Although it was a casual retort, it was clearly difficult to answer.
Even the usually unstoppable Brother Interlocutor was caught off guard for two and a half seconds.
"Why do you think I’d be interested in dealing with soone as crazy as you?"
But as a senior with dignity, he eventually snorted coldly, retorting with high aggression.
"Then why did you co out again?"
...
If the ranking is multi-dinsional, then in terms of irony authority, Brother Interlocutor facing Fu Qian is undoubtedly like the gap between man and God.
This silence lasted for several instances of two and a half seconds.
Even as his expression twisted, a pair of wings painted in grease behind Brother Interlocutor started to spread, faintly evolving into a gesture of body language.
But as soone mature and steady in middle age, facing the newly admitted mber of the Nightmare Corridor, he ultimately did not make any move to engage in an internal dispute.
"So you’re not planning to leave?"
Of course, this does not an he’d be willing to continue being led by the nose; the next mont the topic was forcibly changed.
And the chosen content was quite appropriate, sothing Fu Qian’s situation couldn’t ignore anyway.
"So do you have any suggestions?"
As an expert who seeks the truth, Fu Qian did not engage in the aningless act of deliberately acting rebellious, and imdiately asked humbly.
Hum...
The senior’s prestige finally showcased itself, yet the Interlocutor didn’t display a look of satisfaction, seeming like the lessons learned from earlier interactions were deeply engraved in his mind—this guy in front was a truly cunning and shaless crook, almost any nonsensical chatter or jest had its purpose.
Including the current topic, it’s hard to say there is no shaping involved in it, however—
With a cold laugh, the gloating on the Interlocutor’s face was so unhidden.
"Actually, you don’t need to be so troubleso, I admit I underestimated you last ti, you’re smart, cunning and cold-blooded, completely different from those past idiots."
"However, precisely because of this, I’m now very happy to share any useful experience with you to make the whole process of accepting your fate even more exciting."
"And I will be here, not missing a single step."
"In fact, you seem to be starting to accept it."
As he spoke, he gestured towards Fu Qian’s left arm.
...
Fu Qian was still wearing the trench coat Miss Wen helped him pair.
Fu Qian understood this as representing a certain essential attribute of the Nightmare Corridor, such as the automatic aggregation of dream fragnts.
Although the previous dream ended quickly, considering he had gained certain control, so subtle elents could be brought in.
Undoubtedly, this was a good thing; otherwise losing the ability to transform flesh, he might risk running naked.
By contrast, the Interlocutor was obviously much more sensitive to certain things; the real situation of his left hand was not sothing it could be kept secret.
"Indeed, I find this style quite interesting."
The next mont Fu Qian’s "left arm" moved, rising at a bizarre angle.
And Fu Qian followed suit, pulling his sleeve up.
Black chitinous surface, thin golden stripes like hair, underneath was surprisingly a worm as thick as an arm, with a grotesque shape.
Even through the gaps in the chitin, the plump body could be seen writhing, with flesh flowing like threads within it.
...
Is this a familiar pattern?
Yet faced with this terrifying scene, Fu Qian had a different focal point.
If mory serves, this sort of appearance had appeared on him once, the first ti he entered the Nightmare Corridor.
The mutation brought by a parasite within at the ti was of this style.
The Corridor’s "pollution" truly had a way of not forgiving any weakness.
Fu Qian doubted he had another worm crawling inside him now.
But clearly, one of the upper wills within the Nightmare Corridor was indeed represented similarly to a worm, even quite active.
For instance, the near thousand-page to.
And its erosion was instantly anchored to the loss of self-sourced left arm.
Even seemingly to minimize resistance, the form used was of the type previously infecting him once.
Five spikes on the worm’s head seed to fit the concept of fingers, reducing rejection.
And it can be imagined that as pollution deepens, all parts of the body will slowly inch towards this style.
In truth, the junction between the worm’s tail and the shoulder was already moving upward slowly but steadily.
Being caught in the Nightmare Corridor, aside from the nature of existence changing, the surface manifestation was clearly not spared.
Of course this wasn’t entirely without benefit, although not so obedient, at this mont, this worm limb was already the strongest point in physical attack across the body.
"Hopefully, you can maintain this optimism."
The Interlocutor was visibly no longer stimulated by such a posture, between cold laughs, directly began to share experience as promised.
"Leaving is very simple; pollute those who dream with your mark integrated into their existence, just like I did back then."
"Mark pollution?"
Though possessing nurous nightmare experiences, and despite the Interlocutor’s shared content, so had been previously self-analyzed, Fu Qian wasn’t boastful.
"Exactly, your mark of existence carrying intense imprints of you, such as na, form, even abilities, control; use them to distort, like pressing a handprint onto a lump of clay."
"As for how exactly to do it, I believe you’ve seen various referenceable techniques."
Indeed...
As the Interlocutor spoke, Fu Qian withdrew his gaze from the left arm, quickly recalling months of incidents, including the various ethereal demons and ghosts.
He’d really been opened to this aspect more than once.
"But rember, in the process, you mustn’t wake them up."
The Interlocutor’s sharing wasn’t finished yet, and clearly grasped well the nature of Fu Qian’s behavior at the ti.
"It’s not an easy task, because their dream intensity is utterly different from yours back then."
"A bit stronger stimulus or cognitive conflict could alert them, shatter the dream, wasting all effort, sothing you just tested for sure."
"Yet what I must tell you is, you need rather intense stimulus to leave an imprint on the clay."
The Interlocutor’s tone carried a bit of schadenfreude.
"Understood, like carving patterns on eggshells, using a hamr."
But Fu Qian didn’t mind, nodded earnestly.
"Here’s the issue, if unsuccessful for too long and no one dreams of anymore?"
"That’s simple, no eggs left, losing the chance to break free."
The Interlocutor clearly didn’t mind further stimulating Fu Qian.
"Oh, just like you."
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