Mystery: When the Fool Meets the Masked Fool

Chapter 349 The Fateful Potion Can No Longer Be Played?

As the potion entered his throat, Klein felt his spirits soar to the heavens.

He looked down at the two islands from high above.

Klein's eyes transcended time, uncontrollably performing a "divination," a "divination" akin to a "premonition of tragedy."

He saw two islands spark a war, saw people die in the war, and saw others laugh and joke about it afterward.

Klein suddenly felt an inexplicable surge of anger and a profound sense of sorrow.

It shouldn't be like this.

His spirit began to stir, to waver.

But the next second, the scene in front of him disappeared and changed.

He saw a man, a magician.

He is an artist of reminiscence, a magician of the battlefield.

He plucked the strings of memory, stealing someone's past and gifting it to another. He disrupted someone's recollections, leading them astray.

Watching those ridiculous orders being issued disrupt the pre-war rhythm.

A minor conflict did occur, but it wasn't a big deal.

He used curtains to conceal the marching path, diverting the attack elsewhere. Or he used illusions to disguise trees and rocks as debris from an explosion, misleading the enemy into reducing their forces.

He was the biggest swindler of all, using his life's tricks to ensure the army's survival.

Klein suddenly laughed.

That's right, that's correct.

His anger subsided, turning into a smile as he watched the war end comically before it even began, and the two sides shaking hands and making peace in a daze.

Klein's consciousness sank back into his body.

Klein's thoughts gradually became clearer, absorbing the "Battlefield Magician's" potion.

He took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled.

To be honest, this feeling is not pleasant. Compared to the acceptance during the promotion of "Master of Puppets", the promotion of "Battlefield Magician" is more like "enlightenment".

Those actions were guiding Klein's understanding of pleasure.

Klein suddenly realized something.

Sequence 6 is alright, but Sequence 5 of the Fate Potion probably can't be digested through acting.

What he truly needed was "insight." The name of the potion was merely a guide, a direction.

The point of Destiny Potion is not to play a role, but to forge your own path.

Next, he will use his own aesthetics of pleasure to portray the "battlefield magician," and use his own aesthetics of pleasure to interpret the "selfless clown," "ethereal ghost," "admonitory physician," "useless scholar," and even the "absurd mask."

Those who cannot forge their own path will not be able to digest the "destiny potion" after Sequence Five.

"This is really..." Klein muttered, "The good old days of just playing the part and getting by are finally over..."

Previously, the difficulty in promotion lay in the ceremony and the paperwork. Now, it seems one must actually play the role.

Thinking it over, Klein raised his hand, snapped his fingers lightly, and then released his hand from the empty bottle.

But the bottle did not fall because a small area of ​​space around it froze.

"The battlefield magician has started manipulating space," Klein thought, stroking his chin.

The ability the battlefield magician gave him was very simple.

space.

Solidification, transfer, jumping... none of these exist.

Klein only had a grasp of the space to a certain extent; how to use it was entirely up to him to figure out.

He pinched a corner of the space, flipped his fingers up and down, and "folded" the space in front of him into an ugly little cat.

Klein looked at the "kitten" in his hand. His vision was refracted through the cat's body, and although he was only looking at one side, the folds and turns caused his gaze to spread in all directions. It was somewhat like several mirrors placed together and reflecting each other.

This makes the kitten look like a colorful crystal.

It will change color if you move your hand even slightly.

"Aside from not being good-looking, she's actually quite pretty." Padmon's fair assessment.

“Coincidentally, I think so too.” Klein released his grip, and the “cat” unfolded, returning to its simple, formless state.

…………

Time returns to the present.

Inside an upscale hotel in Hillston.

Klein plans to buy a house in Queens, and will make do with a hotel for the time being until then.

His love of money doesn't mean he's a miser.

On the contrary, he is very willing to spend money, but he is afraid that he will not have enough money.

Klein put a stack of folded white handkerchiefs into his left breast pocket and took off his half-high silk hat.

Today marks the official public debut of the enigmatic billionaire Dawn Dantes.

I opened my wallet and glanced at it. It was more than enough, equivalent to six or seven years' income for an upper-middle-class person.

He certainly doesn't lack money now.

Klein will always remember the pirates' enthusiastic contributions.

Hmm, at least a year... a month... a day... hmm... how many pirates did he deal with?

Forget it, it doesn't matter.

St. Clyne Church.

Klein bypassed the sparse crowd and entered the church.

He portrayed himself as a novice believer in the Pleasure Church who, having made some money, wanted to develop his career in Backlund.

Looking at the crowds coming and going inside the church, and recalling the slum-like church when he was still there, Klein couldn't help but sigh.

The number of people increased, and there were priests, nuns, and even dedicated preaching bishops and archbishops who were not very useful.

Klein adjusted the handkerchief in his left pocket, picked up his gold-inlaid cane, and stepped into the church. He walked through the quiet corridors and, under the sunlight shining through the stained glass windows, arrived at the Great Prayer Hall.

He didn't bring Padma Cat because it didn't fit his persona.

Reaching the donation box, Klein silently exhaled, struggled with his conscience for a moment, and then took out two 10-pound notes and six 5-pound notes, dropping them into the box one by one.

The archbishop, with a mask hanging on the side of his head and black hair and eyes, looked at Klein with a half-smile.

"Don't you want to donate a little more money?" Serres asked.

“Shut up,” Klein said through gritted teeth in a low voice.

“How can you do this? You are a chosen one of the Lord.” Serres tried to use moral blackmail.

“The Lord’s teachings tell us that faith should reside in the heart and need not be expressed with money,” Klein replied, maintaining a gentle smile.

“I had no idea the Lord said that,” Serres shook his head.

“The Lord has spoken now.” Klein watched silently as the last banknote slid into the offering box, closed his eyes briefly, and turned to leave.

Before leaving, he turned back and looked at Serres with a gentle smile.

“Remember to write what you just said into the doctrine. This is the Lord’s holy word.” He used illusion to obscure the senses of others, making them mistakenly believe that this was just a normal conversation. “Especially the Lord’s followers, it should be free.”

After saying this, Klein turned and left. As he passed other clergy members, he would smile and nod.

Other clergy members would return the gesture with a warm smile, gently touching their left breast with their right hand in a gesture of respect.

He didn't look back at the little money he had lost. Calmly and nonchalantly, he stepped aside to let a believer pass, walked back to his seat along the aisle, picked up his hat and cane, and walked out of the church step by step.

(End of this chapter)