Chapter 2859: Night Demon

Not bad. Ordered fresh and killed on the spot.

Without hesitation, Patches withdrew his hand, a lump of something already resting in his palm.

It was a slippery, dark blue, constantly twisting and writhing.

The tentacle was so thin it looked like a living thread.

Watching this immediately jogged Fu Qian's memory, bringing to mind his eventful days competing for the King of the White Tower.

It looked remarkably similar to the mass Old Man Lu had shown him.

It proved the old man really did have a good eye—this thing was quite extraordinary.

By comparison, of course, Excellency Patches was even more extraordinary.

No matter what it was, as long as he had a use for it, he could make it appear at the first summons.

He didn't worry about the consequences, nor did he ever settle for a shoddy substitute.

Take the lump in his hand, for example. It was precisely the part Fu Qian had pointed out.

As a result, the beast head Old Man Lu had grafted onto himself was now truly disconnected. It roamed about on instinct, brimming with vivid lifeforce.

And as the saying goes, the freshest ingredients required no cooking—

"Thanks for the trouble."

Offering his thanks, Fu Qian casually took the object, letting it slither across Annalise's Lies.

Unfortunately, neither the living thread nor the glove reacted in any way.

It was as if its appearance in the Archipelago was merely a coincidence, completely unrelated to the Progenitor of the Blood Clan.

Since that was the case, Fu Qian toyed with it for a moment before casually tossing it to his other hand.

Two rows of sharp fangs had already sprouted from the center of his left palm, swallowing it in a single bite.

With the key elements essentially sorted out, the situation was perfect for using Insight.

And this entity, which clearly possessed a formidable pedigree, was undoubtedly the prime target.

If it triggered a situation similar to the Eye of the Punished Consort, the resulting information would undoubtedly be massive.

Besides, ever since Etched Intellect vanished last time, one of his Insight slots had remained empty.

[Night Demon]

[Cursed by the Dream-Chasing Corrupted Blood. You have permanently become a hunter of yearnings.

Once a connection is established with a dream, automatically enter Polluter form to rapidly corrupt and claim it as your own.

Any dream directed at you will automatically call out and establish a connection.

The original owner of the dream will be unable to recognize you as the target of their yearnings.

If one cannot shake off the folly of chasing past figures in dreams, they will only render themselves utterly unrecognizable in the night.]

It actually worked?

Ordered, butchered, and eaten right on the spot. That thread hadn't even lasted five seconds.

Faced with Fu Qian's startling actions, Patches actually looked quite gratified.

For one, he had seen it all; raw sashimi without even a dip of wasabi was nothing to him.

For another, as a support, there was nothing he loved seeing more than a main carry with decisive execution.

Acting without a second thought, Professor Fu truly appeared entirely focused on tackling the objective.

And under his expectant gaze, Fu Qian noted that a single bite really had filled his empty Insight slot.

It was even a passive skill.

It was just the effect itself—it was hard to say whether it was positive or negative.

The name Night Demon certainly sounded badass, but the description opened right up with "cursed" and "Polluter."

Looking closely at the details, it was almost entirely focused on dreams, and it came with a host of effects.

First of all, if he understood correctly, did this mean he would rapidly seize ownership of any dream he was in?

At first glance, it didn't sound too outrageous. After all, he had pulled similar Evil God-esque stunts before.

But combined with the second clause, it was a bit alarming: any dream directed at him would automatically establish a connection?

It immediately brought to mind the Nightmare Corridor, where Wen Li, Taylor, and Lotte had basically put him on speed dial.

Judging by this, he wouldn't even have the option to refuse?

As long as he appeared in someone's dream, he would be dragged in to play a background character, only to rapidly upgrade to the protagonist?

On top of that, there was a bizarre caveat: the caller wouldn't be able to recognize him?

The concept was easy enough to grasp—it felt like applying a cognitive barrier.

The question was, why was there such a malicious cognitive barrier? To emphasize the dramatic irony of life?

And that final, cryptic sentence carried a faint sense of lamenting the human condition.

It made him genuinely curious about who this Dream-Chasing Corrupted Blood had originally belonged to.

Moreover, had this thing always been like this, or had it devolved into this squishy, mollusk-like form because of the corruption?

And what had corrupted it in the first place? Dreams, or figures from the past?

"How was the texture?"

Excellency Patches was quite considerate, giving him time to savor the taste before finally asking.

"A bit stale, I think."

Fu Qian shook his head and answered honestly as he scanned their surroundings.

"What's going on?"

The most noticeable thing was the miserable shriek of the freshly butchered victim.

It came from inside the egg—a heart-rending, muffled roar that practically radiated the victim's shattered worldview.

Though the one screaming wasn't even the direct victim, Old Man Lu, but rather his teammate, Kikuchi.

That alone proved how inextricably linked they had become.

"Shut up! And don't open your eyes! Are you trying to get yourself killed faster?"

Old Man Lu, on the other hand, was much calmer, warning him not to act rashly.

"That guy might not know our exact location. He might just be trying to strike the grass to startle the snake."

This was exactly why he was the one taking charge when the Master wasn't around.

His gaze falling on the two arguing figures, Fu Qian sighed inwardly.

In all fairness, this reaction was pretty good.

He had just warned that they might be walking into a trap, only for an accident to strike his own body a second later. Experiencing that kind of reality-warping power—words carrying absolute law—firsthand was more than enough to trigger a panic response.

But the old man used reverse thinking, managing to find a sliver of hope in the situation. If they were truly caught in the worst-case scenario they had anticipated, yet the attack had only inflicted moderate damage, the implications were worth pondering.

The art of deception dictated that once you showed your hand, you went for a guaranteed kill.

An attack like this seemed terrifying, but in terms of resource utilization, it was far too wasteful.

Even if the attacker was confident in their strength, weren't they worried their prey might fight to the bitter end and ruin the prize?

So, wasn't there a slight possibility that the enemy's control wasn't absolute?

They could establish a connection, but they couldn't pinpoint the exact location.

Which was why they needed to use an attack like this to force the two of them to expose themselves?

In that case, doing nothing was better than making a move. No matter how agonizing every passing second might be, they were better off quietly observing changes.

In short, Old Man Lu successfully stabilized the situation, evolving their strategy from covering one's ears to steal a bell to playing ostrich and burying their heads in the sand.

Of course, he was quite lucky that Fu Qian genuinely had no intention of striking the grass to startle the snake just yet.

"It's certainly hard to get it fresh... Was one enough?"

Responding to Fu Qian's critique, Patches acknowledged the ingredient's flaw while also expressing concern that he hadn't had his fill.

"Oh?" But before he could get an answer, his gaze locked onto Fu Qian's right hand.

The pitch-black long glove was actually beginning to stain with blood, as if it was concealing a horrific wound beneath the fabric.

But it was far too perfect to be a normal bleed. The blood uniformly coated the entire glove, missing not a single inch, yet there wasn't a single drop of blood anywhere outside the glove itself.