Chapter 695: The Golden Corpse

Looking at the golden mask in his hand, its eye sockets and face painted with white and black pigments, Lu Miang decisively put it on his face.

A cold sensation swiftly seeped into his skin, the weight of the gold unnervingly real.

Lu Miang's mind swam for a moment; through the mask, he gazed at the entrance of the black tomb, at the far end of the dying river, now mostly vanished.

This time, he finally saw a faint, blurred figure.

The figure wore a strange, rust-covered iron crown and a long, pitch-black robe adorned with bizarre patterns; its skin resembled white jade, its eyes deep black as if holding the entire night, and its chin and jaw bore drifting strands of pale beard.

At that moment, the old man sat cross-legged, hands tucked into his sleeves, leaning against the open doorway of the tomb chamber, expression cold and indifferent, like a statue.

As Lu Miang looked at him, the old man looked back; his dark eyes seemed to reflect Lu Miang, yet also swarmed with countless overlapping illusions.

Splash!

Behind the old man, a more ethereal, nearly lightless ripple stirred in the air, and a towering figure clad in bloodstained armor roared loudly, striving to draw near.

This instantly burned Lu Miang's right palm.

At that moment, the old man with the rusted iron crown and strange robe drew his hands out of his sleeves.

Those hands were pale and dull, yet retained the texture of jade; their backs split open in countless fissures, each gash sprouting white feathers caked in pale yellow grease or oozing rotting, yellow pus.

Seeing this, Lu Miang's thoughts vanished; he felt as if he were plummeting endlessly into a cold, bottomless darkness.

A familiar burning sensation appeared in his left chest—this, alongside the searing, frenzied, violent heat in his right palm, awakened his consciousness, giving him a foothold in the darkness, a rope to grasp.

With this, Lu Miang regained his capacity to think: he saw the deep black eyes, holding the entire night, now thick with nearly black veins, stained with a madness that buried and ended all things.

Those eyes closed; the ethereal ripples and the towering figure behind him vanished.

Lu Miang's vision expanded outward; his perception of the external world fully returned.

He immediately felt intense pain.

Lu Miang sharply lowered his head, staring at his right hand: from wrist to back of hand, grotesque lumps swelled, on the verge of bursting; the hairs upon them had thickened and turned whiter.

He turned his palm upward and saw the mark left by the lingering aura of the "Blood Emperor" Arista Tudo fully revealed—bright red, dripping.

Around these marks were rotting flesh, oozing pus, and pale skin.

Lu Miang immediately frowned.

Under the full activation of the "Blood Emperor's" lingering aura, none of those around him—Amandina, Lu Jianuo, others—showed signs of panic or fear, and he himself sensed no extreme madness or violent intent!

"This…"

"The figure clad in bloodstained armor just now… must have been the 'Blood Emperor' Arista Tudo…"

"The atmosphere here is also similar to the 'Well of the Samaritan Woman'… Is the figure sitting by the tomb entrance the 'Spirit of the Mingdaoren ' mentioned by 'Armor Shade'?"

"Why are he and the 'Blood Emperor' here again? Shouldn't they be at the source of the 'Well of the Samaritan Woman'? Are they connected?"

"Did the Spirit of the Mingdaoren just now notice the lingering aura of the 'Blood Emperor' on me and seal it off, so even if I fully activated it, I couldn't manifest the mad aura of the 'Red Priest'?"

"Hmm, perhaps because of the seal left by the 'Fool' or because I'm wearing the golden mask of 'Siso'—the Spirit of the Mingdaoren didn't directly cause my ascension or force me into Shikong …"

Lu Miang quickly grasped the general outline of his situation, and at that moment, as the ascended demon entered the black tomb, conditions inside shifted again.

The tomb chamber, once utterly silent and still, now emitted rustling sounds, the clinking of metal against stone.

The next instant, a golden, radiant figure appeared beside the Spirit of the Mingdaoren, at the tomb's entrance.

The figure was entirely covered in gold, limbs elongated, face masked with a golden mask bearing white and black pigments.

Identical to the one on Lu Miang's face, identical to the one on the pale goat's head!

The golden-masked figure stood rigid and stiff, as if its limbs had not yet awakened, rising from a supine corpse posture solely through the power of its waist.

It kept its eyes shut, turning its head toward the nearest pale goat.

The pale goat's aura instantly became ordinary, no longer able to walk upon the dead river; it rapidly rotted and sank, vanishing soon after.

The golden-masked figure turned its head toward the tattered, sinister doll.

The sinister vines on the doll's gothic dress suddenly came alive, coiling around it in endless loops, preventing it from falling, rendering it motionless.

The corpse's head inside the tomb chamber then turned slowly toward the man with green eyes.

The man with green eyes, who had been staring at the ugly puppet, abruptly froze—his body burst into a bloody little pig.

The ugly puppet fell beside the pig, utterly still, as if transformed into the most common, ordinary kind.

Ludwig, sprinting nearby, suddenly brightened his gaze.

He leapt up like a giant frog, lunging at the bloody pig, grabbing its head, and biting down.

Amandina shut her eyes in horror.

Louis Béri's godson was such a monster?

Loud pig squeals erupted; the golden-masked corpse, eyes still shut, turned its neck toward Ivelista Aeges.

Lu Miang's temple twitched violently; he wanted to shatter the sudden oppressive confinement and "teleport" to rescue Ivelista, yet hesitated.

He had strictly obeyed his own rule: never approach the black tomb, at most glance once or twice; now he didn't wish to break this "rule," for violating it meant extremely high risk.

But Ivelista was from the "Fool" Church.

Lu Miang had just made his decision when the golden-bodied corpse turned its head again—and Ivelista showed no change, still in a weakened, gravely wounded state.

What was going on? Why did this cold corpse spare Ivelista? The Spirit of the Mingdaoren had looked at Ivelista earlier too, yet done nothing… Lu Miang puzzled, then the corpse's golden mask turned toward Lei Yasa.

After the pale goat vanished, Lei Yasa had summoned a wraith to envelop himself, flickering to the edge of the tomb zone, about to flee into the woods—but before he could act further, his body froze.

Boom, boom, boom—large, wet, fleshy tumors burst from Lei Yasa's face, neck, and hands, oozing disgusting slime.

The deputy captain of the Pailos Port Patrol collapsed, rapidly disintegrating into countless bloody tumors that squirmed within the gaps of his thin suit.

The wraith Lei Yasa had summoned became a thin sheet of human skin, fluttering gently to the ground.

Lu Miang's scalp prickled; he finally broke free from the confinement brought on by the corpse's rising, and shouted to Lu Jianuo, Amandina, and others:

"Grab me!"

He would "teleport" back to Tizamo Town!

At that moment, the corpse's golden-masked face turned toward him.

Lu Miang's body chilled; he forgot about Jiamu and the others, and immediately prepared to activate the black mark on his right shoulder.

Suddenly, he saw the cold corpse's face—the eyes beneath the golden mask, surrounded by white and black pigments, opened.

They were icy blue eyes.

Icy blue eyes? Lu Miang froze, feeling a strange familiarity.

This was…

This was Naporedisli's eyes!

Damn it, how could Naporedisli be here? How could he be the cold corpse inside the black tomb?

By what right could He bestow the transcendental power of the "Prisoner" Path?

Fake? Not Naporedisli—just eyes that looked similar…

As Lu Miang's thoughts raced, he saw the icy blue eyes reveal a faint smile—playful, enlightened, certain.

This was utterly unlike the pain-filled expressions in those icy blue eyes on Hanter Island.

Suddenly, a half-withered, violently pulsing dark red heart flew from the golden corpse's hand, soaring beyond the completely dissolved dead river.

A short figure leapt like a frog, snatching the heart—it was Ludwig, his mouth dripping blood.

The golden corpse's icy blue eyes held a touch more ease in their smile.

It nodded toward Lu Miang, deliberately falling backward, returning to its original position, showing no desire to escape the black tomb.

Splash—the ethereal water sound rose as the open tomb door slowly closed.

The figure seated beside the door, suspected to be the Spirit of the Mingdaoren, vanished.

This… Naporedisli's corpse seemed unwilling to leave the tomb… How had He originally gotten inside? Did He lie down by Himself? Lu Miang couldn't fathom the reason, only turned to Ludwig and saw the boy bringing the half-withered dark red heart to his mouth.

Lu Miang wanted to stop him, but lacked the power; and the surrounding corpses seemed to care nothing more than the half-withered heart.

Clang!

The tomb door slammed shut; the entire area trembled violently.

Lu Miang and the others saw more dream fragments, everything around them blurring.

After a brief daze, Lu Miang found himself lying in the middle of a street with no lights, the red moon high above, casting its glow.

This was inside Tizamo Town.

(End of Chapter)