm...” He softly hummed, as if genuinely impressed, ”So, this is the famed Coalition Pagoda...”

He lifted a hand, brushing lightly through the air, and the mist parted obediently around his fingers, spiraling in delicate arcs.

His expression brightened faintly, ”It’s more interesting up close.”

He looked every bit like a curious bumpkin who had wandered into a grand palace by accident; eyes filled with appreciation, demeanor relaxed, almost harmless.

But the atmosphere on the third floor had completely changed as the Coalition Master did not move, yet his aura thickened.

Space around his throne compacted layer upon layer, forming silent defensive barriers that stacked into unseen folds of space.

The Myth of Oracle had already retreated half a step as the pentagram on her mask spun rapidly, light flaring and dimming in chaotic pulses.

At that moment, her calculations were failing... again. Just as when she could not trace the origin of the runic circle. Now she could not determine who this mysterious man was or how he had entered, and lastly, she could not perceive the limits of this person’s strength.

At that moment, the Coalition Master’s voice finally descended, icy and wary, ”Who are you?”

The words did not crash like before as they were restrained and measured, making the gray-robed figure blink as if only just remembering he was not alone.

Unexpectedly, he smiled in a warm, harmless manner and even seemed almost embarrassed.

”Haha,” He chuckled lightly, scratching the back of his head as if realizing he had forgotten basic etiquette, ”I was admiring this place and forgot my manners.”

He straightened slightly as his dark eyes reflected the towering throne and the glowing pentagram mask, then spoke clearly, ”I’m Myth of Reverend!”