Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Having admired himself for just half a second, Fu Qian started examining the object he got from the Skeleton’s hand.

His time was running out; under the scorching light of the oil lamp, he could lose his ability to act at any moment, entering a state of awaiting death.

It was a blackened, round iron piece, roughly the size of a watch dial, and it appeared to have a sense of antiquity.

The iron piece was very thin, making it unlikely that it contained anything within.

Fu Qian toyed with the iron piece in his hand, then suddenly remembered something.

Turning back, he propped up the Skeleton’s head again, but this time, Fu Qian directly opened its jaw and reached inside.

When the Skeleton had screamed earlier, it seemed like there was something inside.

After fumbling around for a bit, Fu Qian pinched something out with two fingers.

It was a hefty, spherical object.

With the search over, Fu Qian examined his findings, one in each hand.

First was the stone from the throat.

About the size of a thumb, the oval surface was covered in dark red patterns, with dozens of uneven spikes interwoven throughout the twisted pattern.

If it wasn’t clearly a stone, he might have thought it was some kind of mutated tonsil.

As for the iron piece in his right hand, one side was blank, but the other, after wiping away the dirt, had a strange pattern outlined by crude lines.

Beyond these two items, there seemed to be nothing else useful in the room.

Could they be used to counteract the Discoloration State? That would require quite a bit of imagination.

Fu Qian looked back at the Skeleton, envisioning its state before death.

From its posture, it looked as though it had been holding the spiked ball in its mouth, its eyes fixated on the iron piece.

But what use was that?

After a moment’s thought, Fu Qian gripped the spiked ball tighter, and the skin of his palm was punctured by the spikes.

In the light of the lamp, the liquid that flowed out was nearly transparent.

Was this what they called Discoloration?

Recalling his mission objective, Fu Qian took a quick glance at his body.

All over, his flesh seemed to be turning transparent bit by bit, and he could even vaguely make out the bones beneath his skin.

Continuing this way, he reckoned he would soon meet the same fate as the owner of the iron piece.

At the same time, the pain in his palm made his consciousness clear.

This thing…

Fu Qian tried scratching his arm with his fingernail.

A cut appeared on his semi-transparent skin, but there was no sensation at all.

Shouldn’t sensation and reason both disappear in the Discoloration State?

Yet this stone allowed him to feel pain, thus maintaining a degree of cognition?

Fu Qian exhaled, forming a rough hypothesis of the stone’s function.

It seemed the deceased had been using it to stay alert.

What about the iron piece?

Fu Qian thought for a moment, then pushed the Skeleton aside.

He took its place, sitting down and assuming the same posture he had envisioned.

One hand holding the stone, the other holding the iron piece pattern-side facing him, he focused all his attention on it.

Almost instantly, Fu Qian felt the pattern in his field of vision start to move.

At the same time, something seemed to awaken inside him, as silent howls filled his consciousness.

The sensation of life seeping away began to slow.

From that moment until now, he had felt his heartbeat for the first time.

After an indeterminable amount of time, Fu Qian slowly opened his eyes.

The feeling of life draining away had completely stopped.

After a long exhale, Fu Qian looked at the Skeleton beside him.

This one seemed to know how to combat Discoloration and had even prepared the way, but unfortunately, it failed in the end.

[Current mission has been updated.]

[Find a way to escape the prison.]

A new task notification had appeared, confirming that the previous one was already complete.

Find a way to escape from prison…

The first thing Fu Qian thought about was the prison guard who came in to refill the lamp; without a doubt, that was an excellent opportunity.

The problem was that not only was the prison guard’s stature tall and big but he could even lift the lampshade with one hand, indicating that his strength was clearly beyond that of an ordinary person.

Bringing him down with his current condition seemed very unlikely.

Thus, for the following time, Fu Qian barely moved at all and focused his attention entirely on the metal strip.

Soon, his skin began to regain its color bit by bit, and he could even feel an increase in strength within his body, while the faint glow emanating from his skin gradually diminished.

Not knowing how much time had passed, with an itching sensation, Fu Qian’s arms began to grow circles of fine scales.

This scene was quite horrifying, but Fu Qian didn’t stop there.

After all, each increase in strength by a fraction meant a greater chance of getting free by a fraction.

A little side effect was no problem.

It wasn’t until there were no more changes in his body that Fu Qian finally stopped.

Feeling the power inside him, it almost felt like he was reborn.

By previous standards, it was at least at the level of the Eighth Phase.

Fu Qian made this judgment silently.

It was difficult to tell time in the closed space but it probably hadn’t been a full day.

Fu Qian was fairly satisfied with this efficiency. He was just thinking of standing up when he suddenly swayed and fell over.

What’s happening?

He had clearly intended to stand up, but why had he moved his hand instead?

Motor neuron disorder? Fu Qian remembered a skill called “Disorder Charge.”

Was it a side effect of that thing?

If that really was the case—

Fu Qian’s mind raced as he adjusted his body, slowly getting used to the new order.

For example, using the command to lift his head to control his legs.

However, just as he was barely getting used to it, the chaotic feeling suddenly disappeared.

The abrupt contrast almost made him fall again.

Coming without a trace and leaving without a shadow, this thing was a bit of a trap.

It wouldn’t come back every so often, would it?

While thinking, Fu Qian waited in silence.

Sure enough, after a while, the chaotic feeling surged through him again.

This time he was prepared and tried to apply the experience he had just gained.

However, it turned out that the chaotic effects were random, and the plan he had just made was already ineffective.

This is such a nuisance!

While feeling exasperated, Fu Qian didn’t hesitate to continue experimenting.

If this situation persisted, he would have to get used to it.

Finally, after undergoing the chaotic impacts more than ten times, Fu Qian gradually adapted to these periodic disturbances and reduced the time it took to regain control of his actions to within one minute.

As long as it didn’t happen during combat, there shouldn’t be any problem.

Fu Qian looked at the oil lamp in the middle of the cell; there wasn’t much oil left.

The prison guard should be coming in soon, and his current condition was good enough to give it a try.

Fu Qian began silently adjusting his body, preparing for the action to come.

…

Clang!

The sound of the door opening came, and by then Fu Qian had returned to sitting in the corner of the cell.

To avoid exposing his state, he buried his face down and covered as much of his exposed skin as possible.

The fully wrapped prison guard appeared again, floating straight in without any hint of observing the prisoner’s condition, and directly lifting the lampshade to refill the oil.

Fu Qian slowly moved to the guard’s blind spot.

Just as he was about to make his move, his nerves misfired, almost causing him to fall over once more.

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