Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Chapter 2400: Chapter 2395: The Prophet Is Dead (6)

The Lord has already departed.

Decisive people are decisive in whatever they do, like the relentless series of attacks earlier without wasting a single expression, and like the decisive way of making an exit now.

Fu Qian is fairly certain, when the Meteor fell earlier, the transformation that occurred at the Lord’s original location was not a mere act of concealment.

It was a state transformation akin to the previous ambush techniques, allowing him to enter the situation with his body, confuse others into thinking he remained within the attack range, yet still remain unharmed.

Actually, Fu Qian used to employ similar methods as well, such as Blood Conquest, which is a more advanced version.

What a pity that the ring can neither be brought in now nor used.

In any case, the Lord was not only decisive but had already made thorough preparations, just waiting to clear the battlefield and finish off the remnants once the final strike landed.

Alas, after witnessing the effect of the final strike, he clearly realized the futility and meaninglessness of life and left directly in a manner comparable to entering a religious retreat.

Though there was really no need to be so tense, as Fu Qian wasn’t planning to keep him here anyway.

Regardless of his sociability, from Ballard’s previous words, the Lord does seem to have some kindred spirits.

Presumably, there are people who have ways to help propagate the fame of the Grand Fate Ming Emperor.

...

This task is quite off.

Not due to being overly anomalous, but rather overly normal.

Indeed, though ”the Prophet is dead,” in Fu Qian’s view, the current Unseen Hillock is far from being troublesome enough to warrant another intervention by the warehouse.

There’s no catastrophic disaster, nor signs of the previous ”flame,” in fact, everything seems to be progressing towards the envisioned ”beautiful new era” after the last task ended.

Souls are freed from the fate of ashes, welcoming infinite possibilities.

In such circumstances, the Prophet’s power shouldn’t be very useful anymore, but the direct scale of death is somewhat larger.

Most critically, what is one here to do?

On this question, the warehouse has not fulfilled its duty to promptly provide a hint.

Added to this is the previous task’s experience, which includes the risk of assimilation from prolonged stay in this place.

Ultimately, from Fu Qian’s perspective, slow and steady is no longer a good option; might as well return with a bit of flair this time.

There’s already the Lord here to help with the promotion, as for the other side—

”If you don’t mind, let’s hurry a bit, let’s leave here first.”

With a word of reminder to the thing tangled around him, Fu Qian raises his eyes to survey the surroundings.

The commotion earlier was indeed a bit large, after the dust settles, distant onlookers are growing more numerous.

”Very well, then let me choose a spot.”

Amidst the observation, Fu Qian clearly feels the black fluid tightening more snugly around his body, with no lively parts visible on the ground, responding to the earlier suggestion, though the pungent smell becomes more concentrated.

In the next moment, he doesn’t delay further, the tentacles overhead retreat swiftly at last.

By the time they converge, the space below is already empty.

...

”Are you satisfied with this place? I imagine you might prefer it quieter.”

Without much interval, as Fu Qian sits down, he voices a call again, confirming the passenger’s opinion.

The seat is soft, the view expansive, during the day, this place is evidently decent.

Even without lights at the moment, amidst the concealment it still doesn’t feel too confined.

For a participant potentially needing emotional solace, Fu Qian thinks this is a decent choice.

”Here it is then? We should have some time, after calming down, let me know if you recall anything.”

Absent a rebuttal, Fu Qian is quite satisfied, leaning back leisurely on the comfortable seat, lightly tapping the tabletop with his hand.

For that layer of enveloping black fluid, now nearly his whole body is clad as if in black leather, the arm included.

What a pity, the crab cakes from last time were quite good, but now it’s inconveniently past closing time and folks have gone home.

Indeed, this is actually an old spot.

The place visited twice during a previous task, where Ballard and Akasha were first met.

A short effort and Fu Qian found the place.

The experiences along the way further verified the earlier speculation, there were no signs of shocking destruction, the Unseen Hillock still appears as it once did.

Even from the lingering smell, the operation of this shop seems to remain good.

As for why it’s known to be past dinner time, yet still a visit is made here—

”You... are... who...?”

Not much time has passed, yet in the silent darkness, Fu Qian indeed awaited a voice.

Though deep and hoarse, unlike human, and with inquiry content of little substance.

”Who are you?”

But it doesn’t matter, this is already a substantial progress.

Fu Qian patiently responds with a slight guide.

”I am...”

The voice seems not particularly stubborn, almost instantly accepting the hint.

Again, from the chest, a hoarse voice transpires, as though it’s sinking in thought.

”I remembered, I am not a monster, my name is... Catherine.”

Upon another patient wait, a certain moment arrives where it finally awakens as if from a dream.

...

Perhaps ”her” would be more appropriate.

Indeed, Fu Qian chose this place not just for its atmosphere and flavors, with an additional hoped-for effect of aiding with the passenger’s nostalgia.

Casually letting the Lord leave, for sure it’s not without reason, while the Lord was unsure what this entity was, Fu Qian had some certainty.

Catherine, Mid-level Extraordinary, Akasha the Spider Queen’s Blood Slave, imprisoned to serve as a waiter in this restaurant for when her flavors are to be savored.

In false history had once helped to order a meal, and performed live a grand act of swallowing people whole.

The form then was a mass of black fluid with gleaming white teeth.

Though Unseen Hillock harbors many similar appearances such as liquid expelled from the Clown’s fallen body or the Lake Sage resembling a giant tongue.

But don’t forget to employ discernment through sight, smell, questioning, and touching, which narrows down to an inclination through that unique scent.

So it was almost as soon as the midnight carriage began its devouring; Fu Qian was already suspecting its origins and even why it turned into this state.

Judgment at the time from Akasha’s reaction, even in actual history, Catherine should have undergone madness and ended up slain by Ballard.

On one hand, the will of Unseen Hillock doesn’t truly die, while its returning method remains unpredictable.

If Akasha could wake from another’s body, Catherine turning into a monster that knows only mimicry and consumption doesn’t seem too strange, does it?

The main reason for bringing her here this time is to see if the guess was correct and if there’s a possibility to help awaken her a bit.