Chapter 748: Chase

Chapter 748: Pursuit

The Way of Forgetfulness was, in truth, a madman who had gone astray in his pursuit of falsity and fallen into madness. Yet no one had ever seen him—those who had succeeded in cultivating falsity, including the Way of Forgetfulness itself, believed that this state was the correct one.

"How pitiful," Li Huowang murmured to himself. Perhaps the dice already knew of this; he had become too deeply entangled, and turning back might prove difficult.

Li Huowang lowered his gaze and slit open the man’s belly before extracting the soft stone from within, placing it beside the wound.

A tentacle emerged from the navel, dragging the object back inside.

What these cult followers fought over—the cooked, softened stone—was nothing more than a piece of Li Huowang's own liver that he had cut away. He had tried other substitutes, but he still felt this was the most fitting.

"Dad, what have you been up to lately? I can’t quite follow." The neck of Li Sui cracked open, revealing her eyes.

"I’ve been deceiving them."

"So that’s how deception works!" Li Sui suddenly understood. She had learned something new from her father.

Now that her goal had been achieved, it was time for Li Huowang to leave.

At this moment, he stood in the heart of territory controlled by the Four Qi Sect. Naturally, such a commotion would not go unnoticed.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Li Huowang revealed himself instantly, wiping his face and transforming it into the likeness of the dead Hu Biao.

He slashed his right hand off and threw it to the ground, immediately collapsing in pain.

"Quick! He... he ran that way!" Li Huowang trembled as he raised his bloodied finger to guide the pursuing cultists.

Watching the furious cultists chase after the direction he indicated, Li Huowang quickly stood, picked up the severed hand, and followed them silently from behind.

By the time they realized they had been tricked and turned back, Li Huowang had already withdrawn in the opposite direction.

Once he changed faces and arrived at a remote county town, the danger of being tracked was lifted.

Li Huowang sat down in the main hall of an inn, having worked hard and now feeling hungry. “Host, bring me some food.”

“Right away! But sir, in these troubled times, some things are hard to come by. I can only offer what’s in the kitchen.”

“No problem, anything that fills my stomach will do.”

Soon, half a fragrant braised sheep’s head was placed before him, accompanied by two pieces of soft baked flatbread.

“Sir, this is soybean paste, and this is vinegar. Cut the sheep’s head meat, dip it in sauce and vinegar, stuff it into the flatbread, and bite—it’s delicious!”

Li Huowang stared at the sheep’s head for a while. When he noticed it didn’t open its mouth like last time to speak to him, he picked up a small knife and began eating.

As his cultivation of falsity continued, Li Huowang found that the side effects of true cultivation were indeed recovering.

At least, he no longer feared that everyone around him was fabricated by his own mind.

The more he understood falsity, the more he came to understand truth.

Compared to Non-Gang and the techniques of the Way of Forgetfulness, the greatest change in Li Huowang was his mindset—a shift in the very nature of deception.

This transformation was exactly what he needed to counteract the side effects of true cultivation.

Whether one could no longer distinguish between reality and illusion, it was all a matter of mental adjustment.

True cultivation and falsity cultivation now felt like a rope pulled taut on both sides of his body, left and right, perfectly balanced.

With growing understanding of falsehood, he had gained control over what was truly real—and what he himself had created as real.

Cultivation of falsity truly could heal the madness brought by true cultivation. Whether this was a lure from the dice or a sweet trap he had thrown out, Li Huowang had to swallow it.

Though the troubles of true cultivation were resolved, he must remain vigilant against the dice’s schemes—even if there were no signs yet.

“Dice, what exactly are you trying to do? You’re dead, the Way of Forgetfulness is wiped out—what else can you possibly do?”

Li Huowang, lost in thought, raised the small dagger with which he had stabbed the lamb and slowly inserted it into his mouth.

But just then, a sudden movement stirred within him. A crack appeared behind his left ear.

When Li Sui’s eyes quickly glanced toward a man seated to his left, Li Huowang immediately sensed something was wrong. Those two couples had glanced at him.

It wasn’t unusual for strangers to be looked at, but the way those two quickly withdrew their gazes told him otherwise. Common folk couldn’t do such a thing.

“Sir, did you enjoy the sheep’s head?” The cook, bent over with a servile smile, asked Li Huowang.

As four pairs of eyes swept the surroundings, gathering details, Li Huowang gripped his Purple Ear Sword and slashed fiercely. The cook’s head flew into the air.

In the spray of blood, the head did not fall but instead whipped toward Li Huowang’s hair and face, transforming into a blood-dripping blade aimed at his skull.

A black tentacle emerged from Li Huowang’s neck, pulling out his copper coin sword. As coins danced through the air, the black blade was scattered.

The once peaceful inn erupted into deadly intent.

Customers, the accountant, even the waiters drew weapons and charged at Li Huowang.

He could handle them, but his expression grew grim—he couldn’t tell who had sent them. Could it be... the dice?

Just as he was about to deal with them, the beams of the three-story inn suddenly cracked, and the upper floors, weighing thousands of pounds, crashed down upon him.

The sound of shattering stones echoed, debris flying everywhere. From the ruins, figures with black tentacles rose again.

As the dust settled, Li Huowang saw the massive change around him—everyone in the town had discarded their disguises.

Black cloth draped their shoulders, white banners were raised, and great statues were carried as they surrounded the collapsed inn from all sides. He was surrounded.

Yet when he saw the sect marks on their bodies, something unexpected gave him relief.

He had been ambushed by the sect, despite his efforts to hide his presence. He knew this time he faced a formidable opponent.

Then, from the left of the crowd, a path opened. Four strange figures, each holding an umbrella, stepped out slowly.

Their faces were hidden beneath black umbrellas, towering at least ten feet tall. Their long robes reached their knees, and their arms, covered entirely by sleeves, showed no sign of flesh or blood.

(End of Chapter)