Chapter 962: I May Not Understand Beast Tamers, But I Understand Xiao Qi

I may not understand beast tamers, but I understand Xiao Qi.

(First, brace your waist—super large cup!)

On the other side.

At the very moment the meteor struck, Du Qiyu controlled the few surviving beast tamers around him to charge back through the flames into this charred land, while his true body lay among the scorched corpses pretending to be dead, thereby maximizing the range of his beasts’ movement.

Hiding one’s true form is an art, especially when one’s temper is hard to control.

Indeed, Sun Miao’s guesses about Xiao Qi were mostly correct—he does have emotional issues, so severe that he must split his own power and wisdom to suppress their backlash.

Of course, this problem didn’t exist from the start; it only emerged two months ago.

As for why it appeared...

Every time Du Qiyu recalled the incident, he felt he had been tricked.

He did fulfill his promise to increase my strength, but before that, he never knew such an increase would come at such a cost—his score dropped from 2600 to 2000 even though his power grew stronger.

Du Qiyu wasn’t lying—he did once reach 2600 points—but he was lying too, because that score existed only in the past.

So when he learned at the trial’s start that Xiao Shi had 2200 points, his emotions became hard to suppress.

How could he have a higher score than me now?

With this thought, his prejudice against Cheng Shi deepened, his hatred grew, and eventually, realizing this emotion was disrupting the trial’s rhythm, he desperately tamed trial lifeforms to reduce emotional backlash—but this caused his power to plummet rapidly, even to the point where he was despised by Lin Xi yet dared not retaliate.

He had long grown tired of all this, but had no solution; his temper grew harder to control, forcing him to keep taming others, shifting pain, and thus cultivating a twisted pleasure in dominating others.

Just now, another batch of Du Qiyu’s beasts died under the fire rain, and his scattered emotions converged again, making him even more irritable, causing a subtle error in his decision when rushing back to the charred land.

Based on his observation of Xiao Shi’s expression during the recent ambush, the item Xiao Shi dropped must be important, so he deduced the opponent would return immediately to retrieve it.

And when he spotted the opponent, the position was far from Kainlaor, meaning Xiao Shi and that horse-faced sage likely hadn’t noticed Jing Gong’s presence.

So Du Qiyu instantly made a decision: he would go first to retrieve Xiao Shi’s dropped item.

This decision had no logic—it was purely emotion-driven—but the problem was Du Qiyu couldn’t overcome his emotions; he had become a slave to them, and his childhood obsessions, amplified by this emotional surge, turned into the resentment: “I don’t have to be good, but Xiao Shi must be worse than me.”

Under these circumstances, Du Qiyu and Cheng Shi “passed each other by”—one picked up the container, the other grabbed the bow, now reduced to charred ash.

“......”

Looking at the ash beneath his feet, shaped only like a bow, Cheng Shi clicked his tongue.

It’s fake after all—had no resistance to the meteor fire rain. But then, how do I trick the other guy now?

Cheng Shi’s eyes rolled, and he asked behind him: “Vice Chairman Sun, do you have any expertise in forging weapons?”

“......Cheng Shi, I am a believer of [Foolishness], not some mad creator obsessed with [Truth].”

“Oh, so even believers of [Foolishness] don’t know everything?”

“......” Sun Miao felt trapped—this feeling annoyed him, but to protect [Foolishness]’s reputation, he had to prove himself: “Drop your provocation—it won’t work on me. Just tell me what you plan.”

That’s not useless?

Cheng Shi laughed heartily: “Simple. When Xiao Qi arrives, just let him catch a glimpse of a red-glowing bow body—it doesn’t matter if it can shoot arrows.”

Sun Miao gave up. He no longer tried to decipher Cheng Shi’s plan—he only wanted to lure the beast tamer over, eliminate him, vent his anger, then leave the trial and record everything he’d witnessed in the Historians’ archives to complete his task.

“Are you sure your plan will work?”

“I may not understand beast tamers, but I understand Xiao Qi—he will come.”

But this time they misjudged: the moment Du Qiyu seized the [Defilement] container, the beast tamer, overwhelmed by emotional turbulence, immediately drove his beasts into a frenzied sprint and vanished with his true body from the battlefield.

Think about it—what would a master with only emotional side effects think upon acquiring an item that absorbs his own emotions and desires?

So this was His guidance all along?

So this was His true promise?

What promise could be more satisfying than snatching an item that enhances oneself from Xiao Shi’s hands?

Though Du Qiyu had no idea what a container was, when he realized its function, his first reaction was to verify whether this was truly a divine blessing.

As for Jing Gong... it didn’t matter anymore.

He wanted Jing Gong only for its ability to nourish the soul with enemies’ fear, hoping to offset some emotional backlash—but now that he had this, who needed a broken bow?

So Du Qiyu withdrew decisively. Under the container’s influence, he felt he’d made the right choice—he needed a quiet place to study this unnamed artifact, free of distractions; once he confirmed it could solve his core problem, then...

Heh, once I regain my full power—or even surpass it—will you fear me, Xiao Shi?

Whether he’d fear it or not was debatable, but he’d definitely feel awkward—the sage’s gaze toward him grew increasingly mocking, so Cheng Shi let out two forced laughs.

“Don’t rush—the one who’s coming will come...”

Meanwhile, deep in the void.

A moment earlier, when Cheng Shi realized the one who “killed” [Order] beside the Sea of Desire was a follower of [War], a pair of eyes, painted with stars and spirals, quietly opened in an endless black void.

The moment He appeared, He lavished praise upon the pair of eyes before Him—one blazing with flame, the other stained with blood:

“Should I praise silence as the best disguise, or lament how loyalty hides nothing but deceit?

[War], when did you start stealing my authority?”

[War] remained unmoved, glancing coldly at the starry eyes and rumbled: “You... why are you here?”

[Deception]... yes, He was [Deception]. [Deception] chuckled, confidently declaring:

“To seek justice for [Order]!”

“......”

[War] seemed to hear the funniest joke in the universe—but remember, He was patient, so He didn’t laugh. Instead, He shook His head and rumbled again: “Then you should seek [Covenant]... I have no justice here.”

“Oh? So you admit you split [Order]?”

“......” [War] closed His eyes slightly, as if losing steam. “I don’t recall... saying... such a thing.”

“You just said your domain has no justice—if there’s no justice, isn’t that plainly saying [Order] has fallen?”

“......”

Sometimes even gods want to call the police.

Too bad, the “police” among the gods had become the “bandit.”

[War] reopened His eyes, silently watching [Deception]—whose eyes still curled upward but now carried unmistakable gravity—and suddenly sighed with complex emotion:

“His splitting... has nothing to do with me.”

Those words instantly tightened the once-calm eyes—star points flashed wildly, spirals reversed, and the eyes blinked, summoning a chaotic yellow mist from the void.

A giant hand representing [Chaos] burst from the mist, flanking the eyes, trapping [War] in the center.

The reason [Deception]’s expression changed so drastically was because His authority told Him: [War] was lying!

[Order]’s splitting was clearly tied to Him!

[Deception]’s gaze turned grave, yet His tone remained playful:

“Fascinating. I’ve often wondered why [Order] always splits within the Sea of Desire, yet you—untouched by any influence...

Now I see, I underestimated you. A patient god, a non-combative, non-striving god.

But I’d like to ask: how did [Order] split?

And what did you gain from this division?”

[War] fell silent again, glancing back at [Chaos], thoughtful.

Seeing the other wouldn’t speak, [Deception] wasted no time and moved to attack—but the moment He and [Chaos] struck, the entire void froze without warning!

The Lord of [Void] had, for an instant, lost control of the void, his avatar trapped alongside him on his own ground.

But that was all—[War] made no further move, instantly releasing the two testers, then sighed again:

“Leave. I pose no threat to you. What I wait for... is not you.”

No sooner had He spoken than He departed before [Deception] or [Chaos] could react.

[Deception], for the first time losing control of the void, turned His eyes toward where [War] had vanished, gaze flickering, silent for a long while.

Only after [Chaos] also left and the void sank back into stillness did He suddenly let out a soft “Hee~,” bursting into mirth again.

“So patient. So formidable.

War, War—now you truly live up to your name.

But I’ve tested you—yes, stronger than anyone, even equivalent to two ancient bones.

But sadly, what you wait for isn’t your kind—it’s a ‘god.’”

As He spoke, a stream of seven-colored light threaded through the star points in His eyes, then vanished with them in an instant.