Chapter 465: A Meng Passing By

Zatewen's expression froze instantly, his spiritual intuition screamed wildly, as if something bad had already happened.

He inhaled deeply, his face solemn as he scanned the surroundings for a while, but found nothing; only the silver‑white liquid on the floor was slowly flowing, gradually coalescing into a closed circle.

"Something's off, a dangerous event seems to have occurred, yet nothing here shows any sign of abnormality, except"

He muttered softly, lowering his eyes to the silver‑white circle on the ground—the only oddity in the room.

He took a step back, and his figure suddenly became transparent and ethereal, like a genuine vengeful spirit.

Finding no reflective surface to cling to, he planned to enter the spirit realm and wander away from here.

The transparent, ethereal figure thinned rapidly; at the instant it was about to vanish, something seemed triggered, and the room's scene blurred for a heartbeat. When clarity returned, he was back at the same spot, a moment before leaving the mirror world.

"Damn, the scattered blood I didn't have time to clean will surely be used. That guy is a prophecy master; divination and tracking are his strengths. Is this the special trait of the Divine Favored? He was barely promoted to Sequence Four the last time we fought Maihamusi."

Just as the thought floated, the dim, dark mirror world around suddenly brightened; crimson moonlight illuminated everything, rendering the previously unreal scene crystal clear.

Zatewen halted in suspicion, his gaze wary as he looked around, trying to locate the hidden influence.

In the next instant, he spun sharply backward, staring at the painted glass window behind him; it was empty save for a pool of silver‑white liquid on the floor, which perfectly outlined a closed circle.

"Why isn't the glass broken? No, why did I expect the glass to shatter now? How did I exit the mirror world and appear here?"

Zatewen couldn't attend to the wound on his chest still twitching with regeneration; he tried to connect with something, his spiritual intuition constantly warning that he was trapped in a bizarre situation.

"You seem in a hurry; why not tell me, perhaps I can help," a deliberately lowered voice sounded behind him without any discord.

Zatewen felt his half‑healed heart throb violently twice, a tearing pain snapping his thoughts back; startled, he turned toward the source of the voice.

He saw a glossy black raven with a ring of white eye‑shadow around its right eye, perched on a wooden chair pressed against the wall, its presence unexplained.

His vision blurred briefly; the raven transformed into a figure wearing a black classical robe, a matching pointed soft hat, black curls, black eyes, lounging gracefully on the chair, fiddling with a single crystal‑cut monocle.

"A Meng!" Zatewen froze for a moment, then quickly recognized the person, and in his astonishment stepped back half a pace.

"Who would have thought members of the Rose School actually know me? Looks like my fame is fairly high after all."

A Meng tugged at the corner of his mouth, flashing an insincere smile, twirled the edge of the monocle, then placed it over his right eye.

Ignoring Zatewen's doubtful and wary gaze, he chuckled lightly and said:

"I was just passing by, drawn by the unusual fate fluctuations here, and never expected to witness such a splendid drama."

"A battlefield turned into a tangled mess, even those so‑called righteous gods and the starry‑sky folk got involved. Unfortunately, the red‑moon glare is too bright, and some deliberately conceal it; otherwise we could see the true colors of the constellations tonight."

"I haven't seen such a magnificent drama in ages, so I couldn't help but want to join. After all, even my paranoid elder brother sneaked into this revelry!"

"…What?" Zatewen's eyes widened in shock at A Meng, his figure becoming ethereal and transparent as he stepped back.

With his movement, the room's scene shattered instantly, rewinding like a reverse of time.

"Damn, the scattered blood I didn't have time to clean will surely be used. That guy is a prophecy master; divination and tracking are his strengths. Is this the special trait of the Divine Favored? He was barely promoted to Sequence Four the last time we fought Maihamusi."

Zatewen only felt his mind flicker; the dim, dark mirror world around suddenly brightened, crimson moonlight illuminating everything, making the previously unreal scene crystal clear again.

A Meng lounged on the wooden chair by the wall, raised an eyebrow at the reappearing Zatewen, and said calmly:

"Why are you in such a rush? I hadn't finished speaking when the reset triggered; I don't enjoy repeating words I've already said."

As he spoke, his right hand held a black glove that he wore on his left hand.

Before Zatewen could process the suddenly appearing A Meng and his words, he saw him reaching for the black glove on his left hand.

Instinctively he looked down at his left hand, which was empty; the glove that should have been there had vanished.

"When… exactly?" Zatewen's pupils dilated slightly, his tone full of disbelief and astonishment.

A Meng smiled lightly and looked up at him:

"When you were speaking just now, you listened too earnestly; you accidentally triggered this place's peculiarity, entered a loop, so I had to temporarily store that glove for you."

The black glove was now on A Meng's left hand; he casually tightened his fist, and the glove, which had clung to his skin, instantly emitted specks of gray‑white light that swirled around his palm, outlining a time worm with twelve transparent segments.

The translucent, ethereal time worm writhed wildly in midair, then slowly merged into A Meng's body, causing his aura to solidify noticeably.

Zatewen sensed the change in A Meng, his expression momentarily stunned, his deeply sunken eyes filled with anger.

"Hmph!"

He slightly opened his mouth, his throat rippling to emit a cold snort that could pierce eardrums and wound spirits.

The sound vanished abruptly the moment it left his mouth.

"Be quieter, you mutants always love to shout—does only screaming give you a sense of safety?"

A Meng frowned slightly, his tone a bit impatient, as if dealing with a child who kept shouting high notes in his ear.

Zatewen's face turned cold, malicious intent flowing unmistakably in his eyes, a feeling of degeneration brewing in the silence.

His gaze fixed on A Meng, as if once he confirmed the other's reality, he would rush forward to deliver a fatal blow.

"Your thoughts are tainted with a foul stench, as rankle as the abyss; have you been soaked by that Desire Mother Tree? Did you ever bear her a child?"

"Ha, besides dismembering, have you no other means of torment?"

A Meng reclined leisurely on the chair, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, his voice warm and even, yet always able to stir emotions.

"." Zatewen cracked his somewhat dry, cracked mouth, his expression snarling, as if emitting a silent scream; a strong curse surged outward with his mouth opening.

A Meng's figure instantly twisted; a layer of slick, viscous liquid oozed from his skin, turning it deep green as his body contorted, reshaping toward a frog.

As his form changed, A Meng "lost" most of his traits and extraordinary abilities, becoming a genuine frog.

Zatewen watched this slowly curl his lips, knowing he had guessed correctly; this A Meng was merely a Sequence Four-level duplicate.

He extended a dark‑red tongue, licked his mouth corner, the malice in his eyes growing clearer, as if he already decided how to deal with the frog.

Zatewen looked down at the bewildered frog on the ground, tugged at his mouth corner, and mockingly said:

"Ribbit~"

"Ribbit? Ribbit!"

Huh? What's happening? Why am I croaking like a frog?

Zatewen terrifiedly discovered everything around him had enlarged several times, even the colors faded. No, it's not the surroundings that grew; my body shrank!

Uneasy thoughts piled in Zatewen's mind one after another; a faint insight emerged, yet he dared not believe it.

". Really interesting!"

"A Meng half-squatted, chuckling as he lowered his head to look down at the frog beside his feet that had only half a heart left, muttering to himself:"

"This ability of exchanging fate's ability is quite interesting, you say it is?"

"I almost forgot, tenacious life-force anomalous species can still survive even after losing their heart, but ordinary frogs don't have this ability."

"A Meng said to himself, on the floor beside his feet lay a frog with dry, cracked skin, having lost half its heart, motionless, its legs stretched straight, revealing a pale yellowish-white belly."

"The frog's eyes were somewhat sunken, staring dead-eyed at the ceiling, as if glaring at whoever had previously stood before it."

"Tiny gray-white light points precipitated from the frog's corpse, their speed gradually increasing, in a moment the continually floating light points flooded the entire room, then began to slowly flow and converge, forming an inwardly collapsing vortex."

"Those precipitated characteristics remerged into the frog's corpse on the ground, and a brilliant white light shone around it."

"(End of chapter)"