Double negation makes people more inclined to believe the "truth" that is ultimately discovered.
This is why Fu Qian didn’t use fla enchantnt on the first two strikes after realizing the prisoners had consciousness.
The most perfect scenario would be that the prisoner knew a lot about the pale figure and had enough worldly experience not to be deceived by simple appearances, querying his own disguise from certain details.
After taking a hit next, he would "personally" experience it and successfully verify his suspicion.
Then when struck again with an enchanted blade, it would help him realize there was another cause for the anomaly, overturning his previous conclusion.
Ultimately, the identity of the pale figure and spread of the golden fla would be recognized to the greatest extent and most likely passed on to the Night Watchman.
All seems to have executed perfectly so far.
Specifically, the frenzied strike this ti nearly shattered the plain Knight, while the prisoner deftly avoided the attack’s blind spot without launching an attack himself.
This strike seed to have shaken him, yet he didn’t escape but rather stared intently at the flaming sword and the Knight’s spasming half.
Fu Qian did too.
Besides the prisoner unafraid to defer death for the truth, there was another gain from this journey—
Testing whether the golden fla might have so special effect when hitting these subjects was an absolute necessity.
The strange feeling never subsided, but until now, the danger that the Red Moon spoke of was still undetected.
The impossibly strong chanical shells seed bland, unable to explain their source of strength.
If the Mythical Form wasn’t activated, the ti lingering here would approach the limit, before leaving, trying the fla suspected to originate from the Abandonnt King to see if there was a reaction, was a pre-arranged plan.
And now, it’s a reminder that curiosity often yields a marvelous scene before one’s eyes.
...
On the arms, the waist, the cross-section of that giant body, you can indeed see flesh-like existence, even twitching.
This might not be a particularly unusual developnt, but the cross-sections of the giant shield and armor showed the sa.
Strangely, the material that previously seed purely tal now appears to have shed so mysterious coating, moving like the body, giving an overwhelming sense of discomfort.
In just a mont, the source of this discomfort seed to answer itself—
The fla’s influence continued spreading around the incision, causing larger areas of the "coating" to peel, rendering the originally normal armor surface to a nightmarish sight.
Jagged and vibrant, what unfolds are a multitude of petite bodies, interwoven and climbing upon one another.
Among them, one can easily discern figures of humans, cattle, sheep, snakes, fishes, birds, and even more grotesque forms beyond the scope of the Transcendent.
These are not simple stacks but interconnected in an odd and intricate manner like a marvelously structured machine.
Flesh as the base material, yet chanically structured, or perhaps call it a perfect "wetware"?
What exactly is this thing? If it represents so Divine Being’s authority, isn’t it too sinister?
Eyes scanning over, confirming the nearby sliced railing, also displayed the sa scene before Fu Qian’s figure vanished on the spot, narrowly avoiding a thick tendril spiraling behind.
Thick as an arm, colored like human skin, the tentacle protruded from beneath the prisoner’s clothing from behind.
Evidently, after observing for a while, he still decided to do sothing.
It’s a pity, though, that despite the sense of mutual sympathy this maneuver evokes, today has been fulfilling, and they shall et again next ti.
Carrying this slight regret, resurging in Blood Conquest state, enduring fragntation crossing to the entrance, images of the final eerie scene interweave in Fu Qian’s mind, along with his own Mythical Form—the chanical Tyrant.
When he first donned the Divine Skin, he marveled at the strangeness of that form.
Made of countless gears and parts, operating in a non-biological state, it seed like an ancient Deity recreated with cold machinery.
Though vastly different from what he just witnessed, there’s always an elusive thought running through his mind.
Is there so intrinsic connection?
...
Indeed, it hasn’t failed.
Taking rapid stock of the gains from this venture, the violent Tide started anew.
Fu Qian successfully passed through the circular wall portal, returning to the junction.
The Return Edict has opened again, and the armor too was summoned once more.
Although the latter showed signs of near decommission, Fu Qian still barreled into Liliyana’s hideout with the fullest possible protection.
When reaching the door leading to the Half-step Moon, the Pseudo-Divine Being state had already ended nearly three seconds before.
Fu Qian lingered for another second outside the door, noting every tick of his body’s change, before stepping in.
Whew—
On the Half-step Moon, the dream dissipated almost instantly, so did the armor.
Simultaneously, Fu Qian removed the Emissary’s Mask.
With a long exhale, the dark warehouse lay before him.
As he sat at his place, Fu Qian activated the Mythical Form not used during earlier explorations.
The Abandonnt King reappears, yet this ti, the perspective of the calamity-spreading deity surveys himself.
His body, already burdened, felt heavier in the Mythical state.
Nevertheless, Fu Qian remained patient, leaving none of the layered phantom eyes unchecked, ditating silently.
At last, a concept so dim as to be elusive was finally pinned by Fu Qian, and the corresponding calamity eyes swiftly opened.
Flas burst forth, igniting the calamity at its peak, Fu Qian’s body almost engulfed.
After around two seconds, just before the golden fire extinguished, his right hand reached behind his head, withdrawing sothing.
Palm-sized, intricately crafted.
Amidst specks of blood, rested a lifelike effigy of himself.
Upon closer inspection, this dense doll body, like the final scene witnessed, consisted of countless minuscule intertwined figures of various forms.
The biggest difference from the plain Knight, these bodies lacked diverse colors, replaced by a uniform white.
Unfortunately, upon being extracted from the body, the puppet began collapsing, disintegrating into ashes in less than a breath’s ti.
Seems the danger the Red Moon warned of is found, that peculiar feeling stemming from sothing parasitizing him.
Even when the crisis appeared resolved, Fu Qian maintained his uplifted stance, recollecting the previous vision.
White, yet not bone ash white, but as delicate as porcelain.
If mory serves, wasn’t Su Gao’s own doll also growing from within himself?
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