434 Utilizing the Special Environment
In a dim tunnel supported by stone pillars, Franca, indifferent to the presence of carbide lamps, turned to Lumian and expressed her concern.

“Are you absolutely sure there won’t be any issues with using that heart to advance? Even if you don’t appear afraid of the Sauron family’s curse, it could still affect your condition after consuming the potion and potentially lead to failure. Honestly, Gardner’s proposal is worth considering. Consuming an additional Sequence 9 to Sequence 7 potion will make you stronger, but not by much. There won’t be any qualitative changes, so it’s better to take a safer route.”

The Demoness of Pleasure had already learned about Lumian’s experiences in Red Swan Castle’s underground maze and most of the information from Madam Magician’s letter.

While she was awed by the special soldiers’ existence and the frenzied cries of the uncontrollable angel, she couldn’t help but be concerned about Lumian’s plan to use the Beyonder characteristic of the wax statue artisan and the shriveled heart of the mutated black spider to concoct the potion.

Lumian, holding a carbide lamp, chuckled.

“I’m doing it because I’m more than confident.”

Franca remained skeptical. “Do you have a method to negate the influence of the heart’s remaining bloodline?”

At this point, it was as if she snapped out of her reverie.

“Where are we headed? Aren’t you going to drink the potion? Just find a quiet spot. There’s no need to keep wandering underground, right?”

Lumian chuckled.

“It’s precisely because the destination is special that I believe I can minimize the influence of the Sauron family’s residual bloodline in the heart.”

Simultaneously, it would reduce the risk of the corruption in his body during the advancement!

Franca’s curiosity was piqued. “Where are we going?”

Lumian replied with a smile, “You’ll find out when we get there.”

“Dammit! I hate people like you who leave sentences hanging!” Franca couldn’t resist cursing.

…

After more than half an hour, Franca pointed ahead to a naturally formed and modified stone door cave, her expression a mix of surprise and realization. She asked, “Is this the destination you were talking about?”

The entrance was marked with numerous engravings of skulls, skeletal arms, sunflowers, and symbols related to steam.

This marked the entrance to the catacombs, leading to the Death Empire!

“Somewhere inside,” Lumian replied. He retrieved a white candle from the satchel containing the Flog boxing gloves and tossed it to Franca. With a smile, he added, “I want to consume the potion under the watchful eyes of God.”

“Under the gaze of God?” Franca eyed Lumian suspiciously, wondering if he had succumbed to the peculiar habits of an Astrologer.

He didn’t seem to be speaking in a straightforward manner!

Lumian chose not to elaborate. Instead, he lit a white candle and ventured into the catacombs.

As usual, the administrators challenged them, and they made their assurances. The two eventually reached the third level of the catacombs, where they encountered a sacrificial pillar composed of two weathered boulders, surrounded by a small square.

Upon entering this remarkably clean area, Franca had an epiphany.

“Are you trying to exploit the uniqueness of this place?”

She had previously explored the catacombs but hadn’t ventured deep into the third level. Lumian had only mentioned that there was a square here with two sacrificial pillars symbolizing the Eternal Blazing Sun and the God of Steam and Machinery.

Under the protection of these two pillars, even if the candle flames in their hands were extinguished, the individuals in the square wouldn’t be plunged into darkness, and there wouldn’t be any trace of their presence erased.

“Yes.” Lumian smiled.

He handed the white candle to Franca and approached the mottled pillar adorned with symbols like the Sun Sacred Emblem, sunflowers, and radiating lines. He extended his arms reverently and offered a sincere prayer.

“Praise the Sun!”

His plan was to utilize the catacombs’ uniqueness and the protective power of the sacrificial square to suppress the influence of the Sauron family’s residual bloodline and the corruption of Inevitability within his body.

From his experiences, a substantial part of these influences stemmed from external sources and the outside world. For instance, the sealed Vermonda Sauron deep within the underground palace and the power of Inevitability beyond the barrier.

Without these external influences, all that would remain was the corruption within his body. Lumian had endured this during his previous three advancements and believed it was manageable. This was because the external support this corruption received would be weakened by the catacombs’ uniqueness and the protection of the sacrificial pillars.

The initial idea for this plan had been inspired by the creation of the Beyonder accessory, Beatrice’s Necklace. Madam Magician had mentioned that specific environments could sever connections and prevent the power of a boon from returning to its source, such as the area around the Samaritan Women’s Spring.

Lumian believed that although the sacrificial square in the catacombs might not be as special as the area around the Samaritan Women’s Spring, it wouldn’t be too far off. After considering the catacombs’ peculiarity and the protection of the Eternal Blazing Sun sacrificial pillar, the external influence would undoubtedly be significantly reduced.
Furthermore, the sanctity of the sacrificial square stemmed from the protection of orthodox gods. Lumian didn’t need to worry about any backlash from consuming the potion to advance here.

Franca watched in momentary surprise as Lumian genuinely praised the Sun.

He was truly under the “watchful eye” of a deity!

But isn’t he afraid of being directly purged as a follower of Mr. Fool?

After the prayer, Lumian returned to Franca and handed her an exquisite perfume bottle.

“What’s this?” Franca inquired, puzzled.

“Gray amber perfume,” Lumian explained with a flicker of emotion in his eyes under the candlelight. “After I consume the potion, watch my reaction closely. If you sense anything amiss, unscrew the cap and bring the bottle to my nose.”

Initially, he would have done this himself, but this time, given the influence of the Sauron family’s residual bloodline and his status as a Mid-Sequence Beyonder, he was concerned that the situation might worsen. He might not have the strength to open the perfume bottle. Additionally, if he had used it from the beginning, his subconscious might remember that he had created it, potentially negating the intended effect.

“Alright.” Seeing that Lumian had no intention of explaining, Franca suppressed her curiosity and refrained from inquiring.

Lumian glanced at the broad stone steps leading to the catacombs’ second level and added,

“One more thing, you need to ensure that the tourists don’t disturb me.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Franca rolled her eyes.

Did you really need to ask?

Without further delay, Lumian retrieved a beer mug with a crystal-like appearance from his satchel.

Using a measuring cylinder, he began the process. First, he poured a total of 80 milliliters of the wax statue artisan’s dark-red blood into the mug. Then, he added the mutated black spider’s poison gland, 10 grams of amber powder, and two white oak fruits he had collected over a month ago.

These ingredients, infused with potent spirituality and corresponding symbols, didn’t dissolve instantly; instead, they created a dark foam on the surface.

Lumian gently submerged the blood-colored object that resembled a shrunken human brain and the withered, black heart into the mixture.

With a sizzling sound, a crimson-tinged mist diffused and then receded. All the solid ingredients rapidly disintegrated and merged, causing the potion’s color to intensify.

Bubbles rose and burst until the liquid inside the beer mug turned an iron-black hue, with a tinge of reddish rust.

Observing this transformation, Franca mumbled softly, “Indeed, one’s heart is tainted when one employs battle strategies. Even the potion is tainted…”

Contemplating the dark, blood-colored concoction, Lumian removed his satchel and military flask, setting them aside.

After handing Lie to Franca, he took a slow, deliberate breath and composed himself.

After 20 to 30 seconds, he sat cross-legged, his wrist steady as he picked up the beer mug and drank the potion without hesitation.

The potion had a strong rusty taste, cold like a serpent slithering in the darkness, slippery and icy.

However, Lumian’s body didn’t burn as it had before. Instead, he felt a chilling sensation, as if all the flames had been absorbed by the potion.

Simultaneously, his head throbbed with a familiar pain, and his vision quickly blurred. All the thoughts and information he knew materialized, intertwining in the form of miniature pictures, forming layers of interconnected spiderwebs.

This tore Lumian’s mind apart. Terrifying ravings, seemingly emanating from an infinite distance while simultaneously echoing in his ears, were accompanied by violent and frenzied emotions.

Yet, the pain from the former didn’t render Lumian nearly unconscious. He instinctively rolled, his expression involuntarily contorted with malevolence. His hands clenched tightly, and he couldn’t help but groan in pain. The latter was within the tolerance of an Alms Monk.

Lumian’s right palm felt a slight warmth from the stimulation.

Finally, the inferno reached him. This time, it converged within Lumian’s mind, unreal and illusory.

Franca, who had been watching closely, wanted to open the perfume bottle several times, but each time she thought about it, Lumian returned to normal.

The entire ordeal lasted only 20 to 30 seconds. Lumian’s clenched hands slowly relaxed, and his contorted facial muscles gradually returned to their original positions.

Phew… Lumian exhaled a scorching breath and opened his eyes.

“Did it work?” Franca asked subconsciously.

Lumian, experiencing sharp pain in his head and body, responded with a wry smile, “If it hadn’t worked, you would’ve already started fighting the out-of-control me.”

This had been even easier than his previous three advancements.

“Who knows if a Conspirer’s loss of control is an act of pretending to be a normal person and secretly attacking me…” Franca couldn’t help but argue, even though she knew she had spoken out of turn.

Lumian raised his hand to rub his temples. Despite the pain, his thoughts seemed clearer than ever.

He quickly recalled the events that had occurred and sensed that some of the details might be problematic.

This was something he hadn’t noticed before.

For instance, according to his nightmares, Iraeta, the poet who frequently participated in King’s Pie games, should have transformed into a half-wax statue, gone insane, harmed himself or those around him at any moment. Yet, not only was he unscathed, but he had also entered the problematic Sacred Heart Cloister and coincidentally encountered Albus Medici!