Evil God 20
Museum of Dreams 2
Chen Yu followed Captain Duan into the repository.
The front section was a vast hall; overhead spotlights cast a dim, amber glow that gave the surrounding rafters an aged patina.
It was said that this museum had been converted from ruins left over from the Great War two and a half centuries ago; at some point, Quan Shigu had purchased the site and renovated it into a private museum.
Unlike the desolation outside, the air here was thick with the scent of dust from ancient architecture, and old timbers creaked and groaned in the shadows.
As Chen Yu stepped inside, it felt as though he were entering an ethereal dreamscape.
Captain Duan paused just inside the entrance.
He lowered his breathing and his right hand hung naturally at his side, ready to attack or parry at a moment’s notice.
At the same time, his gaze scanned the room like a searchlight.
The space was empty, yet rows of spotlights were illuminated, and the mopped grey brick suggested that the place was regularly maintained.
To the left and right of the front hall, heavy painted wooden doors stood slightly ajar; identical bronze plaques hung above their lintels, inscribed with “Exhibition Hall 1” and “Exhibition Hall 2,” respectively.
Towards the rear of the hall, the space opened up and extended inward, creating a much deeper expanse.
Beams of light from several spotlights shot down and converged at the far end to illuminate an area significantly wider than the side halls, not a standard doorway, but a stone arched entrance.
Two stone slabs were sealed, carved with patterns; they were fully twice the width of the doors to the side halls.
The plaque above the arch was bigger and bore an older style of script and two solemn words: Main Hall.
Captain Duan waved to Chen Yu behind him.
“We’ll search the halls one by one to see if Quan Qi is inside.”
Quan Qi, the target of their mission.
On the way over, Captain Duan had already briefed him on this young master: the only child of Quan Shigu and his legitimate wife, Xiang Tunan; he was seventeen years old.
Like every other spoiled rich kid Chen Yu had ever heard of, he squandered money recklessly and was completely uneducated; the outrageous antics he had openly engaged in were enough to fill a thick book.
As they spoke, the two of them walked toward the first hall.
The lighting in the first hall was dimmer than outside.
Display cases housing a variety of antiques, porcelain vases, calligraphy and paintings, and ancient weaponry lined the walls. Printed labels at the base of each item indicated its name and era.
Most of these antiques dated back to the time before the Great War two and a half centuries ago; each one was worth a fortune.
Chen Yu couldn’t help but sigh inwardly as he thought of the sudden thirty million credit debt he had incurred.
Next, the two of them moved into the second hall.
The style of this hall was vastly different from the first.
The display cases were not lined up against the walls but were scattered throughout the room, spaced far apart as if the items inside might negatively affect one another.
Chen Yu paused in front of the first display case.
Inside sat a palm sized ceramic doll; its facial features were crudely drawn in black ink, with one eye noticeably bigger than the other, both squeezed crookedly onto one side of its face.
The label read: Cursed Doll. Staring at it for more than three seconds causes one to sneeze.
Was this actually a sealed artifact?
Captain Duan glanced around the room full of display cases and explained to Chen Yu, “The contamination value of a sealed artifact is constant; as long as it is properly contained, it generally doesn’t pose a major threat to ordinary people. That’s why some wealthy collectors like to acquire harmless sealed artifacts as curiosities.”
Chen Yu moved from one display case to the next.
Aside from the sneeze doll, there was a bronze mirror that made anyone reflected in it look short and fat, a teacup that would spontaneously grow a small fish when water was added, and a chilling stamp that, when placed on food, would instantly cool it down.
This was an entire exhibition hall dedicated to sealed artifacts.
As Chen Yu examined these bizarre objects with keen interest, the little evil god coiled around his arm suddenly began to hiss.
Chen Yu followed his gaze, which eventually landed on three standalone display cases in the center of the hall.
Unlike the other cases, the glass on these three was noticeably thicker; inside, they held three pieces of jewelry that were obviously immensely valuable: a ring, a brooch, and a necklace.
Yet, there were no labels or descriptive plaques beside the cases.
Chen Yu walked up to the case containing the ring and leaned in for a closer look.
The ring’s setting held a dark red gemstone; a faint, luminous halo swirled slowly within its depths, resembling a clot of congealed blood.
The brooch nearby was shaped like a feather, its metallic surface covered in intricate, fine patterns; even through the glass, he could sense a texture so sharp it seemed capable of piercing the skin.
The necklace in the third case was strung together from an unknown blue crystal; it lay against a black velvet cushion, looking like a strand of blue ice beads that might melt, or drip water, at any moment.
“Are these sealed artifacts too?” Chen Yu asked.
Captain Duan frowned.
“They are Fragments of Authority.”
“?”
Chen Yu blinked in confusion.
He had obtained two Fragments of Authority in the past.
Whenever they were nearby, he would feel a seductive pull, an indescribable force of attraction, as if something were whispering and beckoning from the shadows.
Yet, while the gemstones before him were beautiful, they felt completely different from the Fragments of Authority he had encountered.
“This is a sealed Fragment of an Authority.”
Aware of Chen Yu’s confusion, Captain Duan explained, “Fragments of Authority are scattered throughout the Twilight Ruins; no one knows where they come from. However, according to the myth of the fallen Goddess of the Chaotic Ocean, it is generally believed that these fragments are the remnants left behind after a deity’s fall. If an ordinary person successfully fuses with and assimilates these remnants, they can randomly acquire a specific trait associated with that Authority.”
“It’s much like the selective expression of DNA. Human cells contain the complete genetic blueprint, yet different individuals selectively express different traits. The same principle applies to Fragments of Authority; although they are only fragments, they hold the complete information of the Authority. When different people fuse with them, they might randomly acquire different traits.”
“Take me, for example,” Captain Duan extended his hand. “I acquired my trait by fusing with a fragment of the War Authority. It’s called the ‘Truce Domain,’ and its effect is to generate a zone that nullifies all attacks.”
Chen Yu’s mind reeled slightly from the information.
“So, these sealed ones…”
Captain Duan looked at the three fragments fashioned into jewelry. His voice was laced with a hint of imperceptible coldness.
“Both touching and fusing with Fragments of Authority inevitably carry the risk of one’s contamination value spiraling out of control. And for wealthy individuals like Quan Shigu, nothing is more detestable than uncontrollable risk.”
“The people who hold the economic lifeline of this world, the executives at the Sixiang Corporation, for instance, are almost never God-Eroded themselves, yet they harbor a deep fear of the power that the God-Eroded possess.”
“They are both terrified of and covetous toward anything related to the Twilight Ruins. To flaunt their status, they pay exorbitant sums to have these fragments sealed so they can display them at home or even wear them as jewelry.”
Chen Yu couldn’t help but feel a wave of nausea.
“…These rich people are truly twisted.”
Just then, he suddenly remembered something and looked down at the little evil god clinging to his arm.
Moments ago, he had been tugging at Chen Yu to pull his gaze in that direction. He was unusually excited.
Yet, once Chen Yu actually approached the three display cases, he suddenly went quiet and motionless.
He seemed somewhat disappointed.
Chen Yu couldn’t make heads or tails of it, so he stopped paying him any mind.
The two of them searched the first and second exhibition halls but found no sign of Young Master Quan Qi.
In the end, they had no choice but to pin their hopes on the sealed stone door of the main hall.
However, those two heavy, thick stone slabs blocked the way with a seamless fit.
“How do you open a door like this?”
Chen Yu scrutinized the stone door; it looked like an antique that required a mechanism to operate.
“Do we need a key?”
While he was puzzling over the arched stone entrance, Captain Duan rolled up his sleeves, turned sideways, braced his shoulder, and slammed against the door.
A dull sound echoed in the silence, yet the stone door didn’t budge an inch. There wasn’t even the slightest sign of a gap opening.
“Do we need to buy a ticket to get in?” Chen Yu muttered.
“Probably not.”
Captain Duan looked up at the space above the archway; there were no written descriptions or signs regarding the hall.
“This place probably isn’t usually open to the public.”
Just as the two were considering their next move, the little evil god suddenly jumped down from Chen Yu’s arm.
He landed on all fours and used his withered limbs to support his palm sized body. The little evil god crawled toward a corner on the right like a deformed lizard.
There stood an inconspicuous door, almost perfectly blended into the surrounding decor.
As if he were following a scent, he ran into that corner; the door flipped open briefly, and his shriveled form vanished against the wall.
“Xiao Huntun!”
Chen Yu cursed under his breath and took off in pursuit.
He pushed open the door to reveal a staff corridor.
Flanking the passage were rooms piled high with cleaning supplies and spare display case parts; the air was filled with the smell of dust.
At the far end of the corridor stood an identical iron door, with dim, yellowish light seeping through the gap.
Chen Yu walked briskly over and opened it.
Suddenly, a vast, circular exhibition hall opened up before his eyes.
The vaulted ceiling was high, almost beyond sight, and the light pouring down from unseen sources illuminated the space and made it feel both bright and cavernous.
In the very center of the hall stood a transparent glass cylinder twice the height of a person, filled with clear liquid.
Submerged in the liquid was a young man of about seventeen or eighteen.
He was dressed in casual black and white clothing; his bare feet floated in the fluid, and his slightly long black hair floated gently in the current.
His eyes were closed peacefully, a small smile played on his lips, and he held an open notebook in his hands.
Twelve sets of empty knight’s armor surrounded the central glass cylinder.
They were arranged in a peculiar pose: hands holding sword hilts with the tips resting on the ground, all of them kneeling toward the cylinder.
Captain Duan, who had been trailing some distance behind, finally stepped through the iron door and into the main hall.
His took in every corner.
“This must be the main hall.”
“Is this Young Master Quan Qi?” Chen Yu pointed at the youth floating inside the glass cylinder.
Captain Duan nodded.
“That’s him; he matches the photo in the file.”
Meanwhile, the little evil god was pressed against the bottom of the glass cylinder. He scratched at the glass wall with his four small limbs, making a click clack sound, in a state of agitation.
Chen Yu walked over and lifted him up away from the cylinder.
“Not bad; I never expected you to be able to lead us straight to the main hall.”
As he spoke, he gently stroked the head of the little evil god.
This gesture was completely different from their usual interactions.
Normally, their exchanges were tinged with conflict, tugging, suppression, and a constant struggle for dominance.
But this time, the touch was entirely instinctive. It was warm, as if he were truly Chen Yu’s child, and Chen Yu were a father who, in his delight, would not hesitate to praise him.
The little evil god tilted his head back to look at Chen Yu; his chaotic eyes darted about, while his wrinkled little face remained expressionless.
Then, he opened his mouth to reveal toothless, pink gums and bit down on Chen Yu’s finger.
“Argh!”
Chen Yu gasped in pain and pulled his hand away; a row of deep tooth marks was already imprinted on his fingertip.
Captain Duan was watching the scene from a distance; he neither spoke nor approached.
Ever since the little evil god had jumped from Chen Yu’s arm, he had maintained a distance of at least three meters.
As his gaze drifted toward that shriveled infant, the bruise on his forehead throbbed with pain once more.
The image he had tried so desperately to forget resurfaced once again: Chen Yu standing on the white sands with black fluid gushing from his torn abdomen.
And those eyes peeking out from the ruptured abdomen, filled with chaos and malice, and something else entirely, something beyond human comprehension.
It was not a sight meant for human eyes.
Captain Duan looked away and pressed a hand against his forehead, his voice hoarse as he said,
“Alright, enough fooling around. Let’s get Young Master Quan Qi out of the tank first.”
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