523 Eye of Illusory
A lanky shadow emerged from the shadows in translucent form. Swiftly, it lunged at Lumian, as if eager to claim a new host.
Resembling the possession of Wraiths and evil spirits, this entity sought control but lacked the speed to complete the process in a mere blink.
In an instant, Lumian, previously dormant, transformed into a shadowy figure, melding seamlessly with the darkness, leaving the bed bereft of his presence.
This marked the manifestation of his newly contracted skill—Shadow Transformation!
An eerie hush enveloped the room, dominated by the tall, translucent shadow, erasing any trace of Lumian or his unseen assailant.
Suddenly, the darkness rifted, revealing a decaying, skeletal python oozing yellowish-green pus.
Empty-eyed, its fangless mouth resembled a vortex, emitting a hurried, piercing sound. A suction force tugged at the surrounding shadows, drawing them in.
It seemed like an undead creature, a specialist in consuming shadows and shadowy creatures.
Room 5 of the Flying Bird’s first-class cabin’s master bedroom assumed an otherworldly tableau. Despite the lingering dim light, shadows dissipated, leaving everything cloaked in pure darkness.
In due time, Lumian emerged from the shadows, resuming his human form against the backdrop of a lush carpet and an exquisite wardrobe.
Simultaneously, a towering figure materialized—a knight adorned in tattered black armor. Pale flames flickered in its eye sockets, putrid liquid seeping from the armor’s crevices, with only sticky flesh clinging to its exposed skin.
With a broadsword raised, the dead knight advanced, slashing at Lumian, as if poised to shatter both bed and wardrobe.
Lumian’s agile form shifted, maneuvering from facing the Death Knight, the Shadow-Swallowing Python, and the looming tall, thin shadow to flank them all.
Crash!
The broadsword of the Death Knight cleaved through the wardrobe, sending fragments flying. Lumian, reacting swiftly, crouched down, clenched his fists, and struck the heavy brownish-yellow carpet.
From the center, a multitude of crimson, nearly white flames burst forth, consuming every inch of the room. The inferno devoured the three undead entities suspected to be from the spirit world.
Rumble!
Within the roaring flames, fireballs materialized and shot out from Lumian’s form.
They homed in on the Death Knight, the Shadow-Swallowing Python, and the lanky black shadow, or recklessly engulfed the sizable bedroom.
Rumble!
The crimson, nearly white fireballs detonated consecutively, tearing apart the three undead beings, pulverizing the bed, desk, and other furnishings. Pungent smoke billowed from the scorched carpet.
In this explosive turmoil, any entity lacking pure ethereality or possessing partial corporeality faced inevitable destruction in the confined space. The once steel-clad armor of the Death Knight crumbled instantly, and the Shadow-Swallowing Python fractured into a multitude of burning remains.
Though the lanky shadow fared relatively better, it too succumbed to the engulfing flames, dwindling in substance.
Rumble!
Although the Flying Bird boasted a steel structure, the impact of such force—
reminiscent of multiple cannons targeting a confined space—inevitably took its toll on Room 5 of the first-class cabin. Strangely, only cracks marred the inner wall, with neither the wall nor the door fully giving way.
However, the formless barrier enveloping the area shuddered violently, on the verge of disintegration.
As shockwaves rebounded from the walls, doors, and ceiling, Lumian, the catalyst of the explosion, suffered as well. It was akin to being struck repeatedly by a massive hammer, with his vision clouded by golden specks and a metallic taste of blood in his throat.
The air, instantly devoured by flames, left him with a suffocating sensation.
Amidst the tumultuous flames, a figure emerged from the darkness, standing near the window, adorned in a black robe with a loose hood. Numerous wounds marked his body, testament to the explosive waves and engulfing flames, leaving charred imprints.
Lumian observed that the man’s once fine hairs had transformed into pale- white, nearly indistinguishable feathers. Some were charred, emitting a dark dense fog instead of thick smoke.
Rather than the usual red blood, a thick yellowish-green hue oozed from the wounds.
Under the raised hood, Lumian discerned a pale-white face and a few ulcers reaching down to the bone. Vague traces of pale-white fur adorned the wounds.
In the blink of an eye, Lumian locked eyes with his opponent, who sported cold flaxen-colored irises. Between the brows of the hooded figure, a crack swiftly widened, revealing an illusory vertical eye with a deep purple border that almost verged on black. Devoid of eyelashes or pupils, it seemed to harbor countless pale-white patterns.
This peculiar vertical eye instantly mirrored Lumian’s figure.
His initial intention to “teleport” behind the hooded man and employ the Spell of Harrumph met an abrupt freeze.
The impact resonated at the spiritual level.
It was akin to Lumian’s Soul Body losing the protective shield of his physical form and standing exposed to scorching sunlight. Instinctively, fear, stiffness, and lethargy gripped him.
Ordinarily, humans explored the spirit world through Astral Projection, rarely detaching their Soul Body—the core of their soul—from their physical being, always shrouded in protection.
The Arbiter pathway’s Psychic Piercing bypassed the physical body, Ether Body, Astral Projection, and Body of Heart and Mind, directly influencing the Soul Body. It carried an almost undefendable reputation, affecting individuals to varying degrees.
Lumian suspected that the Spell of Harrumph shared these characteristics.
Within the assailant’s dark-purple, nearly black vertical eye, pale-white patterns silently spun, as if seeking the essence of Lumian’s Spirit Body.
The sensation resembled being scrutinized by penetrating rays of light, causing Lumian’s Spirit Body to quiver slightly, impeding intricate thoughts.
Just as he was about to take the simplest action of sinking his consciousness into the Blood Emperor mark on his right hand, the hooded man emitted a sudden pained groan.
His head snapped back as if struck by a bullet, the once illusory, dark-purple vertical eye now blurry, oozing dark-red blood mixed with yellowish-green pus.
With a pained groan, the hooded figure swiftly turned and soared out of the window, dragged by an unseen force.
Observing this, Lumian didn’t hasten to block the escape with Spirit World Traversal. Instead, he raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.
Boom!
At the window, a crimson, almost blinding light erupted, and a violent explosion engulfed the hooded man.
Lumian had set this as a trap.
Before entering a state of “sleep,” he had concealed the master bedroom within the Bottle of Fiction. There were two entrances, one by the window and the other by the door, accessible only to beings with superpowers. Both exits harbored delayed explosion fireballs.
Any trigger would unleash devastation.
Amidst the fiery explosion, the hooded man was propelled off his feet, crashing against the window frame. His limbs seemed on the brink of tearing from his body.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Lumian “teleported” to the severely injured and unconscious man, harrumphing at his foe.
Two beams of white light shot forth, striking the target and rendering him completely unconscious.
As Lumian prepared for his next move, pairs of arms suddenly emerged from the darkness at the shattered exit of the Bottle of Fiction.
Some were covered in warts, some decayed to the point of pus overflowing, and some only displayed blackened bones…
These arms seized the hooded man’s clothes and dragged him into the shadows, disappearing without a trace.
Observing this, Lumian refrained from an immediate transformation into a shadow creature to pursue them. Instead, he stood his ground, a slight frown creasing his brows.
The assailant shared an uncanny resemblance to Demon Warlock Burman as depicted on the wanted posters, but the non-human feeling was even more pronounced. The details suggested an undying monster rather than a human.
Lumian wasn’t caught off guard by Demon Warlock Burman’s appearance. It was one of the anticipated outcomes.
He had deliberately voiced suspicions about Fidel’s connection with the Demon Warlock in front of him without providing clarity, fostering the illusion that Louis Berry, a bold adventurer with a penchant for conspiracies, was attempting to extort money from the prominent merchant.
Under normal circumstances, even if Fidel had something to hide, he wouldn’t act so swiftly. He would likely observe closely for a few days to confirm the situation. Lumian, however, had “offered” him an opportunity this time.
Louis Berry, the adventurer, had made public the commission he accepted to lure out Baronet Black!
In such a scenario, it wouldn’t raise eyebrows if he were killed by Class Khizi.
The death of an overconfident individual in Port Farim wouldn’t spark trouble or suspicion.
So, why not nip the danger in the bud?
Even if Louis Berry’s suspicions lacked evidence, they would still draw the attention of official Beyonders.
Lumian’s “performance” at the bar the previous night seemed to bait Black Baronet Class Khizi, but in reality, it was bait for the merchant, Fidel Guerra!
If Fidel had no ties to the Demon Warlock, it wouldn’t trigger an additional reaction. Lumian merely needed to pursue the superficial purpose of hunting Black Baronet. If there was a connection, he would promptly receive a “response.”
To Lumian’s surprise, the abilities exhibited by Demon Warlock Burman shared similarities with the few divine pathways he knew, but there were also notable differences!
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