Truman was very measured.
The black flames that burned life and spirituality were flicked away, while the solid frost spears were intercepted by the black flames burning on his staff.
After a fierce battle, Trissy’s residence had largely escaped major damage.
“Mist Concealment!”
Noticing Trissy’s attack momentum waning, Truman quickly created a large amount of white mist to obscure the field of vision.
Using his door-opening ability, he passed through two walls in succession and left Trissy’s hideout.
After Truman hurriedly left, he quickly tossed away the staff that was about to be consumed by the black flames.
Without the suppression of the curses, the staff created by minor spells was quickly devoured by the black flames.
“Tsk.
I’ll have to replenish the consumed curses when I get back.”
Truman looked at the disappearing curse threads and sighed.
These had all been painstakingly cultivated with spirituality.
A Trickmaster could master many spells and spell-like abilities.
Although their power was generally low, the variety was extensive.
But aside from a few spells inherited from the potion, most spells had to be learned and mastered independently.
One could either create their own or learn spells left by predecessors.
Truman’s supernatural mentor was from the Demoness pathway, and they specialized in various curses and black magic.
So, through constant exposure, he had learned a great deal as well.
Turning curses into threads entwined around the spirit body could both suppress his keen inspiration and resist hypnotic methods—a true multi-purpose solution!
….
Truman walked along the Tussock River to a secluded, uninhabited suburb.
Mr.
Fool had requested that all members of the Tarot Club cooperate with Him in a small experiment before Wednesday.
None of the Tarot Club members dared to object, and the matter was tacitly agreed upon.
Out of his own little scheme, Truman neither stayed in an enclosed room nor prepared the corresponding ritual materials.
He simply touched the crystal ball on his left hand and silently murmured to himself.
“Oh Fool who does not belong to this era.”
“You are the mysterious ruler above the gray fog.”
“You are the King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck.”
“I beg for your help.”
“I beg for your blessing.”
“I beg you to grant me a good dream.”
“Deep Sleep Flower, a herb belonging to the crimson moon, please pass your power to my incantation.”
“Golden Citron, a herb belonging to the sun, please pass your power to my incantation.”
Truman prayed silently, waiting for what would come next.
He couldn’t tell from the prayer words what domain of power this Mr. Find the original chapter at novelping.com.
Fool possessed.
Perhaps He was a god who wielded good fortune?
At Blackthorn Security Company, Klein excused himself with an upset stomach, went to the restroom, walked four steps backwards, and ascended above the gray fog.
After arriving at the giant’s magnificent palace, Klein reached for the crimson star representing Mr.
Lovers.
Klein had always been curious about Mr.
Lovers, because the other party seemed to also be in Tingen City.
Crimson light flashed, and Klein saw Mr.
Lovers concentrating on his prayer.
The wind in the forest stirred his silver hair.
His gray eyes were as calm as an autumn pond.
Sunlight spilled across his exquisitely beautiful features, giving one a sense of trance and unreality.
“Truman?
It’s him?
He’s also a Beyonder?”
Klein recognized Truman at a glance.
They were both students taught by Instructor Azik, making them fellow alumni.
They didn’t interact much normally, because Truman had transferred in midway and always focused on self-study after completing his initial courses.
Moreover, due to certain rumors, the students at Tingen University kept their distance from him.
In Klein’s memory, Welch McGovern had once said that Truman was a kept man—a pretty boy supported by some noble lady in Tingen’s upper class, an evil degenerate who lived off his looks.
Klein still couldn’t forget the envy, jealousy, and hatred woven across Welch’s face at the time.
“What a coincidence.
But how did he become a Beyonder?”
Klein could confirm that Truman was definitely not a Nighthawk, nor a member of the Machinery Hivemind or the Punishers.
So, was he a member of some secret organization?
Klein began to observe the environment around Truman, trying to determine his fellow alumnus’s origins through decorations or mystical symbols.
Then he saw lush forests and a babbling river.
He could even hear crisp birdsong and the chirping of insects.
“Although I did say that setting up ritual magic doesn’t need to be too formal…”
Klein’s mouth twitched, his face full of black lines as he looked at that guy who dared to fool a ‘god.’
“Where’s my altar?
The four incense candles?
The white bread?
The Feynapoter noodles?
The seafood rice?
The Desi pie?
The spiritual environment?”
“You’re just holding a crystal ball in some random open-air spot trying to fool me, aren’t you?”
Klein held his forehead in exasperation and complained.
Although those offerings meant to appease deities could be omitted, one thing was whether you could, and another was whether you actually dared to!
“Oh, that divination crystal ball looks expensive.
Could it be a Fourth Epoch antique?”
Klein’s attention was soon drawn to the crystal ball in Truman’s hand.
As a Beyonder of the Seer pathway, his spirituality told him it was an excellent divination tool.
Klein felt a pang of envy.
As an independent young man striving on his own, he fiercely condemned Mr.
Lovers’ decadent mindset in his heart, then reluctantly responded.
“I understand!”
…
“I understand!”
…
As layers of mist appeared before his eyes, a distorted and blurry figure emerged at the deepest part of his vision.
A deep red light swirled in His gaze.
Truman listened to the words echoing in his ears and instinctively narrowed his eyes, waiting for the ensuing maddening whispers that would follow.
But to his surprise, the murmurs echoing in his ears brought him no mental burden at all.
“What’s this?
Treating people differently based on who they are?”
Truman shook his head, put the statue of the Primordial Demoness back in place, and turned to leave the forest.
Similarly trapped somewhere, Mr.
Fool’s mental state seemed much more rational than Mr.
Door’s.
But he couldn’t fully confirm Mr.
Fool’s condition.
Because Mr.
Door had also seemed normal when conversing with Emperor Roselle—in fact, that Mr.
Door was even more talkative than the mysteriously reserved Mr.
Fool at the Tarot Club.
“If I judge by Emperor Roselle’s growth trajectory, at least below the demigod level it should be relatively safe.”
“Because if one hasn’t reached the demigod level, they wouldn’t have much value to beings like Them.”
Truman thought this and suddenly chuckled.
Did his path to demigodhood seem smooth and unobstructed?
+++
T/N: The Lord of Bathrooms strikes again!