Lord of Mysteries: The Cultivator - Chapter 29

“So, you are now a super jinx who can infect others?”

“If I made you into a golem, would the bad luck still exist?”

On the “Future,” Quinn leaned against the railing and asked Anderson curiously.

Anderson chuckled apologetically: “In that case, that Angel would probably think I’m dead, and the bad luck might disappear.”

“Oh…”

Quinn nodded with some regret. His idea of a “Bad Luck Golem” was probably difficult to achieve.

Anderson secretly wiped the sweat from his face, no longer daring to be insolent.

After a while, Quinn, who was watching the waves, suddenly frowned: “What’s going on? I seem to sense Frank’s bacteria on this ship? The whole ship has it!”

Quinn bent down and stomped on the deck, wondering if he was mistaken. Anderson didn’t understand at all and subconsciously stomped his foot too.

With an abnormal tremor, two streams of milky white fountains suddenly erupted from the deck, spraying all over Quinn and Anderson’s heads and faces.

“Holy sh*t!!”

Quinn subconsciously licked the milky white liquid near his mouth, showing a surprised expression: “The ‘Future’ is producing milk!”

Anderson stared blankly at the milky white fountains, forgetting to even wipe his clothes. He now suspected he had been pulled into a dream again.

However, this insane scene did not last long. Streaks of blue-green vines spread everywhere, frantically absorbing the milk and Frank’s bacteria on the ship.

Soon, the “Future” turned into a jungle on the sea.

From the other side came Frank’s startled voice: “It’s solved!”

“Ah…”

Quinn was a little regretful. He unenthusiastically stomped on the deck again, but no milk fountain reappeared.

“Hmm?”

An inexplicable disturbance appeared within Quinn’s range of life perception. This meant the matter was not over yet.

An inexplicable sensation swept through Quinn’s mind. This aura was extremely familiar to him: it was the Mother Goddess’s aura!

Is this an ancient ruin left over from the War of the Gods… Quinn was pondering the reason for the abnormality when a new change came.

“Aahhh!!”

On the deck, a pirate with a large watermelon on his head ran past. A blue-green vine connected the watermelon to his head.

This… Quinn’s gaze narrowed. He decided to first meet up with Gehrman and Frank. A premonition that the main event was about to begin grew stronger and stronger.

Quinn rushed toward the other side of the deck. As he passed the pirate, he left a message: “Wait for your Captain to solve the problem. Don’t open the watermelon if you don’t want to die.”

The panicked pirate heard this, quieted down, and immediately hugged the watermelon on his head, fearing any damage.

“This is truly insane…”

Anderson glanced at the watermelon on the pirate’s head and subconsciously touched his own head.

The vines grown by Frank gradually became active, consciously swaying and attacking the pirates on the ship. More vines grew as a result.

“Frank!” Passing through the panicked crowd, Quinn, dressed in a clean white bishop’s robe, quickly saw the figures of Frank and Gehrman. He quickly shouted to him: “Do not use any Beyonder abilities! The residual aura of the Mother Goddess is influencing this place!”

“Huh?”

Frank was reaching for the spell materials in the secret compartment of his belt. Hearing this, he quickly withdrew his hand.

Then, under Quinn’s speechless gaze, he dropped to his knees with a thud, holding his hands as if embracing an infant.

“Loving Mother!”

Frank knelt on the ground, continuously kissing the vines at his feet.

This guy… loses his head as soon as he hears ‘Mother Goddess.’ Quinn thought helplessly in his heart.

Inside the “Future’s” Captain’s cabin, Cattleya finally took action. A mass of colorless flame landed on the vines and quickly spread.

In the blink of an eye, the mutated vines spread throughout the ship were burned to ashes. It seemed the crisis had been averted. But Quinn’s premonition did not diminish; instead, it intensified.

Just at this moment, a huge palm suddenly stretched out from beneath the sea level and slapped the side of the “Future.”

The palm had extremely long fingers, nearly half a meter long, and was an overall gray-black color, like a desolate plain!

“Holy sh*t, Anderson, you are truly amazing!”

Seeing the successive events, Quinn couldn’t help but exclaim.

Anderson flinched all over. He felt Gehrman Sparrow’s chilling gaze directed at him.

The gray-black colossal palm grabbed the side of the ship and rapidly climbed up, pulling the part beneath the sea surface out inch by inch.

Between the blue waves, a large gray-black shadow first appeared, which was then entirely filled with wriggling lumps of flesh.

The monster seemed to be haphazardly cobbled together from countless gray and black corpses. Behind the two huge palms were withered, dried-out arms. The arms originated from a corpse suspected to be that of a giant.

The giant’s single eye was tightly closed, and several other heads were attached to its neck.

Those heads, in turn, extended into scaly fish bodies, lizard-like remnants, and twisted human corpses, layer upon layer, constructing a floating, island-like mass of flesh.

From the different corpses and from the seams where they were joined, plumes of yellowish-green gas permeated, spreading outward, seemingly intending to envelop the area.

Cough! Cough cough cough!

Just smelling a bit of the odor, many sailors on the deck started coughing violently, almost unable to straighten up.

“I’ll deal with this monster. You guys go look after the ordinary sailors first.”

The giant’s poison gas was gradually spreading on the “Future.”

If not resolved soon, more and more sailors would lose their lives, which was not something a bishop of the Mother Goddess of Earth was willing to see.

Quinn sighed. He did not use his inherent abilities; he just gently tapped the cloth-wrapped long staff in his hand.

Clang! Layers of white cloth strips collapsed and scattered. A scythe blade nearly a meter long sprang out, revealing the mottled and complex, cold pattern engraved on it.

“Cradle”! This was the name of this great scythe.

“Huo!” Anderson exclaimed, silently putting the pitch-black short sword he had just taken out back into his pocket.

It was no longer necessary for him to take action.

Pitch-black flames burned silently, encircling Quinn and the putrid giant, forming a thin, hard-to-destroy barrier that separated the toxic fog from the crew members.

The sanity in Quinn’s eyes diminished bit by bit, and the madness increased step by step. A cold, faint light glowed on the great scythe, and Quinn charged toward the rotten giant.

This was the ability of “Cradle”: to construct a one-on-one space between the user and the chosen target for an inescapable duel. In this life-and-death battle, successfully inflicting damage on the enemy grants a buff, and taking more damage leads to a debuff, until a winner is determined.

At the same time, “Cradle” grants the user extremely strong physical stats and allows the damaged enemy to suffer both physical and mental damage, increasing the probability of losing control.

The negative effect is that using it drastically reduces sanity. Quinn would fall into a time-unspecified frenzy. This duration could be a few tens of seconds, or several days.

“I’ll use this to cut off your head!”

Quinn rushed toward the railing in a few steps and leaped up. Anderson blinked, and Quinn appeared on one of the giant’s heads, raising the great scythe high with both hands.

The decaying giant could not escape for a time, frantically spitting out yellowish-green toxic fog. The island-like lumps of flesh writhed, and withered arms covered in mucus reached out toward Quinn.

“Hahaha!” Quinn’s hand rose and the blade fell, cleanly cutting off a huge head composed of the bodies of twisted creatures, causing the island-like mass of flesh to let out an indescribable shriek.

Even without using his most skilled Beyonder ability, Quinn’s inherent physical stats were sufficient to bludgeon this lump of flesh to death.

On the other side, Gehrman and Frank quickly dragged the collapsed crew members to an area free of toxic fog.

“What else do we need to do?”

Anderson glanced at Quinn, who was rapidly dismembering the gray-black wriggling lump of flesh, then looked at Gehrman Sparrow.

Gehrman did not speak but turned to look toward the distant sea.

Just as the crucial moment was about to arrive, a ship sailed toward them on the ocean ahead.

It was also a sailboat, equally huge, predominantly black and gloomy in color, with a faint, ominous green hue.

A blossoming, pitch-black tulip was painted on its pale main sail.

This was “Admiral of Hell” Ludwell’s flagship, the “Black Tulip”!