Chapter 1329: Chapter 1327: Night Visit to the Vampire (Part 2)
Fu Qian’s recent actions were actually quite simple—two consecutive Clear Dream Rings.
The legendary Coordinating Law Sanctuary was evidently not fad for nothing; compared to Amila and the others, the Lady of the Holy Hall escorting him was far sharper.
After confirming that the opponent could even detect traces of Blood Conquest’s activation, Fu Qian refrained from hastily deploying the Clear Dream Ring.
Naturally, he also held back on resorting to brute force.
This gathering welcod dignitaries from far and wide—an overly simplistic and crude infiltration thod would hardly befit the majesty of Dark Moon.
Ultimately, this cooperation extended seamlessly until he was escorted into the prison cell.
After the Lady of the Holy Hall finished her mocking remarks and sealed the door, Fu Qian silently took advantage of her montary satisfaction and relaxation to invite her into a dream.
The rule for ending the dream was simple—she rely had to believe the person inside the cell was no longer there.
…
It turned out that, despite her outward disdain, her earlier encounter with Fu Qian had left a considerable psychological shadow.
Within less than a minute, and devoid of any semblance of logical rationale, the Lady of the Holy Hall had already accepted this conclusion.
Upon her return from the dream, she rushed to confirm by unlocking the door in her haste.
What greeted her was the torrent of Decree Residue, along with another surge that reactivated the Clear Dream Ring.
With heightened vigilance, pulling soone back into a dream would undoubtedly beco far more arduous. Therefore, Fu Qian employed a classic intelligence-reducing sleep-induction sequence.
Thanks to prior groundwork, the visual impact of the Decree Residue appeared less abrupt.
Fu Qian even set an ending rule that posed no excessive difficulty for her—his approach was subtle and unobtrusive to the utmost degree.
The ultimate result was that the Lady of the Holy Hall unlocked the law-forged cell she had sealed, unwittingly releasing the Nightmare-walking Dark Moon Apostle.
…
When Fu Qian stepped onto the first stair, the Lady of the Holy Hall had returned to reality for the second ti.
And—true to her reputation—she maintained a certain level of composure.
She neither scread in terror nor frantically searched the area.
After freezing for several seconds, she gritted her teeth, “locked” the door once more, and dashed off like the wind in a particular direction.
This response was undeniably rational. Soone capable of slipping away right under her nose couldn’t possibly be tracked down through blind searching.
By locking the door to prevent minute chances of deception and imdiately notifying her superiors, she ensured the most efficient and prudent course of action.
It was a courageous acceptance of accountability.
Undoubtedly the conduct of soone from a reputed sect.
Silently admiring her resolve, Fu Qian ascended the staircase with equal grace.
The wooden stairs, despite their ancient years, made no sound beneath his steps.
As he moved, his body and face subtly transford.
Scarlet eyes, pallid skin—by the ti he reached the next floor, Fu Qian had fully taken on Herbert’s appearance.
Without pausing his stride, he extended his hand to pull down a night-sky-colored curtain. He tied it effortlessly and draped it around himself.
On one hand, Herbert’s larger stature made Anke’s formal suit ill-fitting.
On the other hand, Fu Qian’s body swelled abruptly as the Brilliant Tyrant surged forth.
…
For a fleeting mont, the carpet beneath him felt softer than before.
Noticing this subtle shift, Fu Qian didn’t lower his gaze; instead, he adjusted his cloak and maintained his pace as he ascended another flight of stairs.
The old building was undeniably tall.
As he climbed, the surroundings grew increasingly quiet.
This silence did not imply he was less likely to be discovered.
As worshippers of the Stars Association, the higher levels of the cathedral represented their esteed connection to the cosmos. The few traces of human presence in these parts were undoubtedly individuals on par with the Lady of the Holy Hall.
Thus far, he was passing through sections deed the Sect’s forbidden sanctum.
Even if he remained unnoticed now, news of a missing prisoner would surely spread, triggering an all-encompassing lockdown of the structure. Such complications would multiply further.
But none of that mattered.
On the night of the full moon, atop the Summit of the Cathedral.
Fu Qian was confident in his eting location assessnt.
Those self-satisfied vampires made their taste all too easy to deduce.
What place other than the highest peak could grant them the revelry of looking down on everyone as re ants?
The increasingly plush carpet seed to affirm his assumptions.
Ascending yet another tier, Fu Qian noticed a figure at the end of the corridor.
…
“Herbert?”
With a face lined by wrinkles, dressed in casual attire, and wearing a distinctly styled hat.
Standing there in utter silence was, without a doubt, the eldest mber of the Sect Fu Qian had encountered so far.
Seemingly possessing unparalleled wisdom, the figure even directly called Fu Qian by his na.
The adjacent door stood slightly ajar; the elder had evidently just stepped out from within.
It seed he had been waiting, as early as when Fu Qian was on the floor below, as if endowed with prophetic foresight.
“Pleasure to et you.”
Under such abrupt obstruction, compounded by an unanticipated exposure of his identity, a less composed infiltrator would have triggered their ergency retreat protocol.
Yet Fu Qian rely smiled, greeted in return, and continued forward without the slightest hesitation.
Naturally, he didn’t quicken his pace, either.
As the Dark Moon Apostle, even en route to an appointnt, he would not sacrifice poise for haste.
Although he refrained from elaborating further, his response clearly conveyed his intent.
So much so, that when the high-hatted elder spoke again, he bypassed addressing Fu Qian directly, instead expelling one gigantic blood-red dandelion after another.
Indeed, this was the best analogy Fu Qian could muster.
Deep crimson, with tails connected to slender stems—like a hybrid of intricate patterns and natural life forms—it was a mass of thorns clustered ticulously according to unique principles.
The outermost spherical arrangent of spikes appeared lethally sharp, dripping with blood—his own blood.
Evidently forced out through his throat, Fu Qian could see the multitude of wounds furrowed into the oral cavity.
This violent creation, as the stems twisted and stretched, floated through the air like an ominous and flourishing dandelion swarm.
If Fu Qian did not halt, collision would be inevitable.
The impact would clearly transcend simple skin punctures—ordinary physical endurance would likely prove futile.
Fu Qian did not stop.
As he steadily approached, he rely discarded the cloak, tossing it lightly into the air.
The already tattered right sleeve shredded apart entirely in the next instant, revealing a spiked colossus arm ford from innurable Cold Crystals. The arm plunged through the thorny barrage, ravaging half of the elder’s body.
This occurred within a hair’s breadth—a desperate dodge preserved his life.
The secondary outco of his evasion was the retreat and dissolution of the thorn cluster before Fu Qian’s body could make contact.
Catching the descending cloak with ease, Fu Qian shifted his gaze to the shaky elder. Not only did the latter refrain from launching further attacks, but his mangled throat convulsed, unleashing a beast-like howl.
Calling reinforcents? Decisive indeed.
Amid his silent admiration, Fu Qian emitted an even fiercer Gospel in response.
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