Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Chapter 1324: Chapter 1322: Flesh Erosion by Emptiness

In fact, the Dark Moon existed for only the span of a single breath.

By the time the icy veil, along with everything within it, had utterly withered and shattered, it had already silently vanished.

This peak eruption under the Burning Frost Effect was undoubtedly far more dazzling and ethereal than the original version, but its brutality had not diminished in the slightest.

Under the surging tide of mist, the abandoned pawns had already packed tightly around the square, faintly resembling walls of flesh and blood.

Hissing, wailing, sobbing, even the cries of infants—every kind of bizarre sound seized and chilled the soul.

Yet whether armor, chunks of flesh, or even Harriet herself charging forward from behind, they were utterly defenseless against that horrific slicing force.

A rounded, seemingly perfect spherical interior wall was forcibly carved out of the circle of flesh and blood.

Amid the flowing wreckage and remains, not a single shard larger than a fingernail could be found.

Throughout this feat, Fu Qian never once looked at his surroundings, gazing upward at the Dark Moon the entire time, until it completely disappeared.

There was no sound, no gaze, nothing at all—except the palpable sense of its radiance resonating with the Stars Association.

…

A project squeezed to its absolute limits finally yielded results, though it seemed undeniably the worst possible outcome.

The Stars worshipped by the Sect were real, and the Dark Moon similarly concealed itself within this reality.

Fu Qian hadn’t mistakenly stumbled into a nightmare; it was simply that what he sought had already withered away completely from this world.

Of course, certain crucial points still required corroboration from his collaborators.

This didn’t waste time, because along with the curtain’s shattering, the space within its coverage was also ruptured.

Though it seemed to hold nothing, the gray-white frost fissures grew rampant within, ultimately tearing apart fragments of nothingness, which devoured the mangled remnants of the abandoned pawns and the spectators near the steps.

Under Fu Qian’s relentless extraction, the dreamscape’s stability finally reached its limit and collapsed with a thunderous crash.

The surging mist tides no longer had any chance to consume the small sanctuary, though in the next moment, the scene before them remained enveloped in gray-white hues.

…

One minute—that was truly stretched to the breaking point.

Consciousness returning, the outside world began to move once more.

Fu Qian glanced at the faintly discernible ruins, then inspected himself amidst his silent admiration, checking to confirm that his expensive attire was perfectly intact.

Unquestionably, Amila and her two companions were also standing nearby.

Almost every one of them was breathing heavily, some even opening their eyes to look at him afterward.

“Seems like our lesson has come to an end. Did you learn anything?”

To match the mood, Fu Qian casually administered an impromptu quiz.

“What was all of that just now?”

Regrettably, the trainees weren’t particularly cooperative.

None of them responded, and while Reginald checked his leg, Amila couldn’t help but be the first to ask a question.

“Are you certain? We’ve been talking about this all along.”

Fu Qian frowned as he listened.

“…The Dark Moon?”

With this hint, Amila immediately grasped the concept, but instinctively resisted that answer.

“Impossible! It truly exists… and it’s eroding the dreamscape in this way?”

“Are you sure you want to use the word ‘eroding’ for this?”

Fu Qian gestured around with a sardonic smirk.

“I don’t believe you didn’t notice—the light here is far dimmer than it was moments ago.”

He wasn’t speaking nonsense; though Fu Qian was certain only a single minute had passed in the outside world, the visibility within the thick mist had plummeted dramatically.

It was as if day had turned abruptly into night.

Even though the Dark Moon had flashed and vanished, the nightmare’s final scene seemed to have been impossibly woven into reality.

In other words, under its cosmic influence, time had shifted from dawn to night in an instant.

From Fu Qian’s perspective, the heavy breaths from his teammates just now were very likely due to noticing this.

…

Sure enough, faced with his question, Amila fell silent instantly.

Her face clearly lacked the audacity to lie with eyes wide open.

Her special connection to the Stars meant she was fully aware that what lay ahead wasn’t simply a case of diminished light.

But truly admitting to something as outrageous as nightfall in one second would make this level of influence impossible to explain away as a mere instance of the Dark Moon eroding the nightmare.

“Seems this question is still a bit too difficult for you all.”

In this scenario, Fu Qian sighed and shook his head, no longer forcing the point.

“Let’s hear what someone else has to say, then.”

“You apparently haven’t figured out your own situation yet.”

By this point, having confirmed his legs were intact, Reginald finally couldn’t stand Fu Qian’s wild ramblings anymore and issued a cold reminder.

“Don’t think for a second this is over, and that you can just go home.”

However, while giving the warning, Reginald remained in a state of hyper-vigilance.

Despite Fu Qian’s madness, his performance throughout had been nothing short of terrifying.

Especially the final scene, that merciless butchering force which paid no heed to resistance—the grotesque carving of blood and flesh—the sheer visual impact was indescribable.

Unfortunately, neither the warning nor the heightened alert seemed to provoke any emotional response from Fu Qian.

In the next moment, Fu Qian’s glance swept across Simon, as though he’d lost interest entirely in addressing this dull-witted team, and turned his attention back to the nearby remnants.

This time, there really was someone else…

Involuntarily following Fu Qian’s gaze, Amila was stunned to see a figure emerging from the ruins, particularly one wearing an unmistakable gilded shoulder cloak.

…

“Mr. Anke, I believe we have much to discuss.”

The newcomer was a solemn-faced middle-aged woman, who didn’t even spare a glance at Amila or the others as she made her way straight toward Fu Qian.

Undoubtedly, this was the same person who’d been watching them since earlier.

“Very well.”

With a polite smile and nod, Fu Qian studied her and readily agreed.

Compared to Amila’s group, the intricate patterns on this shoulder cloak were clearly more ornate, even the robe was dyed in a shade resembling night, exuding an air of mystery and majesty.

Such bearing could only signify someone from the legendary Coordinating Law Sanctuary.

“So, will Lord Praut be joining us in this exchange?”

“…I’ll take you to him now.”

The Lady of the Holy Hall didn’t seem surprised by Fu Qian’s question.

As she spoke, she finally glanced at Amila and the others, her gaze ultimately resting briefly on Simon.

“You’ve worked hard.”

With a slight nod of acknowledgment, she promptly led the way toward the direction of the town.

Only this time, there was no scene of sudden enlightenment awaiting them.

Following the broken path, they arrived at the completely decayed main gate, surrounded still by thick mist.

And upon entering the remnants of the former town, broken walls and ruins lay everywhere, shrouded in darkness like a ghostly domain—the exact setting Amila had previously described.

The oppressive atmosphere was considerable, yet the Lady of the Holy Hall showed no inclination to offer any explanations, leading them swiftly through the area until they reached a familiar square.

Across the square, the small sanctuary that had once served as their last refuge was now so decayed it resembled little of its original form.

Within the ruins, the most striking sight was a group of figures clad in garments matching the Lady’s attire.