Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Chapter 151: Chapter 150: Chaos (End)_1

So that’s how it is!

Fu Qian understood why the Witch had reacted that way upon seeing the Pustule Stone.

She had long known the fate of this world and had no desire to intervene.

“Speaking of which, why are you here? And imprisoned in the deepest part of the jail?”

Fu Qian recalled a question he had had before.

“Where else would I go?”

The Witch sighed silently.

“When I was born, the world was already a chaotic wasteland—thoroughly uninteresting.”

“I wandered for many years and eventually found a trace of my mother’s scent here, as well as a group of survivors.”

“They were weak, but at least they could communicate.” n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Of course, they were somewhat fearful of me.”

“So, did you meet the creator of this painting?”

“No.”

The Witch shook her head.

“Although some powerful people existed here back then, none possessed such ability.”

“After some interaction, I realized they did not welcome me, so I pretended to be captured and let them seal me below.”

“Although this world is narrow and run-down, it is somewhat more interesting than the outside, so I stayed here, all the way until now.”

“No wonder, there are definitely a few legends about you here, and they’re not exactly friendly.”

Fu Qian sighed, turning his gaze back to the painting.

“You just mentioned redoing a painting—is it really that simple to paint?”

“It’s not difficult to begin with; the key lies in the paint.”

“Paint—surely you’re not suggesting using your own blood?”

Fu Qian looked at the Witch somewhat surprised.

“As a power of the same origin, there is no essential difference.”

The Witch picked up the nearby palette and sniffed it carefully.

“However, it can only be used on this canvas, which is why it was said the old world would be destroyed.”

“Are you ready? You will be both the creator and the destroyer.”

“Why do you want me to paint it?”

“Otherwise? You think I have any interest in painting with my own blood?”

The Witch looked at Fu Qian with a puzzled expression.

I’m not particularly interested either, but I have plenty of motivation.

Fu Qian thought to himself.

After all, his task is to eradicate all the Pus of Man.

If what she said about destroying the world was true, it would be akin to indirectly accomplishing his mission.

Fu Qian considered this and reached out for the paintbrush beside him.

“Let’s get this out of the way—I’m not particularly skilled in art.”

“It doesn’t matter; feel free to try. I will give you some basic material to start with.”

The Witch waved her hand, and the next moment, the paint palette contained a bead of a crystal-clear liquid shimmering with countless dim ripples of light.

“Can I mix other things in it?”

“You can mix in anything; you are now the creator.”

The Witch revealed a playful smile, seemingly very interested to see Fu Qian’s reaction.

Anything…

Fu Qian pondered for a while then tossed the brush away, stretching out his right hand.

Pus of Man in his palm wound had swollen much more than before and was continuously surging.

Under the Witch’s astonished gaze, Fu Qian pressed his right hand directly onto her blood.

With a silent lament, the originally crystal-clear blood began to grow turbid bit by bit.

After a long while, Fu Qian lifted his hand, looking at the black liquid stained on it, and then pressed it directly onto the canvas.

In the sky of the World Within the Painting, a palm-shaped dark radiance instantly appeared, turning the seven lights into eight.

“You…”

The Witch’s playful expression vanished, and she turned to look at the window.

A broad palm-shaped radiance slowly emerged, occupying a large portion of the night sky.

The radiance was dark red all over, with only a sliver of light seeping from the edges.

It was hard to imagine what the reaction of those residents would be upon seeing this scene.

“Why do this?”

The Witch looked at Fu Qian’s hand.

“The world is ending anyway, might as well give it a try—it’s free.”

“I was just thinking, since the Seven Lights are a conduit integrated into the essence of the world, is it possible to make corruption a part of that essence too?”

Fu Qian looked at her.

“Based on your description, I can understand how you feel about this world.

Everything has its birth and demise, and I also think there’s no need to intervene forcibly, so I’ve decided not to redraw this world.

If corruption could become part of the essence of the world instead of being rejected as an anomaly, I think the world would, at least, not be in such chaos during its decay.”

“Look, it’s reacting already.”

Fu Qian let the Witch see the palm of his hand.

The black fluid had gradually calmed down, no longer giving off the sensation of a living thing.

It began to slowly dissolve, turning into a faint shadowy aura and finally blending completely into his body.

In just an instant, Fu Qian felt the ravages of time wash over him, his body aged rapidly by a few degrees.

Fu Qian shook his arm.

“Actually, it feels pretty good; it seems like the negative effects of the Awakening have also disappeared.”

“The inherent toll of each Sequence might have been the result of being overly synched with the world, right? A side effect of the desperate attempt to maintain Eternity?”

“That’s an interesting thought, to treat decay as part of the world.”

The Witch didn’t rush to answer his question.

“Imagination really is important.”

“This way, the Pus of Man is neutralized, and the increase in the Discoloration Curse it causes will return to normal, and there may even be a new path to Awakening.”

“The only price is that Awakeners will become like ordinary people, unable to escape aging, but I think that’s more reasonable.”

“Those people just need to avoid the blizzard after this.”

“Only, the change from Seven to Eight Lights might shock our beliefs a bit.”

Fu Qian’s actions had clearly piqued the Witch’s interest.

“I’ve got it!”

The Witch suddenly pointed around her.

“I could establish a new Sect here, representing the faith of the Eighth Light.”

“What should it be called… I have to say, what you painted isn’t very pretty, Blood Fingers, Dark Moon?”

“Dark Moon sounds a bit better.”

Fu Qian commented earnestly from the side.

“I think so too, so from now on, this will be the Church of the Dark Moon, and I will be the first Pontiff. Are you interested in becoming something like a Temple Knight?”

“A Knight of the Dark Moon? That does sound rather nice.”

[Current mission completed, Containment of 1-019 successful]

At that moment, a familiar voice echoed in his ears, announcing the success of Fu Qian’s endeavour.

In a short time, all of the Pus of Man had been transformed.

Efficient and effortless!

Fu Qian was very satisfied with this batch processing operation.

“Are you leaving?”

Seemingly sensing something, the Witch looked up at Fu Qian.

“Why do you say that?”

This time, it was Fu Qian who was surprised.

“Intuition. You seem to have many secrets.”

“Indeed, with matters here concluded, I, Fu Qian, shall wander the four seas. This is farewell.”

“Well then, okay.”

The Witch gave a faint smile, jumped down from the high stool with elegance, and curtsied gracefully.

“Goodbye, mysterious connoisseur of aesthetics.”

“Goodbye, unnamed cosmic beauty.”

After the greeting, the scene before him shifted.

The next moment, the Witch, her easel, everything vanished, and Fu Qian found himself back in the warehouse.