Chapter 322: Delight

A sigh, as if the soul were leaving the body, spilled from his throat.

The spine he had just barely propped up seemed to have all its bones suddenly pulled away, silently sliding down and collapsing back against the wall, his gaze completely losing its spark and becoming hollow.

Kill me.

Now, immediately, at once.

This truly is… the ultimate, all‑encompassing, utterly irrecoverable… social death!

"Father!"

"Father!"

Rin and Sakura's cries rang out again, full of panic.

Saber silently averted his gaze, looking toward the other end of the alley as if studying the wall's texture, while his hand on the hilt tightened slightly.

Rider stroked his chin, curiously appraising the limp Shichen and the anxious girls beside him, then glanced at Weber's "Did I say something wrong?" expression, and finally cracked a grin, seeming to find this development more entertaining than conquering a battlefield.

Ailisi Feier was completely unaware of what kind of "finishing blow" her side had just delivered, still anxiously watching the seemingly "heavily struck" and further weakened Mr. Shichen, and clumsily began trying to gather the radiant light of healing Magic.

On another street in Dongmu City, the scene was equally jaw‑dropping.

Yan Feng Qili carefully avoided the suspicious, multicolored slick stains beneath his feet, slightly lifting the hem of his Black Priest Robe, and his movements still retained a rigid precision.

His gaze, Calm, swept across both sides of the street:

Men, women, and children either sitting or lying, or leaning against walls, bent over, faces twisted in pain, emitting incomprehensible moans;

The air filled with a sour rot mingled with other indescribable sounds forming a "symphony"; and the "spoils" on the ground and corners that one could not bear to scrutinize…

This absurd tableau, like a hellish scroll, would, if seen by an ordinary person, likely churn their stomach or instill terror.

Yet deep within Yan Feng Qili's hollow eyes, a ripple that even he had not yet fully clarified was slowly rippling outward.

(Pain… struggle… loss of composure… dignity utterly gone…)

(Such a massive… such… utterly unaesthetic, yet incredibly real… embarrassment.)

(Not caused directly by me, yet spreading because of my inaction and facilitation…)

He felt a strange… throb.

It was not pleasure, at least not the kind he had previously pursued—the scorching, sweet pleasure born from others' "ultimate suffering" or "ideal collapse".

It was more like a… subtle satisfaction, akin to watching an ant nest being doused with hot water, with a hint of curiosity.

"God, priest… save me… I… I really can't hold it… pulling again… my intestines are about to come out…"

A gray‑haired elderly man in pajamas suddenly lunged from the side, clutching Yan Feng Qili's robe sleeve tightly, his old face streaming tears and snot, a mix of pain and shame.

Yan Feng Qili looked down at him, his face still expressionless.

He extended his other hand, gently pressing it to the old man's forehead, his voice flat and even: "The Lord will forgive you. Now, rest."

A thread of Magic seeped in, the old man's eyelids fluttered, his body slumped, and he fell into a deep sleep.

Only as he fell, a fresh wet mark inevitably appeared on the back of his loose pajama pants.

Yan Feng Qili, expressionless, released the old man's feeble hand from his own robe sleeve, letting the elder slip to the ground, then silently withdrew his soiled cuff from the old man's grasp.

He glanced at the stain on the cuff, then looked up, scanning the surroundings.

The entire street, and even farther wherever his eyes could reach, replayed similar scenes.

Painful moans, embarrassed incontinence, Despairful numbness…

Humanity's most primal physiological responses, at this moment stripped of all civilised veneer, lay bare on the night street.

Yan Feng Qili stood silently, the night wind ruffling his black forelock.

Suddenly, he felt his long‑frozen‑lake‑like mindset being struck by an extremely tiny stone.

Thud.

A strand, extremely clear and undeniable… pleasure.

Cold, thin, strange, yet undeniably present.

Not because he had personally caused anything, but because the whole scene had spiraled out of control.

This pleasure was unfamiliar and faint, yet for the first time it cast a hue other than void into his hollow eyes—a trace of very faint interest.

He set foot forward, continuing onward, observing everything more closely, as if appreciating a grand street Performance Art.

At a corner piled with trash cans, he instinctively slowed, his gaze habitually sweeping over the few green metal boxes.

Then, his gaze halted.

A familiar gray‑haired figure stood with its back to him, slightly bent, intently looking at something held in its hand…

It seemed to be some kind of detection device.

The gray hair appeared hazy under the dim streetlamp.

That figure, that posture…

Yan Feng Qili's hollow eyes widened slightly for a moment, a strange feeling akin to "meeting an old friend in a foreign land" flashing through his mind.

He barely thought before the tablet's voice, carrying a rare tremor, softly sounded:

"... Teacher?"

The gray‑haired figure ahead seemed to hear the low call, paused, then slowly turned around.

Golden eyes, a calm gaze lacking any highlight, belonged to A Xing.

Perspective shift.

San Yue Qi knelt on one knee on the cold ground, her pink hair moving without wind, the tips seeming to crystallize into fine ice shards.

The Ice Bow in her hand had been drawn to a full moon, the string emitting a faint yet clear hum as it bore an overwhelming amount of Magic.

On the bow, intricate beautiful frost patterns lit up in layers, radiating a sharp icy‑blue glow that even froze the air within several meters into fine frost, coating the ground with a thin sheet of ice.

She kept her eyes tightly shut, breathing long and steady, all stray thoughts and fear expelled.

Her mind, for the first time, was profoundly tranquil.

At this moment, her world contained only the bow in her hand, the arrow on the string, and that golden figure marked as the target.

(This arrow……)

(It was to stop fleeing!)

(It was to protect my sister and everyone!)

(The power of the Stellar Void Train……the Exploration companions……please lend me your power!)

Beside her, Chang Ye Yue held up the Black Umbrella, her crimson eyes tightly shut, fine beads of sweat seeping from her forehead.

Maintaining the Illusion Realm to block that internal world-shattering energy remnant placed a huge strain on her.

She could feel the curtain of the Illusion Realm violently trembling at the center point where the gold and purple collided, emitting a faint cracking sound as if it could not bear the weight.

"It's almost time……Xiaosanyue……"

She whispered to herself, her voice tinged with an imperceptible tension: "Illusion Realm……it won't hold much longer……"