fantasy novels Chapter 270 Fighting Poison with Poison
Chapter 270 Fighting Poison with Poison
Chapter 270 Fighting Poison with Poison
The next morning, using the ingredients O'Haytz had given her, Cyril made a silvery liquid that constantly produced fine bubbles, resembling a viscous sparkling water.
He then flicked a gold coin from his hand and performed a simple divination.
The reverse side facing up indicates negation!
"It was indeed a failed potion, but at least the double amount of auxiliary materials weren't wasted."
He muttered something under his breath and poured the failed potion in his hand onto a newly painted scroll on the table.
The front of the scroll is an irregular black ball of thread with eyes growing between the gaps. Behind the ball of thread, white wings, also covered with eyes, extend outwards, asymmetrical and discordant.
This is something he drew after making some artistic modifications to the incomplete mythical creature form of the "Secret Seeker".
"I was writing based on my spiritual intuition, so why is the final product so abstract?"
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...It must be that the underlying aesthetic of this world is chaotic and abstract.
As he muttered to himself, the liquid, which resembled viscous sparkling water, was greedily absorbed by the portrait on the paper.
Then, the eyelash-less eyes that grew out of the gaps in the black thread began to blink, looking at him with longing and reverence, while the wings on their backs fluttered back and forth.
It came back to life!
After a moment of staring at each other, Sirion suddenly spoke:
"Can't you speak?"
In the painting, the black thread ball covered with eyes wriggled, drawing all the eyes to look at him and conveying its emotions.
Agree, happy, yet disappointed...
The next second, Cyril saw an abstract figure holding its head appear in the corner of the painting.
He paused for a moment, then saw the abstract figure holding its head turn its head in the painting, bowing to him with an awkward yet polite smile:
"Good morning, my great, kind, and revered master."
"Let me check on this new colleague and teach it some important points and basic manners so it can better serve you."
66"
Cyril nodded silently, then walked to the desk on the other side of the room.
While he was concocting the potion, Bernadette's swift messenger had already come by and left him a folded letter.
He unfolded the letter in front of him, quickly glanced through it, and then his eyes suddenly saw a phantom book slowly turning its pages.
"I came, I saw, I recorded."
Brilliant starlight appeared out of thin air, quickly intertwining and outlining a phantom double door covered with mysterious patterns.
After he left, Steve, who was visiting the painting, instantly dropped his friendly expression and stared at the black ball of thread covered with eyes with a serious and arrogant look.
"My name is Steve, and I am the first servant to follow and serve the Lord."
"Since the great master created you, you shall follow me from now on and serve my master faithfully."
"As long as we continue to follow our master, we can also become the Holy Spirit in his kingdom after he returns to God."
Backlund, a forest isolated from reality, woven from countless green vines.
Countless tiny starlight suddenly flew out of the void, rapidly intertwining in mid-air to outline a dazzling, illusory gate.
As he stepped out of the "Traveler's Door," pages of Russell's diary, seemingly brought to life and dancing in the air, appeared before him.
Bernadette's voice drifted softly from the side:
"This is the content you owe from this period of time, which needs to be translated and taught."
"I know."
Cyril nodded slightly and casually picked up the closest copy of Russell's diary:
On December 16th, I reconnected with that poor fellow who was trapped deep in the storm and lost in the darkness.
He called himself "Mr. Door" and tried to teach me a complicated and difficult ritual to help him return to the real world, promising to grant me three requests.
After completing the translation of the diary and teaching some Chinese characters, and recording the mysterious reappearance of "The Ugly Duckling" with Bernadette, Cyril teleported back to Bayam.
After closing the doors and windows and setting up a spiritual wall, he took out the harmonica used to summon messengers, infused it with spirituality, and played it forcefully.
An invisible ripple spread out, and a few seconds later, Erdfana, whose robes and hair were all gray and white, whose eyes were pale gold and whose appearance was withered, appeared before him.
He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he felt that Erdfana looked older than the last time they met, but also more energetic.
"you."
Cyril opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Erdfana calmly interrupted him:
The pollution from the "City of Calamity" diluted some of the pollution from the "Chaotic Sea" within me, improving my mental state considerably, but simultaneously worsening my physical condition.
"This isn't a major problem. As long as the pollution of the Chaos Sea isn't completely neutralized, I won't be in any danger to my life."
The "Chaotic Sea" is located on the ground, and it is easy to come into contact with its polluted components.
...it's very easy to die suddenly.
He mentally scoffed, then hesitantly asked:
"How would you feel if there were another layer of pollution?"
Erdfana calmly replied, "It could be better, or it could be worse."
"It seems you're now able to pay for the previous deliveries and assistance?"
Cyril nodded, while adding a word of caution:
"This may not achieve the results you want, and I can't control the pollution either."
Erdfana ignored his warning: "It's not a big problem. If things don't go as planned, I'll approach the Chaos Ocean at the Earth's core before the pollution within me gets out of control," and create a new balance.
"Now we are in the Fifth Age, and the will of that God is much weaker. Therefore, my tolerance limit for the pollution of the 'Chaos Sea' has also increased accordingly."
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Cyril paused for a moment... He had a feeling that Erdfana's attitude towards pollution was completely different from that of the other angels.
Is this due to his own personality, or the subtle influence of the "Chaotic Sea" on him?
Gathering his scattered thoughts, he looked at Erdfana and said seriously:
"Is it possible to create a space where I won't be disturbed?"
"It's very simple." Erdfana smiled and nodded, at the same time his pale gold eyes turned into vertical pupils, as if they contained a deep and dark sea.
After a moment, he calmly said, "That's enough."
Cyril nodded, and a phantom, slowly turning book appeared in his eyes.
"I came, I saw, I recorded."
As the incantation appeared, he leaned forward slightly, clasped his hands on his shoulders, and pure white, ethereal feathers emerged from his back, coalescing into a pair of broad, pure white, and seemingly illusory wings.
Beneath the wings, his body transformed into a mixture of dazzling starlight and countless transparent, wing-like membranes, like those of a dragonfly's wings.
Erdfana stood still, calmly watching the scene unfold, his pale golden vertical pupils reflecting a constantly changing, brilliant and profound starry sky.
Gradually, His body began to swell and deform, and fine gray-white dragon scales grew on His body. A pair of gray-white membrane-covered wings extended from His back.
In a second or two, a grayish-white dragon with a lizard-like face that looked obviously old appeared in Erdfana's original spot.
From the gaps in the gray-white scales on his body, a dark, shadowy liquid continuously seeped out.
These black liquids seemed to be alive and conscious, spreading continuously across the dragon's body, as if trying to cover every corner of it and completely assimilate it.
Just as the pitch-black liquid seeping from between the scales was about to completely cover it, the strange symbols engraved on the dragon's gray-white scales shimmered with colorful starlight, making it impossible for the pitch-black liquid to get any closer.
Meanwhile, under the distortion of the colorful starlight, one after another, the complex and three-dimensional mysterious symbols underwent changes to varying degrees, as if they were about to intertwine into a magnificent, complex, and mysterious scroll.
The mysterious symbols shimmering with colorful starlight on the dragon's scales and the pitch-black liquid constantly seeping from the gaps resemble two colliding air currents.
One force was strong but lacked staying power, while the other was relatively weak but persistent, ultimately creating a strange dynamic tug-of-war.
Five or six seconds later, the large wings formed from pure white, illusory feathers disappeared, and Cyril's figure returned to normal.
The dragon, its body a tapestry of black and starlight, as if adorned with a dynamic wallpaper, also retracted its form, transforming from the withered old man into a different shape.
Xi Ruien frowned as he looked at the other person. This time, he didn't need intuition; he could tell with his naked eye that the other person had aged a bit more, as if he would be blown away into dust by the wind at any moment.
He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Are you... alright?"
Erdfana, who looked so old that he seemed ready to turn to dust at any moment, nodded slightly to him:
"I feel great, I haven't felt this relaxed in a long time."
"They don't care about my appearance or body, that's not important. The audience's popularity comes from the spirit."
As he spoke, he reached out and wiped his face, and the aged look that seemed as if he would be blown away into dust by the wind in the next second instantly disappeared.
Cyril's brow twitched as he watched; it seemed like he had the ability to paint on his face and disguise himself.
...Although the way it's presented is a little different, my feeling is correct.
As if hearing the doubt in his heart, Erdfana chuckled softly:
"Contamination is also a form of power. At the level of angels, both pollution and curses are powers that can be utilized, although such power is relatively dangerous."
Cyril nodded slightly, then skipped over the topic and said:
"I hope to be able to record the abilities of 'psychological suggestion' and 'battle hypnosis' a few times, anything below demigod level will do."
"Add a demigod-level 'Intelligence Deprivation' or 'Spirit Breath'."
"No problem," Erdfana nodded readily.
The relief from the pollution of the "Chaotic Sea" on his body put him in a good mood. Although it was just using another kind of pollution to fight poison with poison, it at least made him feel a rare sense of ease, without having to constantly fight against the whispers in his mind and heart.
In the evening, Cyril, now posing as Randolph Carter, returned to the Scented Leaf Bar.
"A glass of Southwell beer."
"6 pence."
After paying and receiving his drink from the bartender, Cyril took a sip, then casually leaned against the bar and started chatting with the bartender in front of him:
"Hey buddy, any interesting news lately?"
After a moment's thought, the bartender, with a mysterious air, whispered to him:
"It is said that Vice Admiral Iceberg's fleet discovered a treasure key left behind by giants from ancient times somewhere in the Sunia Sea."
"For this reason, the Blood Admiral's Flesh Tree relentlessly pursued the Ice Admiral's Golden Dream, attempting to seize the key that could unlock the treasure."
"The Ice Admiral who likes to lecture his crew..." Cyril raised an eyebrow.
If I were to encounter the "Golden Dream," I would definitely go to Remburg and buy a workbook published by the Church of Knowledge for everyone on board.
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