Not long ago, Bologue discovered that he had a special skill, which was that when he lied to the people around him, they would easily believe him.
No additional performance was needed, nor did he require seamless logic, he just had to maintain his usual deanor and speak to them. Just like last night when Palr questioned him.
Palr, startled awake in his sleep by a sinister force, felt a tug at his own umbilical link, as if the Devil were watching over him. It was indeed a test of Palr’s heart’s endurance.
After a brief panic, Palr sensed the source of the power and imdiately went next door, kicking open Bologue’s door, interrupting his reading, and questioned what Bologue was up to.
Bologue simply recounted the events of the night, being attacked by Ferguson and Brow, attributing the sinister force Palr sensed to his Blessing taking effect, healing his injuries.
Then...
Then Palr believed it.
Bologue summarized that this might stem from his perpetual expert stance. In the eyes of those around him, he was absolutely reliable and trustworthy, hence few would doubt what he said.
Their absolute trust in him made Bologue feel a bit uneasy for a mont, which further reinforced his narcissistic Savior ntality.
Bologue was well aware that he couldn’t betray such trust, so he never lied to the people around him... except for tis when it was necessary, where he would tell so inconsequential, benevolent lies.
Of course, to a large extent, Bologue was simply afraid of trouble.
Bologue could imagine, if he confessed to Palr that he was once again being targeted by a Devil, what Palr’s reaction would be.
He might scream, or nervously gear up, or even drive back to the Order Bureau overnight to squeeze into an employee dormitory.
So Bologue was too lazy to explain so much to Palr. Palr had already had a rough ti lately, it was better to let him live a peaceful life for a while.
Such things were best handled by Bologue himself.
With this thought, Bologue stopped and looked around.
The Field Operations Departnt’s area always seed deserted, completely different from the bustling Logistics Departnt. Bologue could only see a few employees moving about, and they soon disappeared from view.
Bologue did not imdiately return to Lebius’s office; going back now would surely an a heap of work waiting for him.
For example, the interrogation report sent back from the Crow’s Nest, details of on-site processing, oh, and the recovery of Alchemy Armant.
Last night at the subway station, when saying goodbye to Marion, Bologue specifically asked Marion to help retrieve the Phantom Dagger.
The downside of the Phantom Dagger was this: after each use, one had to find a way to recover it. If it was a short distance, Bologue could use the Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid to capture the Phantom Dagger for quick recovery, but if it was too far, even after the battle ended, it would be hard for Bologue to find it himself.
He wondered if the Sublimation Furnace Core departnt could help enhance this Alchemy Armant to overco this shortcoming.
Bologue thought Belli wouldn’t refuse his request, and even if she did, he could commission Aimou... just take her for dessert afterward.
However, Bologue didn’t have high hopes for this, because the ability of the Phantom Dagger involved mysterious pathways, disordered space that was so inscrutable, like a raging sea, that no one could ta it.
"Collector..."
Bologue closed his eyes, folding his arms, displaying a troubled look.
The Devil and Electric Guitar Operation Guide was filled with Nesanel’s knowledge of the Devil, which included a description of how the more painful, the stronger the Protection.
Chaos Rejoices.
In the book, Nesanel used this term to refer to that eerie Protection, though he did not specify its source.
Bologue felt that Nesanel should know who the Collector was. Besides the written text, Bologue also carefully observed the details on the book.
This book was entirely handwritten by Nesanel. Over the years, the handwriting had slightly changed, indicating that Nesanel wrote it while exploring the secrets of the Devil.
When writing about the Collector’s information, Nesanel might not have known its full picture at that ti, but over the years, Bologue believed Nesanel must have gained deeper understanding, which hadn’t been added to the book.
It was ti to et Nesanel again, though they had just t not long ago. Bologue stood up, took out the Special Operations Group’s insignia from his pocket, engraved with the twisted Rupert’s Tear.
To facilitate Bologue’s search for Nesanel, Nesanel granted him so privileges, such as the ability to directly contact this esteed Minister of External Affairs.
Bologue turned into the corridor, holding the insignia as he proceeded, according to what Nesanel taught him, advancing through the strange Cultivation Room.
After walking for a few minutes, Bologue stopped in confusion. According to Nesanel, the Cultivation Room should have opened a passage, directly leading him to Nesanel.
Unknowingly, Bologue had walked a great distance. Looking back, the long corridor stretched to the end, shrinking into a small dot indistinguishable to the naked eye, as did the path ahead.
He seed to be on an endless journey without a destination or a start.
Bologue felt sothing was amiss, but still bravely moved forward. Here was the Cultivation Room, the Order Bureau’s headquarters, and there was no way he would encounter danger here, right?
As this thought flashed through his mind, Bologue suddenly rembered the rumors circulating within the Order Bureau.
During the secret war, Overlord Xilin severely damaged the Cultivation Room, causing the infinite expansion of the Void Realm to beco disordered, with so areas falling into chaotic overgrowth, like a self-altering labyrinth. To prevent the spread of this disaster, the Order Bureau isolated these areas from the normal Void Realm.
Ruins District.
After the secret war, when referring to that chaotic Void Realm space, the Order Bureau’s employees used this term to describe it.
Overlord Xilin destroyed several sections within the Order Bureau, turning them into what we know now as the Ruins District, with what once was the Sublimation Furnace Core being one of them.
Post-war, the Sublimation Furnace Core began reconstruction work, and while reconstructing, the Alchemists spent most of their ti revolving around the Ruins District.
Many important assets of the Sublimation Furnace Core were lost within the Ruins District. They often ford expeditions to delve into the Ruins District for excavation.
The uncontrolled Ruins District housed nurous dangers, often resulting in casualties, which was why Belli once asked Bologue to take a walk through the Ruins District, but Bologue righteously refused.
Over the years, efforts regarding the Ruins District have never stopped, resembling a pathological part of the Cultivation Room, and the Alchemists have been temporarily unable to completely sever it from the Cultivation Room, only striving to stabilize it to prevent further spread.
All areas bordering the Ruins District are strictly controlled. Employees see the warning signs well before approaching.
Ever since the Ruins District was ford, a strange tale spread within the Order Bureau. So said the distortion of the Ruins District had indeed spread into the Cultivation Room, but this information was sealed in the Decision Room. In reality, many employees had already disappeared in the vast Cultivation Room due to spatial distortion.
Most employees regarded this tale as a joke, though so didn’t buy into it, they remained vigilant of the Cultivation Room, like Palr.
According to Palr, the Cultivation Room was alive, possessing life, but a form of life not comprehended by humans.
Living long-term in the Cultivation Room was like residing inside the belly of a monster. You never knew if it protected you or considered you preserved food.
Bologue’s pace gradually accelerated, his eyes flickering with the light of Ether, increasing his speed as a gust of wind. Yet, no matter how quickly Bologue sped forward, the hallway continued to stretch indefinitely as if it had no end.
Strange tales... Bologue complained inwardly about his paranoia. After experiencing so much on the bewildering paths and knowing about the existence of the Tyrant, he should have realized this.
Those strange tales that no one believed were often true.
The end of the corridor began to distort and collapse, the smooth stone shattering, with endless darkness flowing through the broken gaps.
Bologue stood at this broken path’s edge, observing nurous safety passage signs piled chaotically around.
Underneath the plastic casing, green lights flickered, with white figures making running gestures.
Nurous white figures ran in one direction, fleeing danger, advancing toward a safe area...
They were running behind Bologue.
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