Chapter 237: The Pure White Mask

On the desk, the original clown mask, after being fused with the characteristics of the Human Skin Shadow, had become a pure white mask with only its left half remaining, bearing no expression whatsoever.

Rekton reached out and picked up the mask, and its information surfaced in his mind one by one:

A mask crafted using the characteristics of the Human Skin Shadow, it can record the appearances of anyone the user has seen and save them, up to a maximum of five.

As long as the mask is worn on the face, it can simulate all physical characteristics of a recorded person; the closer the resemblance to the user, the more pronounced the effect.

Its transformed appearance is merely superficial — those familiar with the person can easily detect anomalies, which can only be covered up by the user's own acting.

Each use must not exceed fifty minutes, and the interval between uses must be at least two hours, otherwise this mask will gradually come alive.

"I'll call you the Pure White Mask."

Murmuring softly to the mask, Rekton rummaged through the room and found a suitable wooden box, placing the Pure White Mask inside.

Still, let's go through the proper procedure — a sense of ritual is indispensable. After a brief moment of thought, Rekton went to the adjacent room, took out a pile of ritual materials, and prepared to send this mystical item above the Gray Fog through sacrifice, for Mr. Fool to then pass on to Miss Justice.

He quickly set up the ritual and began to pray:

"The Fool who does not belong to this era, the mysterious Sovereign above the Gray Fog, the Yellow-Black King who wields good fortune."

"I pray to You."

"I pray that You open the gates of Your kingdom."

The room suddenly turned dark and cold, and an invisible gale rose abruptly.

Amidst the howling, a pitch-black, profoundly deep rift appeared above the ritual, and beside Rekton's ears came the sound of illusory doors opening.

Grayish-white mist churned before his eyes, and an invisible suction emanated from the rift, directly drawing the wooden box placed in the ritual inside.

Having sent the item above the Gray Fog, Rekton had wanted to take advantage of the ritual's still-active connection to the Gray Fog to describe the effects of this mystical item, but the rift created by the ritual abruptly vanished.

The howling gale in the room also died down, and the light returned to normal.

Severed the connection that quickly... never mind, I'll just pray separately once more.

He then took a few steps back, leaned back in his chair, and recited in a lazy posture and an insincere tone:

"The Fool who does not belong to this era, the mysterious Sovereign above the Gray Fog, the Yellow-Black King who wields good fortune."

"I wish to pray to You..."

Above the Gray Fog, within that vast, ancient palace hall, like the dwelling of a giant.

The grayish-white mist shrouding Klein dissipated completely. He sat quietly in the high-backed chair belonging to the Fool, listening to the words of Rekton's prayer.

"Posture improper, tone not devout..."

After offering these calm remarks, Klein turned his attention to the crafted mystical item:

"However, this mask seems to surpass my own abilities as a Faceless in terms of altering appearance, yet it has a certain hollow quality to it — it can only simulate outward form, unable to simulate another person's scent, or even deeper details such as temperament."

"So, the shapeshifting ability granted by the Faceless potion is a product of the combination of the Thousand-Faced Hunter and the Human Skin Shadow with my own human body?"

"Although the Faceless is inferior to the Human Skin Shadow itself in terms of changing physical form, it is far more convincing — even with sufficient understanding of the target, the target themselves might not be able to tell the real from the fake."

"But Miss Justice, as a Spectator, observing others' characteristics is her forte to begin with, so this mystical item suits her quite well."

After murmuring to himself for a moment, Klein captured the words Rekton had just conveyed through prayer and tossed them toward the deep red star representing Miss Justice.

Miss Justice's response came quickly; in a brief moment, the deep red star representing her rippled with a layer of deep red.

Klein extended his own spirituality, touching that deep red star, and the deep red light spread rapidly like a tide.

Miss Justice's joyful voice, making no attempt to conceal her mood, echoed above the Gray Fog:

"Thank You for the notification, Mr. Fool. Please tell Mr. World and Mr. White Tower that I will have the corresponding gold pounds ready tomorrow morning, and will transfer them to them through sacrifice and bestowal."

"Mm... also, I am very satisfied with this mystical item. It suits me well."

After hearing Miss Justice's words, Klein turned to look at Miss Justice's position and chuckled softly:

"This Tarot Club cannot do without Miss Justice."

"Another sum of income accounted for — not having to worry about potion ingredients is good indeed. I actually have a substantial balance now."

After tossing a fragment of Miss Justice's words toward the deep red star representing Rekton, Klein simulated the sensation of falling and left this space above the Gray Fog.

In the Land Abandoned by God, within that half-ruined temple of the True Creator.

Derrick looked warily at the small boy behind the altar — he had nearly swung the Hurricane Axe in his hand just now.

In his understanding, anything that could survive in pure darkness for so long could only be all manner of monsters — certainly not humans.

Colin, the Chief of Silver City, seemed to have his eyes grow a bit brighter. He tightened his grip on his sword, then asked in a calm voice:

"What are you doing here?"

The yellow-haired little boy said with a somewhat pained expression:

"We are searching for the Lord's sanctuary."

"The Lord's sanctuary?" Colin pressed with confusion.

The little boy turned his head to gaze at the pitch-black cross and the inverted hanging figure, murmuring:

"They told me that as long as I travel in the direction of the Lord's gaze, keep going forward, I will reach His sanctuary."

Colin's eyes rotated on their own like some kind of monster's, taking in everything around them.

He then controlled his voice, maintaining his previous calm demeanor, and said:

"Where are they?"

The little boy's expression went blank for a moment, as if losing himself.

Suddenly, he clutched his throat, his voice and expression twisting:

"I'm so hungry... so hungry..."

Amid nearly delirious words, he jerked his head up, his mouth splitting open, stretching all the way to the base of his ears, revealing a mouthful of gleaming white, perfectly aligned teeth, with viscous saliva continuously pouring out.

He lunged forward rapidly, so fast that broken afterimages remained in his original spot.

Thud!

He crashed into an invisible wall, his body suspended in midair, black-red light suddenly surging from him, sizzling as it corroded the transparent barrier blocking his path.

On the other side, Chief Ke Lin had at some point knelt on one knee, driving his straight sword, smeared with silver-gray ointment, into the ground.

Pure, bright morning light suddenly enveloped the entire area where the altar stood.

In the next instant, he violently drew his sword and rose; his figure strangely split, forming layer upon layer of afterimages that spread all around the altar.

Each silhouette raised the sword in its hand, combining with the surrounding morning light to burst forth bright radiance.

Numerous straight swords condensed from morning-light rays thrust out, swarming to gather before the little boy.

In an instant, the surroundings became brilliant as if the sun had risen.

This was a light storm far stronger than that of the Dawn Knight, completely forming a curtain of light with no gaps whatsoever.

The little boy, whose silhouette bore black and red, quickly evaporated, vanishing within this attack.

The abnormally bright light made Daileke feel slightly uncomfortable, causing him to close his eyes briefly.

After a momentary lapse, upon opening his eyes again, the surroundings were a quietly burning bonfire and the personnel responsible for guarding the camp.

At that moment, Chief Ke Lin, sitting cross-legged beside a stone pillar, opened his eyes and said in a low voice:

Depart after fifty lightning strikes.

Thinking of the imminent confrontation with the temple of the True Creator, Daileke felt uneasy deep down and tightened his grip on the Hurricane Axe.

All members of the exploration team silently made their own preparations.

This strange, repeating scene went unnoticed by anyone, including the Chief of Silver City, Ke Lin, who was a Sequence Four Demon Hunter.

Everyone unconsciously repeated the action they had performed countless times before.

Beikelande, Mingsike Jie.

Leikdun gazed with a solemn expression at the pitch-black, heavy humanoid shadow before him.

Just moments ago, he had received a letter from his mother sent via the channel of the Knowledge Church, and while pondering how to reply, the shadow beneath his feet suddenly seemed to come alive, twisting free of him and crawling onto the bookshelf ahead.

Seeing the shadow standing upright before him, an inexplicable sense of familiarity made Leikdun resist the impulse to smother it with a flame of light; he opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Are you worried that I will affect you?

The voice of Sasilier emanated from the pitch-black humanoid shadow.

Leikdun narrowed his eyes slightly and, lost in thought, spoke:

Your condition has recovered quickly; the last time I encountered the evil spirit of Meidiqi, did Yadang give you aid?

Although phrased as a question, Leikdun's words were spoken with great certainty.

Ever since I accidentally encountered Meidiqi last time, the Sasilier residing within me has lain dormant until just now.

One could say that, through some influence, he plunged me into a deep slumber, leaving me unable to perceive the outside world or respond.

However, correspondingly, to avoid provoking my instinctive resistance, this influence is positive, which has improved my condition somewhat.

Leikdun nodded slightly, not surprised by this result; essentially, they are the same person, Sasilier's improved state likewise benefits their eventual fusion, sparing them the need to expend extra energy resisting the madness of the True Creator.

Meidiqi, what do you plan to do? Have another you go fetch him back to your side?

Yadang would not agree, not now; Meidiqi, who excels at weaving conspiracies, using a term more familiar to you, should be called the 'intellect officer,' and he, by the True Creator's side, falls into that category.

Once I regain my angelic status, I will personally seek out Meidiqi and find a way to resolve his current condition.

(End of Chapter)