Chapter 964: Pa Duo Has a Problem

A Bo Ni Ya said, "In combat, she won't hold back; the Herrscher-formed her can hardly keep a complete self. You need to reach the still‑conscious part deep in her mind during battle; that's the only way to strip her from the Corrosion."

Heimu, upon hearing this, couldn't help but let out a light laugh.

"It's really like playing a game,"

"Collecting items, listening to key characters explain the setting, gathering everything to clear a final stage, and still having to wake the BOSS before reasoning with her—what a type of game."

A Bo Ni Ya gave no reply, but Heimu could feel a certain mirth coming from the other end of the consciousness link.

Heimu lifted her head and glanced at the endless maze corridor ahead.

Pale green lights lined the walls in two rows, stretching to the limit of sight before being swallowed by a bottomless darkness.

A muffled mechanical hum persisted from beneath the floor, like a massive apparatus turning slowly deep underground.

She didn't know how large Wei Er Wei had made this maze, but she was certain that the chibi demolitionist was hiding in some control room, twirling her little Top Hat while watching everyone else spin around the maze.

"So the most urgent thing now is to gather the others first,"

Heimu said, this time speaking to herself, without transmitting the words through the consciousness link.

A Bo Ni Ya heard and gave a gentle nod.

A silk tail slipped down from her shoulder and settled on Pa Duo's lower back.

Pa Duo's ears twitched as she strained to turn her head and see what the little nun on her back was nodding at, but the cat's short neck only revealed a vague side‑face outline.

"Black Curtain Lady."

Pa Duo's voice rose from below and to the right of Heimu, soft and brimming with uncontainable curiosity, "What did you and Sister A Bo Ni Ya just talk about? We can't help feeling you two were quiet the whole way, yet seemed to have discussed a lot."

Heimu lowered her head and glanced at the calico cat.

Pa Duo was looking up at her, her large eyes sparkling in the pale green light, her cat mouth slightly curled.

Her Tail's tip flicked behind her, sweeping across the edge of A Bo Ni Ya's hanging skirt.

Heimu turned her gaze back to A Bo Ni Ya.

The little nun also looked at her.

Ice‑blue eyes held a knowing gleam, the tiny curve at the corner of her mouth still present, like an unspoken tacit understanding.

"She didn't say anything," Heimu told Pa Duo.

The moment the words left her mouth, Heimu realized something.

She paused, then swiftly rephrased in her mind, adding, "I mean, we did actually talk about something."

A complex expression flickered across Pa Duo's cat face, as if someone were trying to solve an extremely difficult logic puzzle in five seconds.

She glanced at Heimu, then turned her head to look at A Bo Ni Ya on her back.

A Bo Ni Ya gave her a gentle smile, offering no explanation.

"I see."

Pa Duo finished, her Tail drooping slightly, eyes blinking twice, "Hehe."

She turned back, her four short legs marching forward, and added, "We'll just say it—your mouths didn't move at all, yet you managed to chat. It really was mouth‑less, impressive. I wish I could also talk to people with my mind someday."

Heimu withdrew her gaze, looking ahead, her fingertips gently stroking the petals of a Crystal Flower inside her cuff.

The consciousness thread linking her to A Bo Ni Ya still pulsed in her mind, and she whispered a sentence that only A Bo Ni Ya could hear.

"Pa Duo has a problem," Heimu said.

A Bo Ni Ya did not turn around, nor did she show any extra expression.

She sat quietly on the cat's back, and after a moment replied.

Her tone was as light as a breeze drifting from far away.

"Pa Duo has never had a problem; this Pa Duo is rather different."

Perspective shift.

Qingque opened her eyes.

At first her sight was just a vague dark‑red haze, indistinct, only feeling something beneath her supporting her—a rough, hard texture, uneven on the surface, like a massive piece of old bark.

She blinked.

The dark‑red ahead gradually spread, forming concrete shapes: interlaced branches, thick limbs, their surfaces covered with wrinkled dark‑red bark, the furrowed veins embedding something even darker, like dried blood or the residue of some sap that had solidified after seeping from the bark.

That color was everywhere.

These dark‑red trunks intertwined at bizarre angles—some crossing horizontally from above, others slanting upward from below—making the whole space resemble a shredded bird's nest, except the nest was so vast its boundaries were invisible.

Qingque moved a finger.

It could still move.

Her fingertip brushed the rough bark, and the sensation returned clear and real.

She slowly sat up, her ash‑gray long hair slipping down from her shoulders, and Qingque lowered her head to glance at where she was sitting.

It was an enormously thick trunk.

How thick? She estimated it would be as wide as several Tai Bu Si offices stitched together.

The trunk's surface was flat enough to serve as a makeshift platform, and cracks oozed dark‑red sap that was half‑dry, pulling out some sticky, thread‑like strands.

Beyond the trunk's edge, looking down, there was nothing to see.

Dark‑red mist churned below, like some creature slowly writhing.

Looking deeper, only an ever‑darker red remained, eventually sinking entirely into a bottomless blackness.

Qingque retracted her bewildered gaze.

She began to recall.

The recollection proceeded smoothly, because what had just happened required hardly any effort to bring to mind.

Her life had been exceedingly eventful lately, so bustling that her mind barely had time to rest.

From the Shen Ce Fu's forced kiss on Fu Xuan, to the dream where she tangled with Shuhuo, then waking to discover she had become a demonic Yin body, then the Jing Liu, that white‑haired former Sword Leader, the moment the Eye Mask was removed, the whole street turned into an ice vault.

What was that final move called again?

Qingque frowned and thought for a moment.

Illuminate the myriad rivers.

Yes, that's the name.

When Jing Liu uttered those four characters, his voice was already completely ruined, hoarse as if ice shards were being stirred in his throat.

Then the icy blue light surged out of the stone slab cracks, seeped through the wall fissures, rose up from beneath the whole street, and everything around began to freeze.

Her fish was long gone, and she didn't even have time to let out Bubbles; her entire being was engulfed by the all‑covering cold.

So it ended here.

Qingque sat on the tree trunk, her legs hanging over the edge, and swayed them.

A silver bell on her right ankle rang softly with her movement; a layer of frost still clung to its surface, looking a bit out of place in the dark‑red air.

She lowered her head to look at her hand: cold white skin, a bluish‑gray floral branch still protruding a short distance from her wrist, the half‑withered bud at its tip unchanged.

Qingque could now see her true form.

She glanced again at the asymmetrical garment she wore; the mist‑green cloak on her left shoulder still draped over her arm, and the dark embroidery on the cuff was made a bit blackish by the dark‑red light.

"I'm dead?" Qingque asked herself blankly.

The voice that came from her throat was a bit dry, as if a layer of ash were stuck in her throat.

She coughed once and repeated it.

"I'm dead."

This time her tone was much more certain, even carrying a hint of relief.