"Where are we going?"
No matter how calm Fu Qian’s tone was, the sudden shift was truly too abrupt.
It was so abrupt that the Interlocutor, who seed to have lost the ability to speak, couldn’t help but voice his concerns for his own interests.
Not only was he forcibly summoned, but he also had his tasks assigned before he could even understand the situation.
Even if it were a Nightmare, this was excessively dark.
"Anywhere, don’t worry, we can afford the ticket."
Fu Qian’s response remained relaxed as he exchanged a glance with the Witch.
The latter remained silent, clearly having no objections to this arrangent.
"Aren’t you afraid I have ulterior motives and will lead you into danger... into the traps They have set?"
The Interlocutor found it hard to control his emotional outburst, fully proving earlier that he heard their conversation.
"Rest assured, even without ulterior motives, you will inevitably lead us into a trap."
Fu Qian waved his hand, maintaining his casual deanor, though his words were extraordinarily piercing.
His aning was simple: there’s no need to worry about malicious intent, as you lack the capability for malice even if you wished to.
...
It was obvious that the Interlocutor felt quite defeated at that mont; as a God Eroder, the sense of powerlessness was evident.
Though Fu Qian’s statent was not ant to be maliciously attacking.
It was simply his judgnt based on the current circumstances. If he didn’t think this way, there would have been no need to call the Interlocutor out again.
Having dealt with him earlier, it was almost clear that the Interlocutor’s corruption by the Prisoners was quite deep, his personality fragnted.
Though he could carry a conversation now, he could likely suffer a ntal breakdown at any mont.
In such a condition, leading the way, even if trying to cooperate actively, might be impossible.
Ultimately, the path would reflect the Prisoners’ will—exactly what they wanted.
The goal was to pass the problem onto the opponent.
From the beginning until now, it was all about simulating a conversation between himself and the Witch right in front of the Prisoners.
And he believed that the level of determination he and his companion conveyed was well understood by Them.
None of them were easily intimidated; under pressure, the Prisoner Alliance wouldn’t simply disband, but it wouldn’t be rock stable either.
In such circumstances, instead of running around blindly, it was better to hand the guiding task over to Them and see how they play their hand.
As ntioned before, ti was tight, requiring efficient actions, including efficiently dealing with deteriorating situations.
As for what to do if the Prisoners go in circles—well, that just ans the pressure isn’t high enough yet.
No matter how the Interlocutor acts later, Fu Qian was confident that he could soon get the Prisoners back on track.
And he believed the Witch was on the sa page, understanding and supporting this acceleration plan.
"Alright..."
Unfortunately, the person involved seed a bit lacking in perception.
Faced with Fu Qian’s excessively sharp critique, the Interlocutor’s expression went through a colorful transformation before letting out a cold laugh.
He didn’t actually refuse Fu Qian’s suggestion; in the next mont, he simply turned and led the way.
...
The order of the doors remained unchanged.
Keeping his word, as the Interlocutor stepped into the thick fog, Fu Qian indeed followed along with the Witch, leaving the room behind.
And as they moved forward outside, one could see that the scene beneath the fog, though sowhat distorted, retained its overall outline.
Even while moving forward, the sequence of the doors remained consistent with the upper level, the chaos evident only on the larger exit door—and of course, in the increasingly loud mooing sound.
Crack!
As he reflected, the Interlocutor already halted, opening the door before him.
Why he made such a choice was undoubtedly a complex journey in itself, one Fu Qian had no intention of deciphering.
But as the black iron door swung open, the resonating roar that followed had to be noted.
Could that really be Sister Ox-head?
Indeed, at that mont, the bellowing was deafening, even causing the fog before them to churn like waves.
And as it rolled, a figure reminiscent of earlier mories erged.
Facing slightly away, a female, holding aloft a massive ox head, as the creature’s deep, resonant roar echoed, she lifted it as if praying to an unseen presence.
The form, however, compared to its task, was not entirely unchanged.
Her clothing and body appeared significantly dried out, while the ox head, save for its coat, no longer seed much like an ox at all.
Covered in countless horns, a quick glance found them numbering in double digits, diverging in all directions, forming a bizarre image.
The ox’s mouth agape, one could even see protrusions piercing outward.
And the transformation in form brought about an apparent increase in power.
Previously, during a task, it only influenced people lining up for their heads; now, the primary target, the Interlocutor, seed barely able to withstand it.
"Looks like soone’s blocking the way—"
A mont of stiffness before turning his head, he threw the problem to his handler.
Yet before finishing his sentence, what was previously amplifying his voice—the bellowing—had abruptly ceased.
It was as if the scene when the Witch appeared had replayed, and the very droplets of mist suspended in the air seed drained of montum, frozen in place.
Inside, Sister Ox-head herself, while showing no visible signs of frost, stood immobile like an ice sculpture.
Crack—
Without waiting for the Interlocutor to emphasize the difficulty further, fine cracks ford on the obstructer’s hands and swiftly spread across her body and the ox head.
Then ca an avalanche-like scene.
Fragnts rapidly cascaded downwards, imdiately out of control.
Yet, as they hit the ground, they dissolved completely into the mist, causing the haze to resu its billowing.
"Continue."
The Witch’s voice echoed.
...
In the blink of an eye, Sister Ox-head was no more, alleviating the pressure imnsely.
Yet the liberated Interlocutor didn’t even utter thanks, rely staring blankly ahead.
It seed that finding his way here might be more about avoiding work than anything.
However, my Dark Moon Power gives no leeway for trickery from the likes of cowards.
As the least involved observer, the Witch made no move at that mont, but Fu Qian remained assured that it was the Pontiff’s handiwork.
The decisiveness was undeniable.
Sister Ox-head was clearly judged to be a low-value target, unworthy of dialogue, and was imdiately exterminated.
The Prisoners were ant to display their techniques, for the purpose of showcasing to the Prisoners, a ssage the Witch evidently grasped well.
And this renewed resolve was surely received by the Prisoners.
Crack—
Thankfully, the highly impacted Interlocutor, needing no extra urging from Fu Qian, tenaciously regained his senses.
Without a word, in the next mont, he lowered his head, moving through the once-blocked space, and opened another large door.
A ray of enchanting blue light, even without entering, flowed through the opening.
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