Chapter 11639 — The Puppet of the Gods Works, After All

Put simply, for the Puppet of the Gods to take effect, one must cast continuously upon the target.

The stronger the target, the longer the casting must be sustained.

At the level of a quasi-god, the casting time required is so exacting that one need not think twice to know it must be absurdly long.

Wei Zhao roughly estimated it at two hours at the very least.

To hold a quasi-god in thrall for a full two hours—is that something an ordinary person could do?

One might as well send a true god to handle it directly.

The paradox is that if a true god really did appear, the puppet would become useless instead.

In this respect, the Puppet of the Gods could be called rather worthless.

Or rather, controlling a quasi-god is merely the theoretical ceiling of its design; its primary purpose was never the domination of quasi-gods.

Users as blunt and straightforward as Wei Zhao—who genuinely take it and use it against a quasi-god—are exceedingly rare.

But then again, even Wei Zhao could never possibly hold Yi Liuchao in thrall for two hours, unless he captured the man and dragged him into the new world.

That move, however, carried enormous risk; a single misstep might expose the new world, and unless absolutely forced to, Wei Zhao would not take such a step.

Thus the difficulty naturally grew even greater.

The good news was that Wei Zhao could use the Will of the World to disguise its power; otherwise, given Yi Liuchao's sensitivity to the aura of the gods, the instant he brought out the Puppet of the Gods, he would have been detected.

And so came the maneuver just now.

Seizing upon the other's constant rewinding, Wei Zhao quietly activated the Puppet of the Gods, and with the aid of the Will of the World, stealthily invaded his primordial spirit.

Throughout the entire process, Wei Zhao was incomparably careful, betraying not the slightest flaw.

It was a pity that, in the end, he still could not completely evade Yi Liuchao's perception.

There was no help for it—not that Wei Zhao's execution was lacking; the man was, after all, a quasi-god, not some being who would let you do as you pleased simply because you showed no flaw.

At the bottom of it, the other party was the one holding the initiative.

Wei Zhao examined the Puppet of the Gods and finally concluded that the progress of the assault stood at sixty percent.

Thanks to the peculiar nature of the Will of the World, the next time he encountered Yi Liuchao, he could continue loading from this save point.

Of course, Yi Liuchao was no fool either.

Should the man detect it midway, all their effort would have been for nothing.

Still, on the other hand, at the level of a quasi-god, seeing through the disguise of the Will of the World was no easy feat—unless a true god stepped in to lend a hand.

All the same, though he had failed to take Yi Liuchao down in one sweep today, he had frightened the man off with a bluff and, as a bonus, banked a save file sitting at sixty percent progress—by Wei Zhao's reckoning, that already counted as a resounding victory.

The moment Yi Liuchao departed, the old monsters who had been stirring so restlessly a moment before fell utterly silent.

After all, no one knew what had actually happened.

In their eyes, Wei Zhao's image abruptly took on an unfathomable depth.

They did not know why Yi Liuchao had suddenly retreated, but they could more or less see that Wei Zhao must have had a hand in it.

Until they had sounded out Wei Zhao's true depths, at least, they dared not make any rash move.

What if they kicked an iron plate?

After waiting a moment, Wei Zhao puckered his lips toward the Queen. "Shall we continue?"

The Queen blanked for an instant. "Continue what?"

Wei Zhao pointed at his own eyes. "Look into my eyes."

"......"

The Queen squeezed out a smile uglier than a sob. "Young Master Lin jests."

With Yi Liuchao no longer propping her up from behind, and her own divine beauty wholly useless against Wei Zhao, she would have had to be a fool not to know she had kicked an iron plate.

Besides, she was merely narcissistic—not truly foolish.

But the very next second, her scalp went numb and her heart was suddenly hollow and empty, as though she had lost something, and yet it seemed that nothing had changed at all.

Just then, Cheng Shuang'er lowered her long saber with a strange look on her face.

The Queen's heart eased.

That the other side was willing to let her off at such a moment—the scene might be a little ugly, but being able to climb down off the tiger's back was no bad thing for her in the end.

Only, under Cheng Shuang'er's peculiar gaze, the Queen instinctively felt a chill crawl through her heart.

"Queen! Queen!"

The Zhou Son of Heaven came charging in, panic written all over his face, and the instant he laid eyes on Wei Zhao blocking his way, his expression turned feverish and savage.

"Wei Zhao, what have you done with Our Queen? We shall say this plainly here and now: if you dare harm a single hair of the Queen's head, We shall be at death's enmity with you forever!"

At that, Wei Zhao bared his teeth in a grin and tossed back a mocking line: "Your Majesty's courage is truly commendable."

The Zhou Son of Heaven, not understanding in the least, anxiously cast about on his own, searching for the Queen's figure.

Yet his gaze rested on the Queen for barely a second before sliding away again as he went on searching left and right.

The Queen said sweetly, "Your Majesty, you have finally come. Your handmaiden was so frightened."

The Zhou Son of Heaven blinked. "Who are you? Why are you wearing the Queen's robes?"

The Queen batted her eyes. "Whatever does Your Majesty mean? I am your Queen. Can Your Majesty truly fail to recognize even me?"

"You are the Queen?"

The Zhou Son of Heaven's gaze turned sharp all at once. "Who taught you to say such things? Why do you impersonate my Queen?"

This time it was the Queen's turn to be dumbfounded.

The Zhou Son of Heaven had always been her most devoted lapdog; a single glance from her could play him between her palms. What in the world was happening now?

The Zhou Son of Heaven seemed to realize something, and in an instant grew agitated; he strode forward and seized the Queen by the throat. "Who are you? Where have you taken my Queen?"

The Queen was caught off guard, and for a moment even forgot to struggle.

What unfolded before her eyes had gone wholly beyond her understanding.

Then Wei Zhao said quietly, "Your Majesty, is it not possible that she is the very Queen you hold so dear?"

"Rubbish!"

The Zhou Son of Heaven flew into a rage. "My Queen is beautiful as an immortal, a true goddess descended to the mortal world. How could this ugly woman be my Queen? She cannot compare to a single strand of the Queen's hair. To mention her in the same breath as the Queen is the gravest blasphemy against her!"

The Queen was struck as if by lightning.

Dull as her wits might be, she was finally beginning to grasp something.

Cheng Shuang'er obligingly brought over a dressing mirror. Staring at herself in the glass, the Queen froze for a moment, then abruptly let out a shriek so shrill it pierced the scalp.

For no other reason than this: the greatest reliance she had ever possessed—her divine beauty—was gone.

What she now saw in the mirror was her truest self.

"It is not me! This is not me! I do not look like this!"

This time it was the Zhou Son of Heaven's turn to be dumbfounded.

Looking at the mad woman before him, he too finally, belatedly, realized that something was very wrong.

The Zhou Son of Heaven turned in shock to look at Grand Preceptor Hou Chuang, who had entered together with him, his voice trembling slightly.

"She is my Queen?"