Chapter 1367: 1365: Fallen Guest Empire (24)

Chapter 1367: Chapter 1365: Fallen Guest Empire (24)

Indeed, one becomes noble by keeping company with the virtuous.

Faced with Frankie’s straightforward refusal, Fu Qian not only didn’t mind but was even deeply gratified.

In just a few minutes of interaction, his sincerity and efficiency were conveyed and understood so well, a model of leading new trends.

And in the vision, the transparent skull placed on Frankie’s head again confirmed its pliability.

The moment they touched, the latter seemed to transform into a living creature, rapidly spreading from the top of the head downward, enveloping the entire face.

In a blink, the chief of the Fallen Star Clan had a bizarre look.

Bone-shaped marks covered the skin surface, faintly visible, paired with vague black turbulence, at first glance like an overly three-dimensional X-ray.

The remaining three, including Lady Xia, although mere spectators, had grave expressions.

“Take a good look, Lord Golim Xiao.”

At this time, Frankie’s voice came through, still not opening his closed eyes.

“What happens next might be hard to believe, but I hope you’ll watch till the end.”

Hmm… why does this sound so familiar?

Though Frankie’s tone was utterly solemn, as the one reminded, faced with these overly familiar lines, Fu Qian could not help but feel like joking.

Of course, this didn’t prevent him from abiding, standing still awaiting enlightenment.

After guidance and cultivation, there must be results, not to be missed.

With Frankie’s last word, a certain special change finally swept through the entire chamber.

The first was the beast-like heavy panting.

…

The brightness increased slightly, but the oppressive feeling grew even stronger.

Fu Qian silently critiqued the scene before him.

At that moment, he observed from a tilted perspective, and although the surroundings remained a closed space, it was evidently no longer the stone chamber from before.

Tables, chairs, cabinets, pots, bowls, cups, and plates, the atmosphere of daily life had thickened considerably — as well as the scent of blood.

Indeed, this exquisitely decorated, cozily toned place was largely covered in sprayed bloodstains.

In the vision, foremost on the vase was a conspicuous trace of dark red flow.

And the source of the blood was quite apparent.

As the angle wobbled and steadied, a bloody body, with its head and upper torso ripped open, lay sprawled across the dining table.

The remaining graying hair showed the person was not young.

Below was another body, nearly half missing.

The head was intact, resembling an elderly woman, seemingly the spouse of the one by the table.

No matter which of them you looked at, you could see deformities distinct from humans.

Crimson skin, grotesquely protruding necks, even tiny scales.

Next moment, the view lowered, revealing a pair of blood-soaked hands.

The thick red color was the most striking thing after the two victims, in this entire space.

…

Enforcing in a house, successfully completing a mission but struck down in the target’s counterattack?

A scenario quickly flashed through Fu Qian’s mind.

Just a brief glimpse, yet enough to judge that the blood on those hands wasn’t self-derived.

Combined with the slightly non-human victims, it’s easy to recall the Cult Hunter law enforcement scenes seen before.

There’s even another point supporting this conclusion — the person’s clothing seemed to be a silver coat.

Interesting.

Fu Qian knew he was in a scene resembling a hallucination.

This was what Frankie shared when he wore the skull, allowing himself to experience it.

As for his real self, he still stood in that underground chamber, able to exit this illusion at will with a mere thought.

That’s why he was advised to see it through to the end, perhaps?

Fu Qian naturally wouldn’t terminate it prematurely; he not only watched intently but also pondered the origin of this hallucination.

If it was a past real event, then was it Frankie’s perspective?

A logical inference, but if so, should one add Cult Hunter to this person’s career resume?

As he contemplated, the angle moved again, unsteadily navigating to the doorway, then yanking it open forcefully.

…

Indeed, it was late at night.

Though there was a corridor ahead, the deep surrounding darkness could already be seen.

And the owner of the perspective unexpectedly couldn’t wait to rush outside, first smashing a small window with a fist, poking his head out to look.

The stars twinkled, seemingly within reach — however, the previously eager motion suddenly stiffened.

The Stars Association?

Fu Qian could sense the intense psychological impact and seemed to understand the reason.

If it was really a Cult Hunter engaging in a purge, it seemed the recent experience during the operation made him eager to look upon his source of faith.

Yet evidence had proven that the supreme being was already unrecognizable.

At least in Fu Qian’s view, what appeared in the vision had no resemblance to the starry sky of the Ordinance World.

Even though it was a mere illusory image, you could still sense the distortion and desolation.

If it was indeed a Sect member, such a breakdown reaction wouldn’t be surprising.

…

The breakdown lasted nearly a minute, and when the perspective moved again, the person’s mobility seemed somewhat restored, speeding up considerably.

And the direction of movement appeared quite defined.

After rushing out the door, outside the street was eerily silent.

As they sprinted all the way, soon a familiar structure emerged under the starlight.

It was indeed the Sect.

Fu Qian recognized it at once; it was the Western Cathedral of the Celestial Sphere Cult he had visited multiple times to offer guidance.

But at this moment, it seemed enveloped by a strange power.

As the view zoomed in, that majestic figure rapidly decayed, even teetering on collapse.

BOOM!

Just as the person charged recklessly to the high wall, their sprint suddenly halted.

Behind the half-open front hall door, a fleeting glimpse of what appeared like flowing flesh and blood disappeared.

And though it was just a flash, one could faintly make out assorted limbs of varying lengths, and far more than one head, massing like a centipede’s spine.

Meanwhile, cries filled with joy, pain, and even corruption, echoed from deep within the building.

The once-holy church seemed to have fallen into a den of depravity in an instant.

The last scene in the perspective was as the person staggered to their knees, bringing those blood-stained hands back into view.

Yet in that brief moment, they too had undergone a bizarre transformation, within the writhing muscles, as if countless eyes struggled to open.

“This is my memory.”

The next moment the image dissipated, and Frankie’s voice followed.

“A memory of the final nightmare.”

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