Facing an Ancient God for a Year - Chapter 2819

Chapter 2819: Chapter 2814: Do Not Soil

It’s a seemingly simple association to make.

Even if they didn’t know the name Tilani at that time, the Red Moon and Annalise were right there in plain sight.

The reason Fu Qian didn’t immediately probe in that direction was because several core conflicts were also evident.

For example, a most pressing one: If it really is the Red Moon, why didn’t it recognize me?

Considering the separate behaviors of the Red Moon and Prism of Radiant Transformation in Night Holy City, it’s clear that the former indeed lacked agility, unable to track me into the mission.

But during the mission on the Archipelago, it was like I directly intruded on its home ground.

Even using my true appearance, with only a barely concealing mask, having done no disguise at all.

Yet, the Red Moon seemed utterly unresponsive.

Now, however, “Annalise and Tilani” seem to subtly explain this point.

If Tilani really is the Red Moon, then one of its madness triggers is undoubtedly the clash between the two consciousnesses.

In other words, it’s very likely that, at certain times, she couldn’t maintain the self-perception of “mother.”

Put simply, during the bloody moon moment, it was projected in the guise of “Annalise.”

Including the protection extended to the King of the White Tower, which was also because of the Progenitor of the Blood Clan’s glimpse.

Of course, this Progenitor of the Blood Clan could be fictitious, remaining at the level of “the Red Moon’s self-claimed Progenitor of the Blood Clan,” much like Mr. Mo Sr. and his son during this mission.

But perhaps this is why I wasn’t recognized.

Besides this, there’s another significant doubt—why would the Red Moon be interested in the White Tower Codex?

The mission summary is very clear; the reason the Archipelago garnered attention was due to the peculiar ecology formed under wanton indulgence and ironclad rules.

But what attraction does such a thing have for the “Moon”? From Fu Qian’s perspective, it’s more relatable to that tree in Xi Yuan.

Indeed, the codex, ironclad rules, law… these elements clearly have more consistency.

In comparison, the Red Moon’s current flesh power and opening abilities are dramatically different in style.

Yet the recently completed mission brought a turning point to this conflict.

What if the Red Moon was attracted in the identity of Annalise?

Perhaps the Progenitor of the Blood Clan hadn’t previously displayed related to laws, but within this mission, a relatively close element appeared—the Truth Note.

Writing arbitrarily on it could adjudicate right and wrong, broadly speaking, isn’t this somewhat akin to laws?

Both define realities, one stipulating what can and cannot be done, another defining what’s right and wrong.

If solely this reason seems a bit far-fetched, there’s another factor: think about the relationship between the First Generation Dark Moon and the Golden Tree.

Theoretically, Annalise juniors have much maneuvering within the realm of laws.

Considering the ambiguous relations among the several moons, the probability of Annalise having explored legal matters undoubtedly continues to climb.

And along with the rising probability, her being attracted to the White Tower Codex increases.

In summary, although calling out the name didn’t elicit a response, Fu Qian still refuses to easily dismiss the possibility that Tilani is the Red Moon.

Thus decides to venture to a place potentially more likely to awaken its memories, trying to seek some old sentiment.

Besides this, the Archipelago holds significant meaning for my Rebirth Club; isn’t it reasonable to stop by for a look?

Even in the eyes of the Night Watchman, it makes perfect sense; remember that, as an Academy Professor, one identity is discontentment with the Archipelago’s unsavory chaos, daring to assassinate the King of the White Tower.

This is why Fu Qian is so unbridled in this journey.

Thud!

With a casual toss, the empty glass arcs perfectly into a distant trash bin, evoking a muffled sound.

And after completing this leisurely action, Fu Qian finally rises again from the recliner, turning to look in a certain direction.

A robust man, half his face extending to the neck covered with tattoos, is just turning his gaze back from the direction of the trash bin, looking somewhat lost.

Fu Qian’s maneuver was so well-timed that it almost coincided with them locking eyes.

“What are you looking at?”

It’s well-known in such confrontations—what are you staring at? It seems a bit awkward, but in worldly society, actively averting one’s gaze is utterly unacceptable.

The robust man immediately reacts with a sharp gaze, asking coldly.

“What are you looking at?”

Being out here mixing, Fu Qian couldn’t possibly be unaware of such etiquette, so he promptly smiles and nods in response.

“…You’re quite lucky.”

Looking like the phrase worked well, the muscular man’s eyes narrow slightly, surprisingly refraining from further rounds, merely responding in a cold manner.

“Indeed quite lucky, not a drop spilled.”

Fu Qian appears arrogant, with no intention of humility.

…What an uncanny resemblance, surely capital can transform people?

Last time, that burly man also tried exploiting the “strict prohibition on beach pollution” rule to make me suffer losses.

Yes, to Fu Qian, understanding what the other party just attempted is very easy.

Though the drink was completely consumed, a slight residue remained; at such an immense distance, it’s inevitable that some red liquid might have splashed during tumbling.

Regulars here are clearly sensitive to this; that fellow unfailingly scrutinizes throughout, trying to spot traces.

Too bad, for an academic leader, dealing with basic mechanics is no challenge.

With precise control, Brother Tattoo gains nothing.

“Are you messing with me?”

Of course, being somewhat perceptive, facing Fu Qian’s pinpointing, he evidently realizes the previous eye contact wasn’t accidental; the other party was indeed baiting.

And given that this brief exchange already attracted some surrounding attention, even the beverage staff glanced over, conceding this grudge is evidently unacceptable.

Thus, without hesitation, he steps forward, his tone already vicious—boom!

Unfortunately, not even the last word left his mouth cleanly as a straightforward punch forces it back.

As someone well-versed in the White Tower Codex, Fu Qian recalls that while the location prohibits pollution, physical confrontations are entirely permissible.

Considering Old Master Yibu is desperately maintaining hype, the probability of altering related regulations is extremely low.

Ugh—

A gut punch always induces nausea; Brother Tattoo instantly hunches his neck, aiming to transform into a spray warrior.

Only to have his next breath harshly blocked, forcibly holding it in.

“Stay down; this is for you.”

And completing this sequence, Fu Qian promptly lifts the person, tossing him onto the recliner, instructing to rest well.