Chapter 1315: 1313: Blooming

Chapter 1315: Chapter 1313: Blooming

This is the unpredictability of fate. For instance, sometimes listening to advice doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll get a full meal.

Luckily, the officers were hiding in another room.

The mass that rolled forth collided almost instantly with the Silver-Garbed Broad Sword burning Lead Flame in Simon’s hands.

Clearly, Simon wasn’t entirely without preparation; his tactics were, as always, seasoned and calculated.

Though those seasoned tactics had failed him twice before.

Thud!

Thankfully, this time they did not.

As Simon’s blade met the unstoppable assailant, thick, nearly purple liquid gushed forth like a breached dam, drenching the architecture behind him in a torrential downpour.

This is yet another moment of fate’s capriciousness. The intact building across the street hadn’t been chosen as the site of emergence, but it still couldn’t escape eventual destruction.

Of course, while the mysterious purple liquid clearly emitted an ominous essence, it wasn’t enough to outright destroy a building. Fu Qian referred to Simon’s flight alongside the blood.

Though he successfully repelled the crushing assault, Simon paid the price.

Like a baseball imbued with kinetic force, his body hurtled through the air, spinning before crashing into the deep-brown wooden wall.

Unlike Leytin’s more robust structures, this one trembled, leaning precariously as if ready to collapse.

But that didn’t mean Simon’s opponent fared any better.

The two-person-tall sphere under the searing Lead Flame of Simon’s Broad Sword tore open as if crafted from paper, revealing a scar nearly a meter long.

Within that wound, faintly discernible and grotesque shapes could be seen—fingers, knees, spines, even strands of hair.

These sights failed to surprise Fu Qian; he had already scrutinized the patterns on the sphere’s surface earlier.

Its resemblance to Star Law was coincidental; the entity was entirely unrelated.

The forms etched into its surface were unmistakable: bodies entwined, bent into impossible postures beyond human capability.

The entire sphere resembled a sausage stuffed with flesh—flesh drawn not solely from humans.

Fu Qian clearly spotted a curved horn within.

The horn even extended outward, entangled with countless other limbs.

Though the sphere had ceased advancing, along the horrifying wound, the contents inside thrashed and writhed.

Yet that yearning for freedom met its demise mere moments later.

The Broad Sword left more than just a physical gash. On the layers of mangled flesh, tiny patterns wrought of Lead Flame continued crawling, spreading, converging to form an unearthly emblem.

Bang!

Amid an explosive roar, metallic flames erupted from the wound, disintegrating everything they touched into ash.

It seemed clear now what Simon’s Broad Sword and the Lead Flame engravings upon it were meant to accomplish.

The act of introducing flames directly into the body and detonating them was undeniably barbaric.

As Fu Qian mused at the scene, the massive sphere convulsed violently, losing all semblance of form.

More purple liquid splattered, and scores of intertwined limbs emerged, making the sphere resemble a true Flesh-Bloom.

“Transformation?”

Fu Qian admired the grotesque spectacle. He wasn’t the only bystander; evidently, others had stood detached from the action.

The rapid progression of the last few seconds had been overwhelmingly chaotic. Finally, Amila, who seemed to process Fu Qian’s earlier remark, broke her silence.

“Doesn’t the attack method just now feel familiar?”

Fu Qian’s demeanor remained composed, the ever-patient Herder guiding her train of thought.

“Sacrificial Entity!”

Amila wasted no time grasping the implication with a slight nudge.

“How could it be? For them to look like this? And how could they possess physical forms, be able to sustain damage—because they left the fog?”

Suddenly struck by a realization, Amila’s eyes sparkled with frantic urgency.

“Or perhaps entered a Nightmare? Depends on what you think matters most.”

Fu Qian neither refuted her theories nor affirmed them, merely adding another possibility.

After all, within the confines of a defined Nightmare, strange phenomena aren’t particularly surprising.

The hypothesis of Sacrificial Entities arose partly due to previous encounters within the fog.

Even though forms within the fog were invisible, sensory perception had still offered glimpses of freakishly distorted outlines.

Those prior impressions felt eerily aligned with the entity currently before them.

Moreover, as they approached the town, the journey’s latter half had been unexpectedly tranquil.

If this wasn’t mere coincidence, could it be influenced by something? Perhaps potential aggressors had been drawn away?

Accepting this explanation brought clarity to two mysteries—the Sacrificial Entities had been lured into the Nightmare, and that might be one of Nightmare’s objectives.

But simultaneously, it raised a more puzzling question: Why did The Sect bring the Sacrificial Entities into the Nightmare?

Fu Qian felt faintly that the answer to this question might also explain why he himself had been escorted here.

…

“Let’s not think about this now. Let’s eliminate this thing together.”

Reginald, who had been silently absorbing the dialogue between the two, interjected coldly.

“This thing indiscriminately attacks every target.”

This statement wasn’t wrong.

The Flesh-Bloom continued its rampage, clearly far from being fully subdued.

Most of its limbs flailed like grotesque tentacles, lashing at its surroundings.

In mere moments, another building succumbed to its assaults, rapidly closing in on the trio.

Upon verifying this threat, Amila promptly adopted Reginald’s suggestion. Her form sparked with light as she glanced toward Fu Qian.

Though her mental state seemed precarious, his earlier brilliance was undeniable.

He effortlessly destroyed two targets, even within the fog—an achievement no one could ignore.

By contrast, the current entity seemed frail, or so it appeared. If he were willing to intervene—apparently, he wasn’t.

In a fleeting moment, Amila’s gaze caught his massive figure, indifferent and relaxed, showing no intent to act.

Despite standing at the forefront, with several writhing “tentacles” nearly crawling to his feet, he remained unmoved.

The next instant, under the stunned gaze of Amila and Reginald, those limbs abruptly halted, hesitating briefly before retreating in frenzied fear, as if facing an unspeakable horror.

Indeed, such survival instincts could not be more apparent.

Accompanied by a domineering snort, Fu Qian shifted his gaze toward the shattered wooden wall.

Bang!

The Silver-Garbed Broad Sword, surging with Thunder-like force, propelled Sir Simon’s figure back into the fray at a speed equal to his prior flight, striking the target once again.

An indescribable wail filled the air, and in the following explosion, countless severed limbs scattered in every direction.

Amila and Reginald barely had time to react; the Flesh-Bloom had already succumbed to its death throes.

One must admire the lethal prowess of the Hunter dispatched explicitly for the kill.

The beast’s counterattack wasn’t without consequence, as Sir Simon clearly bore visible wounds. Yet, he showed no concern, turning his attention back toward them.

As Fu Qian expressed admiration, his eyes scanned Simon’s form. In the next moment, discovering something, his tone shifted to one of subtle concern.

“Sir Simon, are you feeling unwell?”

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