Exorcist's Self-Cultivation

Chapter 741: 719, huge spoiler alert.

The ritual of the Vanity Sect cannot be stopped once it has begun.

Thirteen individuals will inevitably become one entity.

And this entity will be dominated by the will of Alfaria.

In a sense,

the thirteen have become a new Alfaria.

Their power, will, memory, and abilities, all unified and gathered into one “person.”

The ritual is still underway.

Lord Ferran is struggling immensely right now.

His will is resisting.

He is not willing to let the Vanity Sect succeed so easily.

He became an undercover agent for the Church,

but he never imagined that sudden changes in the world would prompt Alfaria’s plans to advance, completely upsetting Lord Ferran’s own pace.

But…

The significance of his resistance is not great.

A voice echoed in Lord Ferran’s mind.

It sounded like the tide crashing against the shore, as well as the painful moans of a maiden’s defloration.

His will crumbled in an instant.

His body bent uncontrollably, he couldn’t rein it in; a strong sensation of rolling in his stomach, a feeling of nausea.

The scene before his eyes became blurry and unclear.

Piercing buzzing sounds filled his ears.

His heart was racing so fast that he could feel his blood flowing through his veins, causing his blood pressure to rise and his head to throb with pain.

At this moment,

Lord Ferran had lost consciousness.

There was a bizarre change occurring with the mask on his face.

The mask, with its bluish-black shade, as if forged from raw iron, was now moving slowly as if it were alive.

First, small granules appeared on the mask.

Then those granules extended tendrils that floated with the wind.

Furthermore, the mask began to bulge outwards.

As if it were about to break free.

You must understand,

once a mask of the Vanity Sect is donned, it can never be removed again.

For this mask to be detaching on its own, a heavy price must be paid.

Acquiring any sort of power is never a given.

Meanwhile,

other members of the Vanity Sect, such as Brand, Mercer, Gascogne, and others, were experiencing the same phenomena.

But unlike Lord Ferran,

these individuals were not resisting the ritual.

For them, the meaning of life is to become a more terrifying existence,

or rather, an instinctual craving for power.

Especially Mercer.

Mercer is the weakest among the Vanity Sect.

He barely has any presence.

But now, he is extremely excited.

The voice in his mind made his soul tremble.

“I feel like I’m melting,” Mercer murmured, shaking all over, his speech quivering as he said, “I’m becoming a new whole, I can feel the power, endless power, endless knowledge.”

“I’m going to become a god.”

“I’m going to dominate this era.”

All the masks worn on everyone’s faces were incessantly detaching.

There was only one person who was different.

That was Gascogne.

That eerie voice also emerged in his mind.

The mask on his face too began to show signs of living movement.

But detaching?

Out of the question.

His entire being was counterfeit, along with the fake mask as well.

Long ago, the real Gascogne had died at Du Wei’s hands, and the current one was nothing but a sham created by the power of the Golden Scales.

However, he himself was unaware.

At any time, the core essence cannot be altered; a bad person cannot suddenly become a good one.

No matter how much a fake resembles the genuine article, even if he himself believes he is real, he cannot be exactly like the original.

Gascogne was a landmine Du Wei had buried within the Vanity Sect.

And now, the time had come for the explosion.

Gascogne opened his eyes.

He looked at his companions’ transformations, then at himself, and couldn’t help but feel utterly puzzled.

“What’s going on?”

“Why do I seem different from them?”

“Is the ritual supposed to be like this?”

“Or am I the special one?”

Gascogne’s voice caught the attention of the others.

But apart from Alfaria, everyone else was beyond self-control.

“Gascogne… you…”

Alfaria’s eyes widened in disbelief, staring at Gascogne before him.

What was happening?

According to the ritual, the masks on the others’ faces should have already begun to detach, then a new body would be formed, into which their wills would be injected, giving birth to a new Alfaria.

But why was Gascogne’s mask not even budging?

Gascogne was shocked, “Alfaria, what’s happened? What’s wrong with me?”

Alfaria’s gaze was fraught with danger, “You are not Gascogne.”

“How is that possible, I am Gascogne!”

“Alfaria, could it be that there’s something wrong with the ritual?”

He was completely panicked.

Alfaria, on the other hand, was extremely angry.

“Either you are not Gascogne, or the mask on your face is fake.”

As he spoke,

Alfaria moved toward Gascogne.

But every step he took required his utmost effort.

After the ritual started, an invisible force had bound them.

At that moment,

the sky was cloudless, the air chillingly clear, cold enough to make one shudder.

All sound had vanished.

A mask had detached from someone’s face.

Black threads were entwining around it.

And it floated to Alfaria’s side.

The sense of restraint eased considerably.

But corresponding to that, another person rapidly decomposed into a skeletal remains.

The masks granted them extended lifespans, but when the masks were removed, they took away everything from them.

Gascogne desperately resisted.

Watching Alfaria, who was getting closer and closer, he tried to escape, “Stay away from me, Alfaria, calm down for a second, why don’t you consider that the ritual might have gone wrong?”

Alfaria gritted his teeth furiously.

Blood streamed from his eyes.

He had plotted for a century or two to get this ritual ready.

But he never expected a problem at this juncture.

“You truly deserve to die.”

Another mask floated to his side.

Another soul became serene.

By his side, the two suspended masks were gyrating around, the messy black threads coming together, faintly taking the shape of a hand.

And the threads continued to spread.

When they finally gathered completely, it would be time for a new vessel to be born.

Alfaria eventually reached Gascogne.

His body was on the verge of collapsing.

Amidst Gascogne’s terrified screams, under the gaze of the others, Alfaria placed his hand on Gascogne’s face.

His fingertips gripped the mask tightly.

With just a little force, the mask was torn off, bringing up a piece of flesh, followed by Gascogne’s excruciating screams.

His entire face was ripped off.

One could see the white bone underneath.

Alfaria, holding the mask, crushed it in his hand.

He could no longer contain the fury in his heart, “Ah! Ahhh! Why is it fake!!! Why!!!”

Until now, he had been harbouring illusions.

At this moment, he fully succumbed to his rage.

“Where exactly is that mask! Where exactly is it!!!!!”