Chapter 1743: Chapter 1738: Bitter Fruit (32)
The offspring cannot represent themselves; although their behavior is extreme, their reasoning holds some truth.
The white dress is torn, and blood and flesh are splattered.
Saraâs mental state is indeed more agitated than usual, and her frenzied self-mutilation actions come suddenly.
Unfortunately, Fu Qian smoothly sidesteps in near synchrony, using the other face on his shoulder to block the spraying blood, without getting a drop on himself.
No choice; the change might be sudden, but for a professional like him whoâs accustomed to abnormality, it hardly causes any mental shock.
It appears that Sara isnât just preparing for a spiritual attack.
When her abdomen is torn open, no more strange things emerge.
However, with this action, itâs as if a switch is pressed, causing Ms. Sarahâs body to start expanding rapidly, evenly and swiftly like an emergency slide on an airplane.
At this moment, her expansion index definitely wonât lose to that thing.
In the blink of an eye, the passage, which wasnât spacious to begin with, is fully stuffed.
Besides the giant face almost pressed against him, itâs easy to imagine Saraâs other body parts stretching considerably in the dark passage, like a cork plugging it inside.
Heh...
It seems the person hasnât completely lost consciousness; in the next moment, the giant mouth slightly opens, emitting a sound seemingly interpretable as laughter.
Before Fu Qian can respond, the mass of fat and flesh seems to lose enough friction support, smoothly "flowing" down.
Itâs even like being stuffed too tightly; the skin is pulled out in gashes.
Examining the mixture of something like butter and blood seeping out, the crying in Fu Qianâs consciousness becomes intense again.
...
So, is this the way to trap oneself below?
It indeed aligns with the aim of exhausting every power to prevent oneself from running into darkness.
The last time Sara played a role, it was pretending to invite him out, actually serving as a counter-example to scare him away with a tragic end, an effective mental attack.
But after one failure, the same method is clearly impossible to use again.
Dorianâs choice is simple: almost lay bare to utilize the gift on Sara, switching to a more physical method to obstruct.
Though this method is a bit too physical.
Fu Qian feels he can somewhat study fluid dynamics on that body.
At the moment, the latter is still proliferating, already spilling from the stairs as if stuffing this underground space with sausage filling.
However, luckily, the speed is limited, leaving some room to dodge for the time being.
The troubling part is the crying in his mind, rising again.
Itâs not that Hilaryâs influence is being suppressed, allowing the crying to be heard again.
The previous influence doesnât weaken at all, even accumulating to new heightsâjust the extent of the cryingâs growth is more exaggerated.
At one point, Fu Qian almost felt it was a God crying at him, rather than offspring.
And the resulting effect, apart from the growing difficulty in controlling consciousness amidst the dual tearing, thereâs evenâ
Poof!
Stepping back to let the Sara flow onto him slowly, Fu Qian turns around and thrusts his left chest.
This time, he extracts not a viscous blood clot, but a pulsing heart.
Sizzle!
The other hand isnât idle either, instantly reaching into the bloody hole in the chest and pulling out a blood clot several times larger than the heart.
Indeed, just like the crying surpassed the dream boundary, the curse it brought is the same.
Moments ago, with the deafening cry, the strength of Heart Strike also surged.
Thankfully, for a professional like him, a change in target purged the Heart Strike temporarily.
Casually returning the heart inside, Fu Qian examines the "mouth" in the mass ahead.
Clearly, the latter canât emit meaningful syllables.
"Well said!"
No worries, I can speak.
With thunderous approval of Saraâs earlier statement, Fu Qianâs full-powered Gospel Blast locks onto and blows her away.
Crying from the real Divine Beings? Then cry even louder for me.
...
Indeed, itâs louder.
The Gospel, which could enlighten essential spirituality, is truly extraordinary.
In that instant, the cry in consciousness surges again, seemingly overpowering even Hilaryâs momentum.
Roarâ
Simultaneously, a painful, frenzied howl emerges from that deformed giant mouth, forming a duet outside consciousness.
Seems like itâs still not working.
Though as Fu Qian attentively listens amidst discomfort, he finally delivers a pessimistic conclusion.
Such actions arenât due to sadism, but when that cry seemingly from a Superior Being emerged, he did expect a bit.
This high-ranking, piercing power from the self; could it perhaps offer a breakthrough to the current predicament?
This operation was initially his and Dorianâs ambitious pursuit; he needed all means to handle himself, and he needed all means from him.
Unfortunately, with such smooth development, the gift Sara brought ultimately seems ordinary.
Itâs indeed a significant threat, but fundamentally itâs just potent power in his parallel space.
Bangâ
And it seems thatâs its limit.
With a dull explosion, the surging fleshy oil bursts forth.
Under the eerie calm post-Gospel Blast, Sara can endure no more and explodes.
And amidst the exceedingly unpleasant odor, Fu Qian is naturally first to bear the brunt with no escape.
Nonetheless, his face remains virtually unaffected, as he cleverly uses the "high collar" on both shoulders to block it.
Not that there arenât special ways to avoid, like Blood Conquest.
But in doing so, both Hilarys would probably fall, forcing a termination of dual chanting, which he wouldnât be pleased to see.
And moments later, as the blockage ahead flows down to his feet, Fu Qian shakes himself off and ascends with resolution.
No dawn seen, still need effort.
In theory, there should be threeâno, four people left in the cathedral above.
With continuous ascent, gradually clearer perception brings an unexpected yet anticipated message.
As he steps onto the last level of steps, once more stained, Fu Qian naturally casts his gaze toward a previously vacant spot.
Long hair, male, unfamiliar, high cheekbones.
Sitting almost symmetrically positioned to the man with the felt hat, his body stiffened with fear-induced paralysis.
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