Chapter 606: Chapter 606: Hubbub (Thirty)_1 Chapter 606: Chapter 606: Hubbub (Thirty)_1 “`
Although the Divine Dragon Ya Yu remained elusive, the harvest so far was quite fruitful.
For instance, why the Beastly Disease appeared, Fu Qian had roughly guessed–it was to divert more Night Watchman’s manpower here.
The tumultuous tide capable of awakening Divine Beings, though initiated by ordinary people, truly tipped into a qualitative change under Valentine’s control, when he blew the horn for the second time.
The many Transcendents who had managed to keep their sanity didn’t last and were struck en masse, joining the ranks of those calling for the Divine Beings.
Among them, many were supposed to have been transferred from nearby to help investigate the Beastly Disease, just like Cassandra.
And there were Camus and Marco, who should have been among them. It seems that the formation of the tumultuous tide required the participation of numerous Transcendents, demigod and below.
This is the handiwork of Divine Beings, plain and simple!
Everything proceeded quietly, yet ingeniously fell into place.
The Night Watchman had clearly taken the situation very seriously, yet still suffered a major setback.
And his own previous actions, such as killing Marco and abandoning his post, must have delayed the formation of the tumultuous tide somewhat.
Unfortunately, it still seems far from enough.
The most critical point seems to be that under Ariel’s distortion, once Rom gained the upper hand in this contest of divine cognition, the tumultuous tide seemed like it would end immediately.
This point is utterly rogue, almost as if it’s watching and responding to his task execution.
Can’t you just enjoy your worshippers’ adoration a bit longer?
While grumbling to himself, Fu Qian spun a silver pistol in his hand.
This was Mercy, previously lost and retrieved by him using underwater tentacles.
As a hard-earned reward, it naturally couldn’t be treated as a disposable item.
He was actually a bit curious at the time, like what would happen if he didn’t retrieve it?
Would it stay at the bottom of the water? Or simply vanish?
Considering the inventory always had a program allowing him to choose his equipment, this was hard to determine.
Speaking of which, up to now, whether with skills or equipment, he had never encountered an overload in his setup.
Logically, the inventory wouldn’t go through such useless efforts, and Fu Qian pondered this for a long time, concluding that although the number of equipment and skills was increasing, his own growth in certain areas kept them from reaching the limit, resulting in this bug-like situation.
As for which areas of growth?
Rank is certainly one, but Fu Qian also thought of another possibility, which is an attribute he quickly maxed out–Inspiration.
If it’s really because of this, then the state in which he executed tasks each time is quite intriguing.
However, at least for now, it’s definitely good news, such as–Fu Qian’s gaze locked onto a half-meter-high iron cage.
Sweet Dream Cage, it’s your time to shine.
Though its distressing appearance draws attention, its biggest advantage lies in blocking gazes, and wearing it when necessary might have surprising effects.
After all, the last glance Rom gave him had cost a whole five SAN Points.
Holding the Sweet Dream Cage in hand, there was no prompt for carrying too many pieces of equipment, indeed.
[SAN Points decrease by 1, entering containment scenario.]
Fu Qian stood up contentedly and touched the illusory Mist Gate in the tides before him.
Baiting and switching is despicable, so he might as well help the Native Council pull off a real hunt!
“Your coffee and pastries, please enjoy.”
With the familiar voice, the substantial afternoon tea was placed again on the table before him.
Without putting the Headcage on the table, as previous experience showed that the mask could also shield the aura of the Transcendent items on his body.
He set it aside, not wanting to frighten Old Master Camus.
“`
Moreover, such a terrifying object on display might just end up getting a coffee pot flung at one’s face by a startled waitress.
“Hama~dus!”
The familiar roar soon followed, and the poor table immediately issued a painful moan as it adapted to the waitress rushing forth to join the dance.
Everything was identical to the last time, including Old Master Camus finishing his coffee and stepping forward to remove the mask from Fu Qian’s face.
But as their eyes met, the old man stiffened once again.
Even the degree of his rigidity had increased.
“Marco?”
In that moment, Old Master Camus’s voice sounded as if someone had stepped on his kidney.
Under the mask was a face exuding a strange, sinister aura.
“Surprised or not?”
Fu Qian, now with the appearance of Marco, looked at Old Master Camus with a smirk, his tone brimming with self-satisfaction.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve taken the lead once again.”
“…You’ve already become a Demigod!”
At such a close distance, plus their usual interactions, Camus could naturally sense the change in the other’s aura. Shocked and dismayed, his mood turned sour almost instantaneously.
“What is with that expression? Shouldn’t you be happy about the Council’s increase in power?”
Fu Qian’s smile did not diminish as he extended his empty hand.
Underneath the thin skin, it seemed as if countless tiny worms were wriggling, gathering at the tips of his fingers in the blink of an eye.
After a struggle, the tips of each finger were torn asunder, and five whip-like tendrils, twisted together like red worms, burrowed out and swayed and danced in the air.
“What are you doing here?”
Perceiving the phase that this scene represented, Camus’s complexion grew even darker. He seemed to have no desire to answer the question, asking directly instead.
“I’m here waiting for you, of course.”
Fu Qian made an exceedingly nasty smile but then immediately composed himself.
“The Night Watchman’s actions are somewhat unexpected. Veheler worries you might be dead, so he sent me to back you up.”
“Then we’d better hurry. The Night Watchman won’t take long to catch up,” Camus said stiffly. Even though the other was there to help him, the flaunting of his arch-enemy was hardly pleasing.
“Alright!”
Fu Qian made a move to rise, and the five tendrils in the air began to retract.
However, in the next moment, they did not completely withdraw into his hand, but with unbelievable speed, they suddenly seized Camus’s head.
“You–”
Camus could only utter a single word before his head was crushed like a tomato.
In the midst of the blood spray, a familiar, ethereal image ripped from his body, dashing outward like lightning.
Unfortunately, this last ditch effort to escape life was gobbled up by a ferocious, gaping maw in one swift motion.
The Fourth Phase Transcendent, Camus Grelada, thus perished without a sound.
“At last, I can somewhat compensate for my regrets,” Fu Qian sighed, lifting his coffee up and finishing it in one gulp, then biting into a scone.
The taste was indeed excellent; no wonder Old Master Camus chose to have his afternoon tea here.
The next moment, he bent down and retrieved a stack of bills and a talisman smeared with various oil paints from the headless corpse.