Apocalypse: Master of Soul Beasts

Earth, France, Paris.

The scent of flowers filled the air, bird calls were crisp, and the breeze occasionally lifted her skirt, revealing half of her fair calves.

Carmille enjoyed such an environment—quiet, beautiful, despite the towering walls around; there was no sense of confinement, but rather a classic beauty.

At this moment, Carmille sat in the central garden of the Demigod’s mansion, holding her drawing tools, quietly depicting the scene she observed—for her, this was both life and pleasure.

Brush strokes danced, lines appeared on the canvas, then came the colors, and the painting was completed swiftly. Moments later, she finished one painting and picked up another canvas, seemingly wanting to forever remember everything here.

But the tranquility was fleeting, until a particular moment when the main courtyard door was pushed open, and two figures appeared in the corner of Carmille’s eye.

One figure was very familiar—that was the caretaker of the Demigod’s mansion, an impeccably dressed Englishman, while the other was entirely robed in black, the robe tightly concealing his body without the slightest gap.

Carmille merely glanced briefly and then returned to her painting, sketching the lines, but as the two people moved closer, inevitably appearing within Carmille’s depiction, her brush gradually came to a halt.

Speaking of Carmille’s Skill System, it was quite interesting; she could manifest what she drew into reality and imbue it with a certain level of instinct and even combat awareness. This skill was not limited to drawing people; it could also be used for objects, though the combat abilities of the materialized objects weren’t outstanding but still found other uses—for example, creating a place to stay in the wilderness.

Correspondingly, since Carmille acquired this skill, she unknowingly used it every time she painted; for one, the created paintings were vivid and more flavorful, and two, keeping more paintings was always beneficial, wasn’t it?

However, the feedback from the skill just now left Carmille momentarily stunned. She lifted her head, looked at the man in the black robe, curious about why her skill exhibited some unusual response, but this point of doubt came quickly and went equally fast as Carmille merely shook her head slightly, not intending to investigate further the cause and effect.

Thus, she picked up her brushes once again, drawing lines on the paper.

The tip of the brush softly touched the paper as Carmille unhurriedly sketched a human silhouette on the canvas, which bore about eighty percent resemblance to the figure of the approaching black-robed man. Yet as she completed the silhouette, her face suddenly turned pale, as she felt as if her internal organs had been hit by a critical strike! Her blood surged violently within, and unexpectedly spurted out of her lips, ”Poof,” staining the paper red.

”Miss Carmille, are you alright?”

The caretaker, keen to notice the anomaly here, stepped forward and asked with concern. After a pause, Carmille finally lifted her head, looked at the caretaker’s aged face, then glanced at the thoroughly concealed black-robed man standing behind him, thoughts racing through her mind, yet she merely wiped her mouth and shook her head lightly.

”It’s nothing serious, just feeling somewhat unwell recently.”

She coughed up blood; she must be feeling rather unwell... the caretaker mentally commented, knowing full well Carmille was merely being dismissive. However, burdened with an important task, he merely nodded and advised some matters like taking rest, then proceeded to move in the direction he was headed previously.

Only when their figures faded into the backyard did Carmille pick up her brush again, observing the paper which only depicted a silhouette, her eyes surging with curiosity.

”Who could it be?”

She wondered internally like this.

But no matter who it was, the painting surely couldn’t be completed.

...

Returning to her room, Carmille took a bath, changed clothes, and unfolded the canvas again, preparing to paint another piece by the window.

Yet as her peripheral vision swept across the silhouette left on the previous canvas, a ripple of emotion stirred in Carmille’s heart.

An emotion named curiosity rose from the depths of Carmille’s soul, prompting her to ponder deeply. Ultimately, she left her room and proceeded towards the Demigod’s office.

...

Although the Demigod’s mansion in Paris was sizeable, it housed not many servants. Carmille navigated the quiet corridors, her mind constantly speculating about the black-robed figure she had just seen.

”A carbon copy of Earth’s will? No... Wen Yu, shouldn’t be... Tang Haofei? It’s possible though.”

Carmille didn’t realize she had guessed the truth, not until she drew closer and faint whispers reached her ears. The voices were indistinct and intentionally muffled, as curiosity burgeoned within her like an emerging sprout. Left pondering, Carmille returned to the dining room, brewed two cups of tea, deciding to fulfill her obligations as the hostess here.

Carmille carried the tray back to the corridor; the closer she got, the more obscured the sounds became—clearly the Demigod’s office had excellent soundproofing.

Until she arrived at the door of the Demigod’s office only to be stopped by two guards.

”Sorry, miss, Lord Demigod is occupied with important matters.”

Their unequivocal denial quelled Carmille’s curiosity—this matter could go either way, and the curiosity was merely a whim, not overly intense.

Upon hearing this, Carmille nodded, then turned with the tray, intending to abandon her spontaneous impulse.

Yet just then, the door was pushed open, and the figure in black robes stood at the entrance, gazing at Carmille, his lips curling up with a faint, amused smile.

”Since you’re here, why not come in and join us?”

He spoke in such a manner, his shining eyes leaving Carmille momentarily stunned...

It was indeed Tang Haofei.

...

”Tang Haofei, don’t you think this is a bit inappropriate?”

After Carmille served the tea, the Demigod spoke, glancing at Carmille who sat awkwardly nearby, and then at Tang Haofei seated opposite, unable to restrain his questioning...

If it were a secret discussion, then it would be known only by heaven, earth, you, and me. Although Carmille was not a stranger—one might instead say that the two had confirmed their relationship, needing only the wedding ceremony to formalize it—there are aspects that should be concealed even from family.

Such as today’s secret discussion with Tang Haofei...

However, Tang Haofei merely waved his hand grandly, unraveling his black robe, revealing his full form and visage. Then he casually stretched, glanced at Carmille, whose expression wasn’t well, and finally said with a smile.

”Earlier you mentioned things like the Yanjing subversion plan, wanting me to take action to demolish the Eternal Sky City, assassinating Fran and Yanjing’s experts...”