The Jester of Apocalypse

Chapter 83: Dead Ends, Yet Again

Chapter 83: Dead Ends, Yet Again

The smell of books, dried parchment, tanned leather, and old paper filled the air. Pages shuffled, disciples whispered, clatters and murmurs filled the cramped areas between the shelves of the grand library. In a small corner dedicated to herbology books, several meek disciples struggled to focus on their studies.

A young brunette girl whispered to the disciple beside her, “What do you think happened to him?”

Her friend replied, “I don’t know… He had a conversation with him just a few minutes ago. You think they had a fight?”

“Hmmm, I doubt it. I think it’s pointless to debate what those monsters talk about. They’re likely involved in bigger plots than we will ever touch.”

“Uwaah. I don’t envy them if it can leave someone looking like that.”

“...Yeah. I’m glad I’ve convinced my family to let me become an alchemist. Even the risk of death by an explosion isn’t that stressful…”

Indeed, even though he had overheard their conversation, the target of their gossip had far more important things to worry about. He was sweaty, his eyes were bloodshot, and his crystal heart beat and chimed in his chest, every cling marking another moment where he failed to solve his problem.

I… I can’t get back in.

Neave was stuck. He had knocked himself out dozens of times but failed to return to the nightmare realm.

Why…? Why can’t I get back in?

Neave was simply frozen. His mind rushed to find an idea, a solution, but the flood of paranoia halted any rational thought before it could find ground.

He had bet everything on the opportunity to endlessly experiment within the nightmare realm. As it stood, he was too damn weak to even face someone on the first step of the diamond path, let alone a heavensdamned heavenly messenger.

There was only one thing he could do now.

Run.

The ‘lost child’ was enough by itself to attract immediate attention to the capital of the empire. Thus, Neave had to go somewhere else. Immediately.

He got off the chair and hurriedly paced out of the library, hoping to attract as little attention as possible.

Neave walked out of the building and was struck by the overbearing pressure of the capital crowds.

Colorful robed cultivators ran everywhere, masterfully weaving around one another and avoiding collisions. Talking beasts and people with distinct animalistic features made their way through the crowds.

The overbearing buildings of the upper echelon of the empire’s sects cast shadow and colorful reflection alike, bathing the streets in a chaotic blend of impressions.

A myriad of scents made themselves known, be it the perfumed desire for civilized presence or the sweaty armpits of the trainees present.

Neave used his shapeshifting to dull the bright colors of his hair a bit, to make sure he stood out as little as possible.

His heart beat wildly as he glanced through the crowds. Everyone who as much as lay eyes on him was an immediate target of suspicion.

Would there be only one heavenly messenger? Or perhaps there would be hordes of spies, countless goons combing their dirty fingers through the capital, feeling any bumps and kinks in the intertwined threads of clues Neave had left behind.

With every moment that passed, Neave felt the pressure mount and his steps hasten. Before long, he was running. He turned a corner once, twice, and the moment he was out of sight, he morphed into a wormlike shape that sank into the ground and made its way through the capital.

Neave quickly tracked down one of the paths he had previously used and zoomed through the underground, swiftly making his way toward the middle circle of the empire. Once there, he left the underground and ran, resorting to the faster, albeit less stealthy option.

He blazed past the slightly less overbearing architecture of the middle circle and made his way to the lower-class areas of the outer ring. Towers still sporadically marked the subordinate territories of the big players in the empire, but the vast majority of buildings reached only a handful of stories high.

Neave, utterly disregarding the privacy of the sects, ran over their roofs and through the courtyards, leaving little more than a faint shadow of his presence.

Soon enough, he reached the wall of the capital. He didn’t even bother jumping over it. He used a movement technique to phase through the wall and appear on the other side.

Neave’s foot landed on the ground, and he ran to the…

Every cell in his body exploded as his instincts flared up. He sensed something. His foot had already been planted into the ground, but his speed carried him forward. Neave twisted and turned, annihilating his momentum with a technique. However, it wasn’t enough. His nose touched the faint presence he was sensing.

“Shit!”

Neave screamed and burrowed underground. He tried passing beneath it, but the presence stretched beneath the ground as well. He popped back up and used several movement techniques to get as high as possible, but it was fruitless.

The entire capital was surrounded by a barrier.

Neave could move through it easily. After all, it wasn’t really stopping him from moving in the first place. However, it was apparent that that wasn’t what the barrier was designed to do.

This was a detection field—one placed by someone mighty.

Neave had only touched it a bit, and he was sure it wasn’t…

Immediately, Neave used several movement techniques to shoot toward the ground, where he promptly buried himself as deep as possible. Not even thirty meters below the ground, he was forced to stop.

They had arrived.

Neave shrank his worm form as much as he could and eliminated any trace of his presence. He focused and could faintly hear footsteps above the ground.

Three platinum path cultivators stood just above him and looked around.

Neave heard their voices, albeit just barely.

Someo… The field… Know… Suspici… Master…

Neave heard another voice.

Wait… Shrink… Hiding…

Neave felt like his soul was squeezed as he felt the barrier shrink and move toward him. He moved through the ground, slowly inching forward.

Did… Hear… erground…?

Neave froze again. He focused inwardly and silenced his spirit, using the same technique he used in the fight against Astrador to partially deactivate his spirit powers.

He winced as he felt his body morph and shape into standard form. Without the total influence of the shape-shifting power, he could just barely maintain this form.

Rustling… se alarm?

Neave couldn’t move, yet he still felt the barrier shrinking, moving toward him. He inched as far from it as he could, but he was afraid that the tiniest bit of noise, the slightest disturbance of soil, would alert them to his presence.

However, the barrier didn’t stop. It kept crawling inward, gradually shrinking as Neave desperately moved away.

Soon it arrived within a few meters of him. Not even three seconds later, it was less than a meter.

Just as it was about to touch Neave’s body again, he reactivated his spirit powers and moved as fast as he could through the soil, right back toward the capital.

There! … after… what the…?

Neave was surprised by just how quickly he moved through the ground. Within seconds he was back beyond the wall, and soon enough, he unburrowed inside an empty building. He morphed into a plain-looking man and walked out onto the streets, looking as busy as he could while entirely silencing his spirit.

Moments later, he spotted them. Three people of overwhelming beauty, a man and two women, each on the third step of the platinum path, jumped down from a rooftop and pointed around. Almost immediately, one of the women pointed at the building Neave unburrowed into, and all three broke through the damn wall to enter.

Many people screamed, and the masses ran away, fearing a terrorist or bandit attack.

Neave ran among them, putting on a panicked expression with surprising ease and joining the crowds in sprinting away from the disturbance.

After a few minutes of running, it was clear he had lost them, so Neave reactivated his powers and moved through the capital again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Who were these people? That was a dumb fucking question, and Neave knew it. The barrier felt incredibly similar to the anchor inside the nightmare realm.

The damn messenger had already arrived.