In the days that followed, Truman stayed reclusive in his rented apartment.
Having established connections with three ‘evil gods’ simultaneously, he urgently needed to understand his own condition.
Truman had once been an aberration.
But now he was certain he was human.
Truman knew the Deceiver Ghost’s abilities very well.
Aberrations are immortal!
He had actually suspected before that his current self was merely ‘Truman’ implanted with Truman’s memories.
He was Truman!
But he wasn’t the Deceiver Ghost now!
But the Deceiver Ghost was definitely Truman!
“Since I can’t find the Deceiver Ghost’s whereabouts through the supernatural power hidden in my spirit body, I might as well try following the local customs.”
Truman quickly decided to design a set of ritual incantations pointing to the Deceiver Ghost, then use the incantations to contact his original self.
“The mystery that does not belong to this world.”
“You are the supernatural being that deceives reality.”
“You are the eerie existence that bears the name of Truman.”
“I pray for your help.”
“I pray for your blessing.”
“I pray for you to grant me a good dream.”
Truman’s attempt at summoning himself this time was far more solemn than his prayer to Mr.
Fool.
He bathed and changed clothes, carried no spiritual items, and constructed a spiritual wall to enclose the restroom.
He lit four candles on the sink before him, using the spirituality within his spirit body to stimulate the hidden supernatural power.
As Truman prayed, a vast, illusory, colorless dark river suddenly appeared in his mind.
It sometimes swelled high, sometimes fell low, sometimes grew deep and dark, sometimes pale and washed out…
As Truman’s mind unconsciously became immersed in the illusory ebb and flow, a bone-chilling coldness suddenly pierced through his body straight to his soul.
The coldness instantly drained Truman’s spirituality and startled his closing eyes back open.
Gasp!
Gasp!
Gasp!
Truman collapsed to the floor, drenched in cold sweat, gasping for breath.
He had almost fallen asleep without realizing it.
He had a strong premonition that if he truly fell asleep in that illusory dark tide, he would never wake up again. The source of this chapter is novelping.com.
“The breath of death!
What was that thing?
The Styx?”
This near-death experience gave Truman quite a shock.
Now he finally understood why trying to contact the Deceiver Ghost had always given him an inexplicable sense of dread.
However, to Truman’s surprise, even though he had interrupted the prayer ritual due to spiritual exhaustion, his body temperature continued to drop at an abnormal rate.
His skin gradually grew pale, as if his life was constantly draining away.
“The Source of All Catastrophes…”
Truman had no choice now.
He could only hope that the Primordial Demoness would be willing to give him a hand.
However, just as Truman began to recite the prayer incantation, the supernatural power deep within his spirit body seemed stimulated by something.
A faint gray-white mist appeared around Truman.
Truman recognized the source of the gray mist—it was the mysterious fog that filled Mr.
Fool’s grand palace.
And as the gray mist enveloped his entire body, Truman’s body, which had been eroded by the illusory pale river, also recovered.
“What is this?”
Truman held his forehead, looking somewhat pained at the gray mist around him.
The appearance of this mist had consumed his already scarce spirituality.
After confirming that his body had escaped the erosion of ‘death,’ Truman’s eyes rolled back and he passed out cold.
When he woke up again, the sky outside had completely darkened.
Truman walked out of the restroom, holding his somewhat aching brow.
This attempt had been very risky, but the gains were substantial.
At least he hadn’t waited until he was on the verge of death to contemplate whether he still harbored unknown powers.
“I need some recent intelligence on Tingen City.
That Antigonus family notebook is extremely dangerous, but its owner may not necessarily be that dangerous.”
Truman wasn’t sure if his borrowing of some gray fog power through supernatural means had already drawn Mr.
Fool’s attention.
Regardless of whether his actions had been discovered, he needed to proactively apologize.
And the only things Mr.
Although Truman had also collected some of Emperor Roselle’s diary entries, he didn’t think those gossipy tidbits and supernatural knowledge would be of any help to a deity.
According to the principle of equivalent exchange, the Antigonus family notebook was the safer bet.
Having made up his mind, Truman put on a black trench coat, pulled the wide hood low to conceal his face, and stepped out.
He glanced back at the statue of the Primordial Demoness displayed in the room’s cabinet.
A hazy, deep-blue illusory door appeared, and Truman’s figure vanished into the night.
Since advancing to Astrologer and gaining anti-divination abilities, Truman no longer carried the Primordial Demoness statue with him at all times.
Although he knew anti-divination wasn’t infallible, he also believed that no one would be bored enough to perform divination while using the toilet.
Anyone who would do that would never become a mid-sequence Beyonder, and thus couldn’t pose a threat to him.
Whoosh!
Truman moved through the night like a hawk, using the shadows of the city to avoid the crimson moonlight.
The black trench coat concealed his figure like a curtain draped over him by the night itself.
The various strange abilities granted by the Trickmaster were flashy and versatile—except for combat.
Following the intelligence he had gathered and the guidance of astrology, Truman arrived at an ordinary house on Zouteland Street.
He cast a wary glance at the location of 36 Zouteland Street, then quickly passed through an illusory door and slipped into the house before him.
On this street stood Blackthorn Security Company—the headquarters of the Evernight Church’s Nighthawks team in Tingen City.
Truman didn’t want to provoke the official forces in Tingen for now; that would seriously affect his subsequent plans.
Truman understood the difference between anti-gang operations and counter-terrorism.
The orthodox churches possessed far too much power for ordinary Beyonders to challenge.
Like a cat, Truman moved silently through the living room following spiritual guidance and entered a bedroom.
Through the gap in the curtains, faint moonlight revealed a quietly sleeping brown-haired girl.
Truman didn’t disturb the girl’s rest.
He quietly moved to the window, pulled the curtains shut, and left no gap.
After closing the curtains, he walked to the girl’s bedside, looked at her sleeping face, and took out a bottle of perfume, gently spraying it around.
That was perfume distilled from Slumber Flower essence—a herb belonging to the crimson moon domain in mysticism, with sleep-inducing effects.
Believers of the Evernight Goddess probably liked that scent.
+++
T/N: Truman: no one would be bored enough to perform divination while using the toilet.
Mr.
Fool: I need to use the restroom.
*closes door, enters Sefirah Castle*
T/N: Thanks for reading!