Chapter 2395 - 2390: The Prophet Is Dead (Part 1)

Chapter 2395: Chapter 2390: The Prophet Is Dead (Part 1)

Is it really that exaggerated? Calculating the time, it’s not been long since the last Logan rescue operation.

The task briefing unfolds before him, and at that moment, Fu Qian has plenty of musings.

Given the task introduction clearly mentions the Unseen Hillock and speaks of old friends, the location doesn’t seem to be in doubt.

Next, the first issue needing consideration is why the nest turned gray.

Honestly, based on the previous understanding, this dimension described as "unbelievable" by the warehouse should have decent stability.

The Prophet, destiny... The monotony brought by these things even makes certain Demigod Transcendents find it unbearable.

And back then, it was explicitly confirmed that regardless of the destiny the roles inside go through, they will ultimately recycle and be reborn.

It looks like a very closed system, hard to imagine a huge change happening in such a short time.

But since this issue doesn’t have an answer for now, one might as well go for something simpler: what does turning gray look like—where’s the gray?

As thoughts race, the scene before him becomes clearer.

Though the lighting isn’t great, Fu Qian expresses a sense of familiarity.

Beautifully decorated, empty, and swaying slightly, though the soft cushion beneath his seat nicely buffers this...

A carriage?

It’s easy to recognize what kind of space he’s currently sitting in.

The key point is Fu Qian remembers quite clearly; the initial visit to the Unseen Hillock had an identical opening.

A classical mode of transportation in the city, solely contracted... even the exquisite interior at a glance seems identical.

...

Where’s the gray? Isn’t it perfectly fine?

Not only is it confirmed as the familiar opening, but even in the rhythmic jolting, Fu Qian doesn’t need to pull the curtain aside to know the carriage rides smoothly.

Perhaps a bit quieter, but considering the lighting suggests it’s evening, it seems reasonable.

This elevates the task introduction to be even more intriguing.

Besides, even in dim lighting, it doesn’t hinder Fu Qian from discerning his current appearance in the polished ashtray opposite him.

Even the hairstyle and facial features remain consistent with those of the past.

The notoriously stingy warehouse, this time, not only used effort to mold a face but did so in an extremely nostalgic style.

Fu Qian believes if he walks around with this face, it’s easy for old friends to recognize him.

However, the problem is that reminiscing with old friends might lack goodwill, despite once being honored as a savior.

Recalling what he did during his last visit here, Fu Qian shakes his head inwardly at that moment.

Meeting old acquaintances doesn’t need to be bloody right away.

With such sentiments, his face rapidly stretches into transformation.

Being a flesh-and-blood expert, making dramatic changes to his appearance is his specialty, even after Mechanical Ascension.

Yet this time, the stretching seems a bit excessive, and within a second, the transformation has become somewhat anthropomorphic.

It’s certainly not a controlling issue; Fu Qian has no intention of adjusting it, allowing this exaggeration to intensify.

Ultimately, a face resembling Vajra’s Furious Eyes, solemn in its expression, silently appears there.

Careful observation reveals a mask tightly fitting with a clear delineation from beneath.

Right, the Grand Fate Ming Emperor.

Fu Qian’s action was simple; instead of routinely switching faces, he directly generated a mask, hanging it there in a semi-permanent manner.

Though it is quite impactful in design, it complements the lively atmosphere of the Unseen Hillock.

Regarding the intent, it’s not heartless—it doesn’t mean old friends won’t recognize him.

It’s widely known that more striking than old faces is the old face revealed when the mask is removed.

So, walking with this look around here seems a fitting resolution to earlier concerns.

Keeping it on for those who bear grudges to avoid excessive excitement.

Removing it for those with lower resentment, better for reminiscing amidst stark contrast.

Simply perfect.

Surveying his appearance side to side, Fu Qian is extremely satisfied with this idea.

Additionally, according to plot development, there ought to be the grand appearance of a rooftop billboard now, right?

...

Indeed, it’s hard to meet.

Fu Qian refers to the grand appearance naturally of the alien dropping from the sky, cutting the carriage in half.

He has experienced that more than once.

Sadly, until obviously running over time, the open renovation and the Clown’s hearty laughter have not materialized.

The abstract player, discontent with fate, hasn’t shown up this time.

Even the Demigod hunting squad’s hindrance is absent, the carriage continues its smooth journey.

Has it really changed with the passage of time?

With such sentiments, time ticks by, as Fu Qian exhibits what it means to be patient as a professional.

No grand appearance or task target emerging, he doesn’t even pull back the curtain to observe, letting the carriage carry him onward.

But it’s not completely fruitless; on one hand, the carriage’s route continuously sketches itself in his mind, on the other, the route of a carriage behind follows likewise.

Indeed, the sound of wheels rolling, almost harmoniously.

From the beginning till now, another carriage has persistently followed behind.

No matter the speed, no matter the direction, perfectly embodying the theory of staying in step, maintaining the same distance.

Haven’t seen for days—is the transportation pressure so high that doubling the transportation power is needed?

The key is, it doesn’t seem to have any passengers.

Amid concerns of resource waste, Fu Qian eventually raises his hand to pull open the curtain beside him.

Because the carriage stopped.

...

In this contest of patience, it appears he’s gained a slight advantage.

Though at first glance, it’s purely accidental.

While the carriage’s progress halted, it isn’t entirely motionless, swaying back and forth, and even tilting a bit.

From this angle, one finds the reason—its wheels sunk into a muddy spot.

Though the depth is limited, the black sludge appears particularly viscous, leaving the two horses pulling the carriage quite exhausted.

Fortunately, the carriage behind also stopped immediately, avoiding a collision.

Even with the road wide enough, there’s no intention to bypass, almost as if it’s on auto-follow.

It’s not an arbitrary metaphor—there’s indeed another carriage, with a similar design.

Moreover, most conspicuous is the coachman’s position being vacant.

Interesting.

Fu Qian then opens another curtain.

It proves there’s no development of driverless technology—the coachman of this carriage sits calmly.

Though a bit too composed, showing no reaction to the situation.

In the shadowy night, a trickle of identical black emerges slowly from one ear.

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