"What a pity, I initially wanted to catch up with him."
While understanding the current situation, Fu Qian shook his head and sighed, continuing to communicate honestly.
"I’ve recently heard of sothing special, wondering if he would be interested."
These words were not spoken without reason. Li Weixuan’s fad friend, Yuan Fang, was the one Fu Qian had specifically sought out to ask.
It turns out it’s not simply a case of the sa na; his na was actually inspired by an ancestor of the family.
That ancestor, who was also nad "Yuan Fang," was so extraordinarily talented that he sensed a supre will’s call at the age of thirty and passed away in seclusion.
Considering the substantial link between the two families, Fu Qian had long wanted to confirm it.
Yet, due to fate, when he returned to their privileged region, the person was already dead without any proof left.
"It sounds like Ming King and the Prophet were friends, so why do sothing like this?"
The notion that honesty is the ultimate weapon seed to be powerful still. In Fu Qian’s candid openness, the rather cunning-looking Lord didn’t pry further into the topic.
"If it weren’t for my intervention, it would have swallowed everything whole."
As he spoke, he gestured to Fu Qian, evidently hoping the latter could distinguish friend from foe.
"So has it done many things like this?"
Fu Qian didn’t rush to deny but instead touched the strange creation, savoring the pungent sll with his finger.
"Many, not just carriages... people, animals, even the trees in the square."
Though the manner was bizarre, it allowed for a potential for communication.
For a mont, the Lord even spoke faster, rapidly listing the misdeeds of the creation.
"It lurks in incredible places, erges from anywhere, targets a moving object, mimics the appearance, and causes hidden pollution.
At so uncertain ti later, it devours them and disappears again with its spoils... maybe it’s ineffective against you, but your coachman is a perfect example."
Finally, the Lord gestured towards the carriage, already unrecognizable.
Indeed, as he said, besides the body being riddled with holes, the coachman had long lost signs of life, including the two horses.
Within their bodies, most muscles still appeared fresh red, yet their blood vessels were flowing with black.
Why so clearly visible?
It’s simple; the Lord’s prior attack didn’t shy away from Fu Qian, nor them.
Amidst the crisscrossing, several bodies had been sliced like specins.
"They were too fragile, already beyond cure the mont they were targeted."
Seeing Fu Qian observe closely, the Lord smirked coldly.
"I see, indeed very dangerous."
Fu Qian finally nodded his head, still focusing his gaze on his finger.
And that thick black mass showed no appetite for it, even recoiling in fear, gradually retreating.
But that was all, the remaining vitality seems insufficient to support a higher intensity reaction.
"Besides the Prophet, have others faced misfortune?"
Observing the change, Fu Qian continued to inquire.
"I don’t know."
Unfortunately, the Lord imdiately shook his head.
Grand Fate Ming Emperor’s response was clear, not caring about the harm to many lives nor the offense to himself.
"After the Prophet’s death, certain connections ceased to exist, perhaps so might pretend to be still connected, but not including ... so I don’t know any updates on anyone, I hope you understand?"
He decisively discarded the topic, instead sincerely answering the question.
A fair statent, a profound connection had ceased to exist.
"Understood."
Fu Qian nodded, finally turning to him.
"Then can I leave?"
The Lord’s farewell seed to have brewed for long, finally having the chance to propose.
"You may."
Fu Qian remained amiable, not picking up on past rudeness nor forcing further inquiries.
"Very well, Your Excellency, Grand Fate Ming Emperor..."
As if wanting to rember every detail, the Lord’s gaze scanned over Fu Qian’s mask inch by inch.
"I will look forward to our next eting."
And with a traditional farewell akin to "I’ve rembered you," his body gradually faded into nothingness.
Without even a motion to turn around, further proving the previous two-step retreat was just a deception—although it was also now.
"You don’t have to be so shy."
Casually reminding, manifestly not aid at the Lord, at that mont Fu Qian looked up.
A deeper blue than the night descended from the sky, roaring down, enveloping the entire area.
The tallest building first bore the brunt, failing to provide any buffer, crumbling directly into dust.
...
A reasonable strategy, unable to precisely target, then employ indiscriminate coverage.
A true catastrophe, but for Fu Qian at that mont, he clearly understood the rationale.
The Lord was cunning and persistent; how could he forget the conclusions just summarized?
Later exchanges could be seen as being intimidated by his actions, expressing goodwill and extracting information, but there’s a simpler explanation that preparing for a big move is rather troubleso.
Looking now, it lives up to the term "big move."
That special blue was indeed refracted from a colossal piece of ice.
Indeed, the descending object no longer resembled the prior attacks as intangible, but quite had the legendary icy teor’s likeness.
Bluntly simple, relying solely on speed and mass to push the destructive effects to the peak.
Though guiding it took so effort, it was quite fitting for the current scenario.
Under such an assault, whether the mysterious Grand Fate Ming Emperor could survive or not, the carriage devourer, already down to its last breath, clearly had reduced mobility.
Even if the forr imitated prior tactics to shatter the aggression, preventing this tragedy was hard.
Boom!
Amidst a thunderous roar, that terrifying extraterrestrial object encountered an obstruction.
Countless flying fragnts transford the surroundings into ruins entirely, except for two carriages.
Because what shattered it were no longer fingers, but hundreds of tentacles.
They intertwined directly above the two carriages, forming an absolute barrier.
"Very good, it seems we’ve had a great start."
Without hastily retracting them, Fu Qian didn’t even regard the Lord’s vanishing spot, instead bowing his head for encouragent.
The dark mass of a devourer had overco fear, coiling around him, seeking protection.
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