Chapter 234: Full‑Moon Ramblings

Rekton's gaze subconsciously swept to his left arm. Medichi hadn't even noticed his presence, and he himself didn't react either.

The short-tailed cat seemed to read Rekton's thoughts and said in an even tone:

"Adam doesn't want Medichi to return to the True Creator's side right now."

"Then can I go find Medichi myself?"

Rekton's eyes flickered as he said.

"He doesn't want to, so you won't find Medichi, who would then be only a demon spirit."

After speaking, the short-tailed cat rose from the stone pedestal and, after a few leaps, vanished into the shadows at the street corner.

Retracting his gaze, Rekton exhaled, hoping such accidents wouldn't happen again; not every time can someone come to the rescue.

That feathered pen somehow led me straight into a red‑angel demon spirit that had just left the ruins; this isn't a script Insi Zangweier could write—he doesn't understand these matters. Did this morning's incident cause it to launch a retaliatory self‑rescue?

Insi Zangweier didn't appear nearby; was he silently led away?

He pondered for a moment, then shook his head.

Hoo— he let out a long sigh, looked up at the moon that was beginning to emerge faintly.

He immediately withdrew his gaze, reached out to open a "door" to the spirit realm in midair, and stepped through.

West District, Karl Pengsa Inn.

Rekton's figure flashed quickly, outlining itself in the room where Lawrence was.

Lawrence sat by the window, his anxious eyes fixed on the sky outside; he had long been waiting for tonight's full moon.

Sensing the spiritual fluctuation in the room, Lawrence turned his head, and upon seeing Rekton, his expression visibly relaxed.

"Good evening, Mr. Lawrence."

Rekton smiled and stepped forward to greet him.

"Good evening, I was just worried you might break your word."

Lawrence did not hide his earlier worry.

Rekton dragged a chair over, sat back, and gently rubbed his brow as he said:

"A promise already made, I naturally won't break, but I ran into some trouble on the way here, which delayed me a bit."

"Trouble?" Lawrence repeated softly.

Seeing that Rekton didn't seem eager to continue the topic, Lawrence didn't press further and instead said:

"The moon is about to rise; what method do you intend to use to shield me from the full‑moon ramblings?"

"I'll give you a reverent name; pray to that being, and it will protect you during the full‑moon ramblings."

Rekton chuckled lightly as he said.

Seeing Lawrence's expression grow serious, Rekton gave a heavy, slight nod before uttering the Fool's reverent name:

"The Fool not of this era, the Mysterious Ruler above the Gray Mist, the Yellow‑Black King who commands good fortune."

Closing his eyes slightly, Lawrence firmly memorized the three‑part reverent name, then reopened his eyes and solemnly nodded:

"Do we need to prepare any ceremony?"

"No, this is just a trial; if it fails, I'll use other methods to shield you from the ramblings during the full moon."

Rekton gave a slight shake of his head in response.

Lawrence furrowed his brow slightly and asked in puzzlement:

"Why try first instead of using other methods directly?"

"That would be too troublesome, and not easy to spread to everyone for prayer, right? The red moon has already begun to faintly appear tonight."

Lawrence turned his head to look outside; the scarlet moonlight was already flickering faintly.

He immediately nodded heavily, walked to a nearby armchair, sat down, took a deep breath, clasped his hands together before his mouth and nose, closed his eyes, and began to chant softly:

"The Fool not of this era, the Mysterious Ruler above the Gray Mist, the Yellow‑Black King who commands good fortune;"

"I pray to you"

Just after returning from the Steam Church to Mingsike Jie, Craine heard the layered whispers faintly rising at his ear.

Prayer, a male voice, somewhat hoarse—was that Mr. Lawrence?

Craine hurried inside, closed the doors and windows, entered the washroom, walked back four steps, and entered the realm above the Gray Mist.

Within a grand ancient palace, a new deep‑red star began to sparkle, sending out concentric ripples around it.

Craine instantly radiated his spirit, spreading into the deep‑red light which surged like a tide, coalescing into a scene.

In the vision, an elderly man in a heavy wool coat and a semi‑tall black top hat was praying to him; nearby, sitting a short distance away, was Rekton, whom he had met that morning.

"Lawrence?" Craine whispered.

Rekton had already spoken to him about Lawrence, so this prayer to himself wasn't unexpected.

He reached into the clutter and summoned a paper figure he had cut, one hand gripping a Black Emperor card, the other holding a dark‑gold sun‑bird brooch.

Skillfully infusing spirit, he poured the power of the manipulated Gray Mist and his own spirit into the paper figure.

Then, with a casual posture, he tossed the paper figure toward the prayer light representing Lawrence.

In the inn room, Lawrence repeated the prayer three times.

He felt no feedback, yet he didn't lose heart; such a response from a great being was already within his expectations—how could it be obtained so easily?

Lawrence steadied his emotions, preparing for a fourth prayer.

Suddenly, a dense gray‑white mist filled his vision; he seemed to see a massive ancient palace, and in front of it sat a majestic figure seated within the Gray Mist.

The figure appeared to overlook all of the world, gently waving an arm, and a golden silhouette bearing twelve black wings emerged, drawing nearer.

Until the golden figure enveloped him with layers upon layers of wings.

Angel? Or a great archangel with twelve pairs of wings. Lawrence was briefly speechless; he didn't know how to express his current feeling.

He had indeed prayed to the deities for mercy before, but had never received a response.

"Thank you, honored Mr. Fool."

After the golden angel's voice disappeared, Laolunsi whispered in a very respectful tone.

Whether it works or not, a great being's non‑malicious response already means a lot.

As his thoughts turned, Laolunsi caught sight of the scarlet full moon revealed outside the window; for a moment, he felt as if he heard that familiar babbling voice.

But the next instant, those sounds seemed to shift to an unknown realm, and the maddening babble vanished from his ears.

Taking a deep breath, Laolunsi steadied his excitement, turned his head toward Leikedun and said:

"It really worked! The babbling voices from the full moon are gone from my mind!"

Leikedun smiled and nodded, saying:

"The night is still long; the full‑moon babble will linger for a while. We can sit and chat to pass the time."

"No problem. Do you prefer coffee or black tea?"

Laolunsi's voice carried a sense of relief.

"Coffee," Leikedun replied with a gentle nod.

"One moment," Laolunsi moved aside and, with practiced motions, began brewing coffee.

In a short while, he returned carrying two cups of coffee and handed one to Leikedun, saying:

"When I came to Beikelande I didn't bring any coffee beans, so we have to make do with the hotel's coffee."

"Not bad," Leikedun said, taking a light sip and giving his assessment.

Laolunsi also tasted his coffee, his gaze toward the full moon outside growing increasingly distant.

After a long while, he spoke as if recalling and muttering to himself:

"I've almost forgotten what a full moon looks like. The last time I saw one was before I became an extraordinary being; I had just come of age then."

"The babbling of the full moon caused the once‑prominent Yabolaohan family to fall into ruin, now without even a Sequence Six extraordinary."

"When you claimed you could help the Yabolaohan family solve the full‑moon babble issue, I didn't believe you; I only thought you were after the powerful magical items we possess."

Leikedun listened quietly, suppressing the awkward urge to rub his nose, and when Laolunsi finished speaking, he replied:

"Most of those angel families of old are no longer what they once were."

"Only the Seven Gods remain, forever lofty above us."

Laolunsi fell silent, then with a wry smile shook his head and said:

"Seven Gods—if that ancestor of our Yabolaohan family hadn't vanished, He might already have joined the Seven Gods."

"Unfortunately, there are no ifs. Our Yabolaohan family now merely clings to a precarious existence."

Even if Mr. Men encounters no mishap, He will wait until the end times approach before ascending the divine throne. Unfortunately, the apprentice path to a higher sequence requires venturing into the starry sky; I can't think of a solution—it's too difficult.

Leikedun hurriedly restrained his wandering thoughts, stopped pondering the matter, and asked:

"Mr. Laolunsi, do you now intend to be promoted to Record Officer?"

"Your Yabolaohan family should have the requisite material reserves."

Laolunsi gave a slight nod, then shook his head again:

"If possible, I even wish to ascend to a Sequence Four demigod."

"But that's almost impossible; I'm too old, and my body is no longer youthful."

At this point, Laolunsi gave a wry smile, shook his head, and his tone gradually weakened:

"The primary ingredients for the Record Officer's demonic elixir are a complete Asiman brain and the cursed artifact of an ancient resentful spirit. The Asiman brain still exists, but the cursed artifact of the ancient resentful spirit, at least as far as I know, does not."

(End of Chapter)