Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Fu Qian’s actions were undoubtedly filled with sorrow in the eyes of the many spectators.

Since the beginning, Old Master Knight, even though he hadn’t said a word or shed a single tear, everyone knew that this was an expression of overwhelming grief.

The death of an only son, his body never recovered, was something no one could easily accept.

After delaying for so long, today the funeral was finally held, perhaps signifying he had completely lost hope.

“Ladies and gentlemen!”

Amidst the many sympathetic gazes, Fu Qian turned around and spoke for the first time.

...“Thank you all for coming today.”

His voice was hoarse but resigned.

“Not long ago, a kind young man was murdered, and I also went through some tough times because of this.

“All this time, because of an unrealistic glimmer of hope, I didn’t hold a funeral for poor Sean…

“Fortunately, something quite good happened recently—I killed the person who murdered Sean.”

As Fu Qian said this, the crowd visibly stirred, including Chief Harry sitting in the front row.

In everyone’s watchful eyes, Fu Qian pulled out a brass revolver and affectionately caressed its texture.

“With this old friend of many years, I blew apart that scumbag’s heart.”

“Despite his skill at disguise, he couldn’t escape the vengeful eyes of a father.”

With a slight smile brimming with satisfaction, Fu Qian looked around and surveyed Collins and his group.

“Here, I want to thank my friends for all the care I received during this time, which got me through to today, like Grace…”

Fu Qian waved at Grace and Veil.

“Thank you for your suggestion; indeed, wine is a thing of this world worth savoring, and I almost wanted to take it into the coffin with me.”

A few chuckles rose from the crowd, but many more furrowed their brows with a sense of foreboding.

In the midst of these chuckles, Fu Qian withdrew his gaze and nodded to the side.

Corresponding to his gesture, a group actually carried a brown coffin forward and placed it beside Fu Qian.

This…

The crowd looked at each other in disbelief, subconsciously turning their gaze to Sean’s tombstone.

He had just been buried, so why was there another coffin?

“Anyway, I’m so glad you all could come. I have enjoyed my companionship with everyone during my not so short life.”

Fu Qian continued with a smile.

“My wish is fulfilled, and now there’s nothing left for me to cling to.”

“So this one is for myself. I like its design, and when the time comes, please bury me beside Sean.”

Pointing to the coffin at his feet, and amidst many puzzled gazes, Fu Qian turned the gun barrel and aimed it at his own chin.

“I’ll go to reunite with Sean, my friends, please witness this.”

As Fu Qian moved, screams erupted.

No one had expected such a turn of events.

People thought that Knight had finally let go of his obsession, but this old master was actually resolving to die.

Amongst the screams, Fu Qian appeared unaffected, smiling as he pulled the trigger.

A gunshot rang out, and blood and brains splattered.

In Collins’ grave expression, Old Man Knight’s top hat flew off, his head blown open by a gaping hole.

Within the bursting blood and brains, one could almost see the glint of shiny fragments.

“Move aside!”

The next moment, the chief of the town’s hospital pushed through the crowd and rushed forward to hold up Old Man Knight’s body.

After checking for a while, Collins stood up and shook his head to the people around.

Old Master Knight had already completely lost all signs of life.

“It’s actually true…”

In the midst of the chaos, Collins, who had discreetly stepped back, opened his palm and looked at the thin, eggshell-like transparent fragment, muttering to himself.

…

Night fell, and the cemetery once again became tranquil.

Following the tragic events of the day, in accordance with Old Master Knight’s last wish, his body was buried next to Sean’s, and now the grave was covered with fresh flowers.

And at this silent moment, a corner of the stone slab covering the grave was lifted, and a dark figure slipped out through the crack.

It seems one will have to wait a bit longer to know the result.

Fu Qian swayed a couple of times, quickly reverting to his original appearance.

For him now, simulating a suicide by gunshot to the head was a piece of cake.

The purpose of doing so, naturally, was to make the “death of Old Master Knight” seem reasonable and justified.

It wasn’t just about committing suicide in front of everyone, the most critical step was, before firing the gun, specially placing the transparent thin film from Nate’s head into his hat.

And clearly, the chief neurosurgeon Collins had discovered it.

This would greatly negate the possibility that “this Nate was an impostor.”

Next, to prevent cognitive dissonance, the direction of the braindance script where Old Master Knight is dead would be a very reasonable possibility.

With this, the contamination could truly be cleansed.

Yesterday, when Fu Qian confirmed the contamination came from Nate, he had already thought of this plan.

But how much assurance he had, that was still hard to say.

In fact, this was also a test.

If these people were completely detached from reality, disregarding the facts to script their own story, and his actions still couldn’t convey the message of Nate’s death, then it would indicate that this was a dangerous group, disaster waiting to happen.

And for such a scenario, Fu Qian had a contingency plan—starting from the core individuals, manually cleansing the contamination one by one (physically).

So this was also an opportunity for this group of people.

For them, being deceived would be the best-case scenario.

Fu Qian casually fiddled a few times, tidied up the grave again, and then stepped into the shadows.

At this point, the task hadn’t signaled completion, but that didn’t mean the plan had failed.

There was reason to suspect that confirmation of Nate’s thorough eradication would only come after each person entered the braindance state one by one.

Next, one would need to wait patiently.

…

Fu Qian didn’t go to check if there was a party happening at Collins’s house, but instead wandered around Byeluk in the night.

He had already memorized the scent of every individual; it was best to just watch and wait.

Speaking of this mission, it could be said to have it all—eating, drinking, playing, relaxing, without even direct conflict, truly a leisure trip.

But that didn’t mean there was no danger; theoretically, there was a large group of people here, any of whom could inflict fatal injuries on him, with Herrom being a living example.

The true reality seemed peaceful, but was actually fraught with peril.

Furthermore, the origins of this “See Me” sect were still uncertain up until now; they didn’t quite seem like something Collins had come up with in a flash of inspiration. There might be deeper underpinnings to consider in the future.

Lost in thought, Fu Qian looked up and realized he had once again arrived at Bernard’s bookstore.

Without ceremony, he pushed the door open and entered.

The disheveled store manager stared at him intently, and after a long while, without a word, lowered his head, giving up on the effort to drive him away.

In response, Fu Qian offered a smile and picked up a book to flip through casually.

[Current task has been completed, containment number 3-0111 successful.]

Finally, one hour before midnight, the prompt tone at last sounded.