Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

Dark red mycelium emerged from under his skin, piercing into Angel Eyes' arm and merging with his flesh.

"Ugh... um..." Newman's forehead began to sweat, and he instinctively tried to break free from the link, an action that seemed to place a heavy burden on him. Veins bulged beneath his exposed skin—his temples, face, arms—as if tiny snakes were writhing beneath it. But he endured the pain, almost grinding his teeth to powder.

Angel Eyes' expression was utterly calm as he looked down at Newman's face in the firelight, showing neither sorrow nor joy, as if he were doing something completely unrelated.

"almost."

"Om!!"

The intense impact felt like being stabbed hard in the temple with an awl. Newman's pupils, after changing several times, became dilated, one blue and one emerald, with a strange golden halo appearing in the blue pupil.

The fragmented pieces flashed by in his eyes like shooting stars.

"Ah...ah..."

People began to lose consciousness and fall to the ground. The man in the gray robe was so engrossed in the sound that he forgot to breathe, kept blowing until his lungs were empty. He would then faint and fall to the ground, which seemed to be a common occurrence and didn't attract anyone's attention. Everyone just kept blowing into the empty bottles, immersed in the deep, strange aftertaste.

Immensa, who was recording everything, took out his pocket watch, glanced at it, and said in a deep voice, "Ten seconds at most."

His timing was impeccable. Ten seconds later, only the last man in the gray robe with the iron lungs remained—Edley, the one who had stopped Zhang Renfeng from handing out flyers this morning. His face had turned a deep liver color, but he persisted in blowing air until his mind went blank, he lost control, and crashed to the ground with a thud.

“It’s over.” Im closed his pocket watch and warned, “Disconnect, or there will be danger.”

"No...no!" Newman grabbed Angel Eyes' arm. "Wait a little longer, just a little longer...cough! Cough cough cough..."

In just a few seconds, Newman was bleeding from all seven orifices and coughing uncontrollably. Dark red mycelium began to break through his skin and clothes, appearing on the surface as if struggling to crawl out of his body.

Seeing this, the angel expressionlessly raised his hand and ripped off the mycelium clinging to his body!

"Ugh!"

Newman screamed and fell down the stairs, landing heavily on the floor with a dull thud. However, the psychological trauma he suffered was far more severe than the physical pain. He didn't faint; his mouth was slightly open, and his pupils remained dilated, trembling violently.

"Wake up, next month's funding hasn't been transferred yet." Im half-squatted down, speaking in his characteristic dry humor, while holding up a finger and waving it in front of his face. "How many is this?"

"...I saw it..."

"What do you see?" Angel Eyes asked.

“Tonight!” Newman took several deep breaths to slow his heartbeat, but his tone still couldn’t hide the intense emotions surging within him. “Tomorrow morning, before sunrise, I will be killed. I didn’t see who the killer was, but I… I saw my last moments.”

"My head separated from my body, blood gushed from my neck and fell to the ground."

Describing oneself from a first-person perspective, witnessing one's own death, is something no normal person could bear, and Newman was no exception. His emotions grew increasingly agitated; his voice rose, his teeth chattered, and he added numerous physical gestures.

From another perspective, even this founder is still far from reaching the level of "emptiness".

“Yes.” In contrast, Angel Eyes’ tone was incredibly calm. “I saw it too.”

“Jon!” Newman looked at Angel Eyes and said through gritted teeth, “Don’t you think we should do something?”

"You think... who erased your name from the Illuminati's list? Who pulled you out of London's rubbish heap? It was me! Without me, you would have disappeared into the torrent of history like the Dietersdorf family, turning into a speck of dust!"

He became more and more enthusiastic as he spoke, disregarding the occasion and the crowd below the steps who were slowly waking up.

However, such a fierce questioning only elicited a blank glance from the angel's eyes.

Those heterochromatic eyes revealed little of humanity.

“I’ll say it one last time, I’m not Jon Snow, have you forgotten? I stopped a long time ago.” Angel Eyes’ tone was utterly calm, as if he were reiterating an axiom like one plus one equals two. “From that moment on, I was the Empty Man.”

"I am here not because of your request, but because it is necessary. Likewise, I will leave when it is necessary, that's all."

……

He turned and left without a moment's hesitation.

"Wait a minute!" Newman wiped his face hard, finally calming down. "I was being presumptuous. You're right, we shouldn't have done something unnecessary. But I just want to confirm it..."

"What we see through the 'connection'—is it the future, or just an illusion of the future?" He seemed to place all his hopes on a single sentence from Angel Eye. Although he had emphasized that he was not affiliated with a religious group, at this moment, his tone was as devout as that of a saint.

"Is it possible for me to change this future through some of my actions? Please, tell me something! It's 11 p.m., and there are still seven hours until the sun truly rises... This is my last chance; I cannot die here!"

Angel Eyes stared at him silently for a long time, then suddenly, his bichromatic eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a smile.

When he's not smiling, he just has an eerie, inhuman quality, but when he smiles, it's terrifying; you can only describe it in five words.

Not human at all!

"Time travel is something that should never exist."

The next moment, his voice suddenly turned cold, "No matter the circumstances, some people want to change the past, and some people want to change the future."

"I can't answer your question, I'm sorry, because I've never tried it, not even once. But, well, this answer probably won't satisfy you, given your will to survive? Just give it a try."

“Ha, ‘Enjoy it to your heart’…” Newman sneered, “As expected of the Void Man, so high and mighty.”

“You don’t need to envy me.” Angel Eyes turned around and walked away. “Most of the time, I can’t even be considered alive, at least not living in the ‘present’.”

Chapter 442: The Tower of Babel

Newman had other plans for tonight, and he usually made a trip to Immensa’s lab around this time as a superior to check on his subordinates’ work.

Then do some relaxing exercises, drink a glass of Negroni made from gin and Campari bitters, and go to bed in a pleasantly tipsy atmosphere for a dreamless night.

But right now, all of these have become insignificant matters. He must mobilize all the resources at his disposal to complete the most important main task for him—to survive tonight!

The role of accompanying them on the lab tour naturally fell to Angel Eyes.

Despite being called an experimental "room," Im's experimental site was not indoors at all, but rather a large, specific area of ​​forest. Im leaned on a cane in one hand and held a torch in the other, slowly making his way through the forest. The firelight swept across the silent night, and from above, the sea of ​​trees was so vast and boundless that he, amidst it, looked like a tiny firefly.

"This is it."

The two stopped under a tree.

The colonies here are different from the mushrooms we usually imagine, which can be described with quantifiers like "a single plant" or "a single flower." They grow in clusters, forming a vast, silvery-white sea, spreading across the ground, like a giant living organism, opening and closing as it breathes.

They seep into the ground, into the roots of plants, and into the veins of leaves. Sensing the approach of the two, countless colonies of bacteria on the trees, on the ground, and in the bushes came together and reacted, causing the entire forest to rustle.

A faint sound drifted through the air, like someone blowing on the mouth of an empty glass bottle, the echo lingering among the leaves.

"Which generation is this?"

"If we start counting from the one on you, this is the seventh generation. It's different from the previous ones; it has undergone a qualitative change. It responds very strongly to people's behavior and actions... Ha... I've raised mushrooms my whole life, and this is the first time I've ever seen something like this."

Im's voice was hoarse and weathered, and he seemed to only show a little excitement when talking about the fungi he cherished. He tapped the ground with his cane, "Like the previous six generations of [Ruo Fu], it's better to plant them on living flesh and blood than in the ground."

"After all, no matter how powerful they are, they are still just fungi; they can't grow legs to move. They need to parasitize living organisms to travel as far as possible, providing their hosts with a longer period of activity. And the host, in turn, carries their spores, spreading them to a wider world..."

"In just seven generations, it understood its situation and evolved a symbiotic system, which is truly chilling."

"If given more time, what would it become? Would more types of bacteria, more adapted to the human body, emerge?"

Although a chill ran down his spine as he spoke, there was no fear in Im's eyes. On the contrary, he lamented that he had only had the chance to meet this dreamlike creature in his twilight years.

"Mutual benefit, symbiosis... these are the greatest common denominators between organisms. Through experiments, I have analyzed part of its principles—there is no doubt that bacterial colonies are conscious, just different from our human 'consciousness'."

“In it, there are no individuals, only groups. We can regard all the [Rufous] born from the original strain in the world as a whole.”

Angel Eyes looked at him calmly, without saying a word, as if listening, or as if his soul had left his body and floated to the highest heavens.

“I keep stimulating it, and it keeps changing in order to respond. This collective consciousness seems to generate some kind of signal. I’ve tried many methods, but I still can’t capture it, or even confirm whether it exists. So what I’m about to say is just a conjecture.”

“Your role in the ritual is similar to that of a signal ‘receiver.’ So far, your synesthesia with Ruofu is 99.6%, which is probably the highest among humans. The signals we receive from you are also the clearest.”

"The senders of those signals must be the colonies of the future! Only through the connections between these colonies can we glimpse fragments of the future."

"So?" Angel Eyes asked calmly, though with a hint of indifference.

"Don't you understand? Newman Rudinburgh's life or death is completely irrelevant. What's more important is that Rudinburgh can become a bridge connecting people!"

It was only here that Im's tone became truly excited: "With it, regardless of region, skin color, or language, people can truly understand each other. All the thoughts of everyone will be intertwined, and there will be no more conflict, bloodshed, or war! This is the second Tower of Babel that mankind has discovered since language."

"Humans standing at the pinnacle are capable of creating even more magnificent civilizations!"

……

"No, that won't happen." Angel Eyes shattered his illusions with a very blunt tone. "Humans are a species that knows how to destroy themselves better than you think."

The two were silent for a while.

In the firelight, Im's expression shifted between light and shadow, and his facial muscles twitched slightly.

The silvery sea of ​​microbial colonies bubbled and billowed, resembling a real ocean bubbling with light.

"Ha... Jon Arryn, you're still the same as before, you don't know how to mince words at all, always saying things I don't want to hear." Im's dream was shattered in an instant, and his tone turned cold as well, "You never do a single thing I ask you to do."

"Well then, I hope I haven't let you down this time."

Angel Eyes turned around, took a double-sealed iron barrel from the saddlebag, and smashed it on the ground with a loud thud.

"This is..." Im had a pretty good idea of ​​what was inside, but didn't rush to open it. "How did you get it?"

“I made a friend who’s really good at hunting, he’s Native American.” Angel Eyes kicked the jar and said casually, “A bear’s heart, a wild boar’s tusk, and an alligator’s snout are all in there. It’s filled with ice, which is changed every two hours, and it hasn’t spoiled yet. Use it quickly if you want to.”

“…My friend.” Im gave him a meaningful look. “I can’t help but wonder, is your friend Jon Arryn, Angel Eyes, or the Empty Man?”

Who exactly are you beneath this exterior?

……

"What does it matter? No matter which of these three identities you choose, the result will be the same."

Angel Eyes smiled back, his heterochromatic eyes seeming to pierce through the walls and peer into the secret chamber deep within the sanctuary as his head turned, “It’s as if…no matter what he chooses, he will be beheaded before the sun rises tomorrow.”

"Is this your conclusion that the future cannot be changed?" Im asked.

"I don't know if the future can be changed, I only know... when we hesitate about which fork in the road to take, we've actually been on the road for quite some time. In the end, where this road will lead us, whether to a glorious morning or a cold rainy night, is simply a matter of each person's own choice."

Chapter 442: The Apocalypse Arrives

With a "thud," the glass was slammed onto the table, splashing out a few drops of chilled brandy.

Several empty bottles were already laid out on his table. He swallowed glass after glass of strong liquor, but felt no relief whatsoever. He couldn't even tell the difference between drinking alcohol and drinking water; both were equally bitter.

Seeing his subordinate hurrying over, he gritted his loose back teeth and asked, "Have all the arrangements been made?"

“Everything has been arranged,” Edley said in a deep voice. “All security forces have been doubled, and all available personnel have been deployed around the inn. Every intersection and every narrow alley is staffed with our own people.”

"Any potential resistance will be nipped in the bud. Tonight, as long as you remain in the hostel, your absolute safety is guaranteed!"

His tone was resolute, and at such a time, such words were undoubtedly the most comforting.

Newman felt a little relieved, but he didn't show it on his face. He wouldn't be dismissive of the situation until the sun rose the next day.

In those fragmented pieces, he neither saw the murderer nor clearly saw how he was killed.

Thinking in reverse, who would want to take my life?

“There are always some stubborn troublemakers who are unwilling to accept the hostel’s kindness and even have reservations about our preaching. I’ve investigated them, and they’re all elderly stubborn old men who keep talking about tradition,” Edley said in a deep voice. “If you need, I’ll take some men now and lock them up for the night.”

"It might be them, secretly plotting something against you."

"...Do you know Dover Doolin?"

“I read this name in the hotel’s files,” Edley said in a deep voice. “He was one of the first subjects to receive the injected roebeest experiment.”

"What was inside him was the most primitive roewe fungus, which hadn't even started to produce on a large scale. Even so, he was still able to run out of the fire after his throat was slit by Jack's gang."

Newman pointed to his arm, his tone turning somber and impatient. "And inside me is the genuine 'Seventh Generation Jowo'! Edley, do you really think a few farmers with pitchforks and revolvers can take me down?"

……

Edley fell silent for a moment.

"It's alright, just... don't waste time on other things. Focus on setting up defenses around here. When the sun rises tomorrow, everything will be clear, and I won't forget your contributions to the inn and to me!"

"Someone like me owes everything I am today to Mr. Newman's guidance!"

Edley's eyes were resolute, half in loyalty and half in genuine emotion: "In the dark days of Dover, people couldn't even get enough to eat and had to sell their physical labor to earn a meager wage."

"After he was killed by Jack's gang, life didn't necessarily get any better for everyone. More than ten mayors came and went, but none of them stayed in office for more than a year, and no one was willing to actually share their money with the townspeople."

“I believe there are many people like me in this town. They will be willing to help you if you give the order.”

"Really? That's good." He sighed and waved his hand. "You don't need to worry about me. Go and get busy. Check everything that needs to be checked again."

……

"and many more!"

His gaze inadvertently swept across the wall and fell upon a painting hanging there.

The red-clad knight rode a chestnut warhorse, accompanied by a golden-furred, agile wolf.