Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Chapter 1215: Chapter 1213: The Night Holy City’s Stick Insect (21)

“Okay.”

Facing Fu Qian’s request, Su Gao simply responded softly.

Her demeanor was as natural as when she had been reminded earlier to come over and compensate for the damages.

“Don’t resist, just integrate yourself wholeheartedly like last time.”

Fu Qian didn’t disappoint this determination, and the next moment the Clear Dream Ring in his hand flickered.

This dim corner was instantly enveloped.

…

The previous occasion Fu Qian mentioned naturally referred to the initial encounter with Nepheli on Ye Island, the experience of cooperating with dream integration.

For Su Gao, this matter almost required no time for recollection.

And her proactive cooperation, coupled with Fu Qian’s improved control, allowed the Dream to form without even a ripple, truly a silent nourishment.

There was even no need to set an end rule; it was sufficient to maintain for a while.

“Look this way.”

And as he spoke, Fu Qian already had a small prism in his hand, while recalling a fun little experiment from years ago.

The next moment, as a beam of light entered, a rainbow stripe, not too wide, was projected onto a screen that appeared out of nowhere.

The simplest light scattering experiment, the rainbow also looked completely normal.

Fu Qian shifted his gaze back, assessing Su Gao once again.

Even entering the Dream, Su Gao looked just the same as before.

There was none of the tranquil and crystal-clear reaction with a thin presence as there had been during her last meeting with Nepheli.

Could it be that he was overthinking?

“Tell me the colors you see, in order.”

Fu Qian said gently the next moment.

“From top to bottom.”

Although she didn’t understand Fu Qian’s purpose, Su Gao obviously wouldn’t waste time questioning it and immediately started to precisely describe her observations.

“Red, orange… blue–”

Rainbows, being common phenomena, are quite familiar to everyone, and so Su Gao’s pace was naturally swift.

However, at a certain moment, her voice abruptly stopped, and she furrowed her brows.

“This…”

“What is it?”

As he exerted all his effort to stabilize the Dream, Fu Qian blinked and asked.

“It’s strange, the sixth color should be blue, and I know it’s blue, but I somehow faintly feel that the sky should be purple!”

Su Gao tried to describe the confusion she encountered in as concise a language as possible.

“Are you sure?”

Fu Qian listened intently, seeking confirmation again.

“Not sure.”

Su Gao shook her head.

“Make sure.”

Fu Qian snapped his fingers, adding an end rule to the Dream.

The rule was simple, requesting Su Gao to confirm the color of the sky she had just mentioned.

Hmm.

Su Gao instantly focused, deep in thought.

Her level of earnestness and attention was such that one wouldn’t notice the urgency caused by the dream rule.

Of course, even so, she soon showed a hint of pain.

But it only lasted for a few seconds, and the Dream shattered with a crash.

“The sky is purple.”

In the darkness, as she opened her eyes again and looked at Fu Qian, she declared firmly.

Purple… Could it really not be an overthought? Perhaps the worst possibility has arrived.

Confronted with her feedback, Fu Qian sighed in his heart and came to a rather pessimistic conclusion.

“Please wait a moment.”

Then, as if recalling something, Su Gao quickly took out a black-covered notebook.

Even older than the one in Lie Wen’s hands, it was much more exquisitely decorated.

The Abyssal Chronicle, Fu Qian naturally recognized it.

It seemed that Su Gao always carried it with her.

Without uttering a word, her finger slid across the blade and Su Gao quickly opened the notebook to a blank page, beginning to write with the blood that flowed out.

Considering the angle she deliberately maintained, Fu Qian could clearly see what she was writing; it was the same question from before.

[The clear sky is purple]

And the moment this line of writing was finished, it did not shatter directly.

This once again proved that what Su Gao had said was the truth; she truly believed the sky was purple.

Because according to the properties of the Chronicle, if one harbored doubt about what they wrote, it would shatter directly, rendering no judgment.

At this moment, of course, the unshattered text seemed to meet a Void eraser, being slowly and completely eradicated from the page.

Believed, but the statement was false.

“Mr. Fang.”

In the face of this bizarre development, instead of being bewildered, Su Gao simply watched Fu Qian earnestly.

It was evident that although the question about the sky’s color was a contradiction to common sense, she did not want Fu Qian to waste time clearing her confusion.

The only purpose of doing this was to confirm with Fu Qian, once again, that she believed the sky was purple.

“You’ve worked hard; in fact, you are right, the world itself is wrong.”

Fu Qian naturally comprehended this, nodding slightly in response.

“You simply haven’t gone with the flow.”

…

The scene on the Chronicle just now seemed very normal at first glance.

A wrong statement was judged as wrong, after all, how could the sky be purple?

But what if we temporarily forget common sense and focus solely on the question itself?

Under what circumstances would the sky be purple—simple, under the wrong ones.

When Su Gao wrote that line, Fu Qian had already confirmed the deduction: the worst possibility had come.

Although she had a significant connection with the Prism of Radiant Transformation, this person had hidden so carefully that there was not much actual knowledge.

This was also one of the backbones of the Prism’s plan to carry out its operations.

Fortunately, in this elaborately designed Abyssal contamination plan, Fu Qian had once done quite thorough sabotage.

The reward for that was a detailed explanation of Its operation plans in the subsequent task summary given by the Warehouse.

To summarize, the core was one thing—Misalignment.

The Prism of Radiant Transformation clearly held authority over color and light, planning on the surface to reflect different futures with different colors and let them couple in rotation, forcing an orderly restructuring of the Abyss.

But the actual focus was on constant subtle adjustments to the color within the same future, distorting the present moment’s correspondence with the far future until it becomes a complete mess.

It was like adding a lock with a password only It knew, to withstand the endless erosion of the Abyss.

In this game, the Warehouse’s role was, in fact, similar to that of the Abyss.

Fu Qian’s current state was to synchronize with the historical segment located by the Warehouse to carry out tasks; whatever happened within this time would either become part of history upon success or dissipate into nothingness upon failure.

And theoretically, the process of integrating into history was the very connection to the future.

The Prism’s methods against the Abyss appeared to be replicable here as well.

Namely, distorting this segment of history, making it unrecognizable and unmatchable to the future.

Eventually, even if Fu Qian completed his mission, the Warehouse would not be able to recognize it, unable to render a judgment of completion and conclude the mission.

This was the confidence with which It risked resources, vowing to take action and erase Fu Qian.

Just a slight delay would suffice for the Misalignment to reach a certain degree, and then, even if Fu Qian turned the Night Holy City into ruins, he would be unable to complete his mission and leave, merely awaiting the desperate endgame.