The radiance of the Ether was like a torrent forged of light, its dazzling brilliance instantly robbing everyone of their sight, as if a blazing sun had risen on flat ground, casting its light upon the night, a bizarre phenomenon observable from kilometers away.

To rescue Brow, this was Ferguson's all-out attack, pouring in all his Ether, along with the most lethal Alchemy Warhead.

The two had been partners for years and had faced situations where opponents found Brow's true form, but this also meant Ferguson could shoot the opponent at close range through the Shadow Gate.

Opportunity and danger coexist.

Ferguson stared at the glowing Shadow Gate before him, the twisted sensation of pain gradually transforming into pleasure, which was then consumed by a void, turning into an infinite Ether filling his being.

Protection·Chaotic Joy.

From the Collector's protection, it converts all intense emotions of the Contractor into Ether, and among all human emotions, pain is undoubtedly the easiest to obtain, as long as one cuts themselves.

Ferguson's expression trembled, he stripped off the skin of his entire arm, revealing the crimson muscle tissue beneath, but this wasn't the end, he pressed the exposed wound tightly against his coarse clothes, slowly moving his arm.

This action was akin to grinding flesh with sandpaper, Ferguson took deep breaths repeatedly, his complexion turning pale, fortunately, the pain didn't last too long, the sensation was gradually transforming into pleasure.

Ferguson sometimes wondered whether this was the Collector's compassion or a curse.

After triggering the protection multiple times, an indescribable pleasure would emerge from intense pain, so much so that whenever pain arose, there'd be a powerful pleasure easing the nerves like a sedative.

But the cost is, such pleasure doesn't last long, as the number of times the protection is triggered increases, one's threshold continuously rises, simple pain can no longer extract sufficient Ether from the Collector, she needs more intense emotions, sharper pain.

The retreat of pleasure gradually became faster, and the pleasure weakened, slowly consumed by an inner void, until this sense of emptiness spreads into the Contractor's normal state.

Mockery from the Devil, a taunt of destiny.

The greedy are never satisfied, the hungry never sated, the wrathful never find peace.

The desirer never feels full.

Thinking of this, the old Ferguson would shed tears of sorrow, but now he couldn't feel the emotion of sadness at all, compared to the pain, such emotions were too weak.

Taking up the Alchemy Potion, Ferguson injected it into his arm, accelerating the healing of his injuries.

This was an unstoppable snowball act, from the moment Ferguson first sought power from the Collector, this curse had entwined his soul.

Ferguson was addicted to battle, hunting one target after another, not because he loved slaughter, but because only when soaked in blood could he feel the beat of his heart, the surge of emotions.

In daily life, Ferguson had lost most of his emotions, unable to feel anything, joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness had become unfamiliar terms to him.

Only when gambling with the Death God could Ferguson feel truly alive, and to defeat the Death God, he once again sought the Collector's power, trapped in a sorrowful cycle.

At least Ferguson had not become completely numb, his mind still fluctuated.

Ferguson had seen those truly pitiful souls, having sacrificed all emotions, and even when their bodies were pierced full of sharp rivets, immersed in boiling oil, they could not feel the slightest sensation, leaving only an eternal and maddening void.

Many such numb individuals existed within the Zongge Orchestra, in their attempts to please the Collector, they were the true lunatics, using any means, chasing the Collector's will, to exchange for weak joy, or perish on the path and enjoy eternal peace.

Death, what a merciful term.

"Ha..."

Ferguson's pupils flooded with blood, for the Alchemy Potion contained not only healing agents for flesh but also a portion of nerve toxin, which, upon injection, stimulated the nerves, bringing a pain akin to a blade twisting.

And then came the resurgence of power.

With simple treatment, Ferguson's Ether returned to peak levels, he drew six sharp Blades from his waist, their design peculiar; they had only blade bodies, without hilts, lacking any gripping design.

Driven by Ferguson's Secret Energy, the six Blades floated around him, indeed, these Blades required no grip.

Pleasure receded, pain numbed, Ferguson's expression turned stern, his heart an utter void, as if it had collapsed into a pit that swallowed all things, seeking to drag every aspect of his mind into an endless darkness.

The Collector's power was like an addictive potion, the more painful, the more pleasurable, the more powerful, the deeper the fall...

"Don't lose, Brow."

Ferguson murmured, fixating on the writhing small Shadow Gate ahead, waiting for the moment it fully opened, Ferguson had prepared, to escape the torment of emptiness, choosing a fight to the death.

...

Bologue admitted, Ferguson and Brow were indeed longtime partners in combat, their coordination in Secret Energy was even better than his with that unfortunate Palmer.

Then Bologue began to ponder, was there really any kind of coordination between him and Palmer.

Just as Bologue was about to severely wound Brow, the tiny Shadow Gate opened by Brow had an effect. It wasn't large enough to bring Ferguson to the battlefield, but it was enough to allow a deadly alchemy warhead to travel through.

Ferguson enveloped himself in excruciating pain to exchange for that immense amount of Ether, amplifying it through the Silent Fang and channeling it all into the alchemy warhead, firing off this deadly shot.

Even a Negative Power User, when hit by this strike, would be instantly pierced through, turning into a cold corpse.

Bologue had very little time to react; this alchemy warhead could be considered fired at close range. Before the torrent of bright light engulfed Bologue, the Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid spread across his body.

This time Bologue chose to enclose himself, layer upon layer of Scale Armor, encasing himself within an Iron Coffin.

The alchemy warhead hit the Scale Armor, and a tidal wave of Ether burst forth, the violent torrent spreading with the shockwave, shattering everything in its path.

This wasn't a sniping shot; it was more like an all-out artillery barrage.

The two Dark Erosion Beasts intertwined in front of Brow, resisting the roaring Ether. Although Brow wasn't directly in the path of the impact, the aftershocks still tore at his body... then brought waves of Ether filling his body.

As long as they aren't killed, the Contractors of the Collector can draw endless Ether from pain.

Amidst the dazzling stream of light, Brow laughed heartily, even though his laughter was easily drowned out by the deafening roar.

Brow knew the Collector was watching this scene; she liked such films, films starring Bologue Lazarus.

As long as they can capture Bologue and offer him to the Collector, he and Ferguson can board that never-ending train, reaching that eternal paradise.

By then, Brow's heart will no longer be empty; unimaginable satisfaction will fill his heart.

The stream of light gathered by the Ether easily pierced through Bologue's Iron Coffin, advancing at high speed through the night, like a fireworks display stretching across, reflecting on every inch of glass between the buildings.

The strong light under the night sky reflected phenomena akin to auroras, followed closely by howling gales. Wherever the stream of light passed, furious gusts easily swept up the street debris, broken glass turning into Invisible Blades, cutting through startled crowds, triggering a chain of panic.

The street descended into chaos, sirens, screams, cries of despair, countless sounds mingling together, joining this insane concerto of the night.

The intense light in front of him dissipated, just as Brow had thought. The alchemy warhead penetrated the Iron Coffin Bologue had created, revealing the oozing blood among the collapsing metal.

The ground shattered, then collapsed, the crumbling bricks burying the broken Iron Coffin, forming a huge crater in front of Brow. Looking through the crater, one could see the dim lower level.

"We won! Ferguson!"

Brow exclaimed joyfully, channeling more Ether, the young Dark Erosion Beast gradually growing stronger, along with the Shadow Gate on its head gradually expanding, barely allowing a glimpse of Ferguson behind the door.

Ferguson raised the Silent Fang, loading an anesthetic bullet, "Don't let your guard down. He's an Undead."

The Shadow Gate expanded to a size of dozens of centimeters, barely allowing Ferguson to reach halfway through, but he didn't. Instead, he waited for the Shadow Gate to fully open. If attacked during passage, the splitting path would slice his body in half.

Brow cautiously moved forward, Dark Erosion Beasts orbiting around him. Amidst the ruins, he saw Bologue's arm, crushed under the rubble, motionless.

Ferguson aimed through the Shadow Gate at the arm, ready to pull the trigger at any moment, while Brow commanded the Dark Erosion Beast to carefully inspect ahead.

But just as the Dark Erosion Beast drew within a few meters of the arm, cracks covered Bologue's arm, then crumbled into dust like rotted sand.

In an instant, the azure Flame of the Cauldron engulfed the ruins, with Brow in the midst of the raging sea of fire.

The scattered Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid was summoned, twisting and writhing, transforming into sharp, slender silver needles that, in the blink of an eye, crisscrossed to pierce through the body of the Dark Erosion Beast, also piercing Brow behind the Beast.

"The more painful, the stronger? What kind of damned fetish is that?"

An eerie, sinister voice arose from behind Brow, a pair of eyes like ghostly flames appeared, as if an Evil Spirit had come from the World of the Dead.

In a static state, Bologue had great confidence in his own Ethereal Concealment. Ferguson's shot was indeed powerful, killing Bologue in one hit, but what they didn't know was that Bologue's first death often resulted in swift resurrection.

The wound on his abdomen had healed, and the severed left arm cut off to disguise his whereabouts was now beginning to regenerate as well, pale bones twisting into place, muscle tissue and blood filling in one by one.

He swung the heavy Hand Axe, the cold metal ferociously cleaving into Brow's back, the emotion of fear turning into Ether, further strengthening the Dark Erosion Beasts. But before they could launch an attack, Bologue brutally pulled out the Hand Axe, swinging it down once more.

Brow's eyes widened, his vision plunging into chaos, and when the scene in front of him stabilized, he saw a headless corpse standing not far away. Behind the corpse, the Azure Evil Spirit hurled the Hand Axe at the collapsing Shadow Gate, attempting to strike Ferguson behind the door.

Death came suddenly, yet seemed expected.

Brow's gaze grew vacant, then he opened his mouth, silently laughing madly, grateful for Death God's grace, freeing him from endless emptiness.

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