693 Golden Corpse
Lumian looked at the gold mask in his hand, white and black paint covering the eyes and face. Without hesitation, he put it on.
A cold sensation quickly seeped into his skin, and the weight of the gold felt unusually real.
His mind spun as he gazed through the mask at the entrance of the black ancient tomb and the end of the still river, which had mostly receded.
This time, he finally saw a slightly indistinct figure.
The figure wore a strange rusted iron crown and a dark robe with peculiar patterns. Its skin was milky-white, and its eyes were so dark they seemed to hold the entire night. A pale-white beard fluttered around its mouth and chin.
The old man sat cross-legged, hands tucked into his sleeves. He leaned against the open door of the black ancient tomb, his expression cold and impassive, like a statue.
As Lumian looked over, the old man met his gaze. His dark eyes seemed to reflect Lumian, as if numerous phantoms had appeared.
Splash!
Behind the old man, an even more illusory, nearly lightless water wave rippled in the void. The colossal figure in blood-stained armor roared angrily, attempting to approach.
Lumian’s right palm instantly burned.
The old man in the rusted iron crown and strange robe withdrew his hands from his sleeves.
His hands had pale, dark skin that was still smooth. The backs were cracked, each crack either covered in white feathers stained with pale yellow oil or dripping with decaying yellow pus.
Upon seeing this, Lumian’s thoughts vanished, and he felt as if he were descending into endless cold darkness.
A familiar burning sensation emanated from his left chest. Combined with the burning, frenzied, violent sensation in his right palm, it awakened Lumian’s consciousness, allowing him to find a lifeline in the darkness.
Using this opportunity, Lumian regained the ability to think. He saw nearly black blood vessels protruding from the dark eyes that seemed to hide the entire night. They were tainted with madness that threatened to bury and end everything.
The eyes closed, and the illusory ripples and colossal figure behind the old man vanished.
Lumian’s vision began to clear, and his perception of the outside world fully returned.
A sharp pain coursed through him.
Lumian glanced down at his right hand and realized disgusting bumps bulged from his wrist to the back of his hand. His hair seemed to have thickened and turned whiter.
He flipped his palm over and saw that the mark left by Blood Emperor Alista Tudor’s remnant aura had completely surfaced. It was a vivid red.
Surrounding these marks was decaying flesh, seeping pus, and pale-white skin.
Lumian frowned.
Despite the Blood Emperor’s remnant aura being fully activated, Amandina, Lugano, and the others around him didn’t show any signs of panic or fear. He didn’t sense any extremely frenzied or violent thoughts either!
Wait…
The figure in the blood-stained armor seems to be Blood Emperor Alista Tudor…
This place feels similar to the Samaritan Women’s Spring… Could the figure sitting at the tomb’s entrance be the Underworld Daoist mentioned by the Armored Shadow?
Why are he and the Blood Emperor appearing here again? Shouldn’t they be at the source of the Samaritan Women’s Spring? Are the two connected?
Did the Underworld Daoist discover the Blood Emperor’s residual aura on me and conveniently seal it? Even if I fully activate it, I won’t be able to unleash the crazy Red Priest’s aura?
Uh, I don’t know if it’s because of Mr. Fool’s seal or because I’m wearing Hisoka’s golden mask, but the Underworld Daoist didn’t directly allow me to undergo immortal ascension, nor did he force me to lose control…
Lumian quickly grasped his predicament. As the immortalized Devil entered the black ancient tomb, the situation inside changed once more.
The tomb, which had fallen silent, emitted a rustling sound, accompanied by the clang of metal colliding with stone.
The next instant, a golden figure materialized beside the Underworld Daoist at the tomb’s entrance.
The figure was covered in gold, with long limbs and a golden mask streaked with white and black paint.
It belonged to the same type as the one on Lumian’s face and the pale-white goat’s head!
The golden-masked figure stiffened, as if its limbs were dead. Relying solely on the strength of its waist, it sat up from lying flat like a corpse.
Eyes closed, it turned its head towards the pale-white goat closest to it.
The pale-white goat’s aura instantly turned ordinary, making it unable to walk on the still river. It rapidly decayed, sank, and quickly vanished.
The golden figure, eyes still closed, turned its head to the tattered, sinister cloth doll.
The eerie vines on the cloth doll’s Gothic dress suddenly came alive, coiling around the doll, rendering it powerless and immobile.
The corpse’s head turned to the slowly walking green-eyed man.
The green-eyed man, his eyes reflecting the ugly puppet, suddenly halted. With a bang, his body transformed into a bloody piglet.
The ugly puppet landed beside the piglet, motionless, as if it had turned into the most ordinary and common puppet.
Ludwig’s eyes lit up as he jogged over.
He leaped up like a massive frog and pounced on the bloody piglet. He grabbed its head and bit down.
Amandina closed her eyes in shock.
Louis Berry’s godson turned out to be such a monster?
The pig wailed fiercely. The golden-masked corpse closed its eyes, turned its head, and faced Iveljsta Eggers.
Lumian’s forehead throbbed. He wanted to break through the sudden paralyzing pressure and teleport over to rescue Iveljsta, but he hesitated.
Previously, he had restricted himself from approaching the black ancient tomb. At most, he would take a glance or two. Now, he didn’t want to break this self-imposed “rule.” Violating it meant immense risk.
However, Iveljsta was from the Church of The Fool.
Just as Lumian made his decision, the golden corpse turned its head again, but Iveljsta remained unchanged. He was still severely injured, his aura weak.
What’s going on? Why did the cold corpse in the ancient tomb spare Iveljsta? The Underworld Daoist didn’t do anything to him when he looked at him… Lumian was puzzled as the corpse’s golden mask faced Reaza.
After the pale-white goat vanished, Reaza summoned an undead creature to envelop him and blinked to the edge of the ancient tomb area. He was about to escape into the forest, but before he could do anything else, his body froze.
Pop, pop, pop. Huge, wet warts erupted from Reaza’s face, neck, and the backs of his hands, accompanied by disgusting mucus.
The vice-captain of Port Pylos’s patrol collapsed, rapidly disintegrating into countless bloody warts that squirmed in the gaps of his thin suit.
The undead creature summoned by Reaza transformed into thin human skin and gently landed.
Lumian’s scalp tingled as he watched. Finally, he broke free from the paralysis caused by the corpse sitting up. He said to Lugano, Amandina, and the others,”Grab hold of me!”
He was about to teleport back to Tizamo!
At that moment, the corpse’s golden-masked face turned towards him.
Lumian’s body turned cold. Ignoring Camus and company, he immediately activated the black mark on his right shoulder.
Suddenly, he saw the cold corpse’s face, its eyes peeking out from under the golden mask with white and black paint, open.
It was a pair of cold, icy-blue eyes.
Icy-blue eyes? Lumian was taken aback, finding them familiar.
These are…
These are Naboredisley’s eyes!
Dammit, why is Naboredisley here? Why is he a cold corpse in the black ancient tomb?
What right does He have to bestow the Beyonder powers of the Prisoner pathway?
It can’t be real. It’s not Naboredisley, but its eyes resemble…
Amidst Lumian’s thoughts, he saw a smile in the icy-blue eyes, a smile of playfulness, understanding, and certainty.
This was a stark contrast to the pained expressions in the icy-
blue eyes on Hanth Island.
Suddenly, a half-withered, violently beating dark-red heart soared from the golden corpse’s hand and flew out of the completely disintegrated still river.
A short figure pounced on the heart like a frog and grabbed it. It was Ludwig, his mouth filled with blood.
The smile in the golden corpse’s icy-blue eyes grew more relaxed.
He nodded at Lumian and willingly fell back to His original position. He had no intention of seizing the opportunity to leave the black ancient tomb.
With a splash of illusory water, the tomb’s open door gradually closed.
Seated by the door, the figure suspected to be the Underworld Daoist vanished.
Wh— Naboredisley’s corpse doesn’t seem willing to leave the tomb… How did He end up lying in there? Lumian couldn’t figure out the reason, so he looked at Ludwig and realized the boy was holding a half-withered dark-red heart to his mouth.
Lumian wanted to stop him but lacked the ability. The surrounding corpses didn’t seem to attract Ludwig as much as the half-withered heart.
Clang!
The tomb door slammed shut, causing the entire area to tremble.
Lumian and the others witnessed dream fragments one after another, and their surroundings blurred.
After a brief daze, Lumian realized he was lying in the middle of an unlit street. The crimson moon was bright in the sky, casting its light.
This was inside Tizamo.
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