Apocalypse Forecast-Chapter 615 - 513 My Turn, Draw a Card!_1

"Name?"

"Huai Shi, male, eighteen years old, main instructor of the Classical Music Appreciation Classroom in the Ivory Tower, also serving as an Astronomical Society Inspector, the Prince of Paradise, the Disastrous Musician, the Abyss Kitchen Devil, the Legendary Investigator..."

It was as if a formidable switch had been pressed.

In front of the gate, the manager had merely asked a routine question, only for Huai Shi to grab his hand and prattle on nonstop for five minutes.

After finishing, he even looked around and asked, "Got any water? I’ll have a drink and then continue..."

"Enough, enough!"

The manager interrupted him, despondent. "It’s okay as long as the name is verified; you don’t need to recite your resume anymore."

"Traditional skills can’t be forgotten." Huai Shi wiped the spittle from his mouth, rather unwilling to stop. "I haven’t spoken so smoothly in a long time. Shall we go again?"

The manager rolled his eyes, put away Huai Shi’s approval slip, and pointed to the slowly opening gate behind him, signaling him to hurry up and scram.

Huai Shi, in an exceptionally good mood, decided not to fuss over such impolite behavior. He turned and eagerly entered the massive facility.

Behind layer upon layer of tight security lay an underground space as large as a football field.

It was as if a bridge had been built over an unfathomable abyss. It led directly to the very center of the Abyss, with boundless darkness on either side below.

He could feel the howling wind blowing out from it.

At the end of the bridge, there was only a narrow circular platform, enveloped by layer upon layer of Alchemy Matrixes.

Merely standing on the platform, continuous illusions began to appear before Huai Shi’s eyes.

It was as if countless profound Hells rushed towards him. After briefly unveiling their disguises, they filled his perception with endless flickers of firelight.

Even though the entire Miracle Imprint had not yet been activated, Huai Shi already felt a sense of distension, as if he were rapidly expanding.

Literally, expanding.

This was not an illusion.

In the deepest recesses of his soul, the tranquil Soloist’s Stigma began to operate on its own. It was eager to follow this sensation into the Abyss, to welcome the arrival of Sky’s Command.

Huai Shi gasped, feeling dizzy.

Still lacking in control.

The silence of past days wasn’t because Huai Shi was in control, but because nothing had stoked this miracle to life. Now, as it began to try and break free of its confines, Huai Shi found himself momentarily unable to stop it.

In an instant, countless phantoms stepped out of his body, going their separate ways, nearly filling the entire bridge.

Unlike in the past, the forms of those Afterimages became varied. They were no longer vague, simple outlines, but extensions of Huai Shi’s life.

There was Huai Shi in formal wear, as if preparing for a performance; Huai Shi in pajamas, picking his toes; Huai Shi fully armed, ready to explore Hell; Huai Shi holding textbooks and lecturing...

The mighty tide had covered the entire Summon Dragon Flute’s matrix, leaving the manager in the control room stupefied. This was because Soloist’s Source Fluctuation was interfering with the internal workings of the matrix. Like an overly excited, discordant note, it seized the main theme of the melody.

This was the first time in history...

"Mr. Huai Shi, please try to contain your Stigma," a reminder came through the loudspeaker in the dome. "Otherwise, the matrix startup might be interfered with, calling forth something unexpected—"

Huai Shi, obeying the instruction, took deep breaths.

It took a long, long time before the wandering Afterimages finally began to return reluctantly, one by one, merging back into his body.

But there were still discrepancies.

Now, he looked like dozens of superimposed images, exceedingly blurry. Each movement resembled a performance of the Thousand-Hand Bodhisattva, filled with a strange aura.

With his efforts to draw back, the operation of the Summon Dragon Flute finally returned to a safe threshold.

A bizarre iron chair covered in cables descended from the split ceiling right in front of Huai Shi.

When he sat down, the Source Substance flowed smoothly through the massive matrix, as if merging with the entire system.

Twinkling lights rapidly lit up. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The Resonance was about to begin.

The time for card drawing was approaching!

He couldn’t help but rub his hands together in excitement.

The current Huai Shi was essentially using his own Stigma as a frequency signature, broadcasting indiscriminately into the Abyss. This was like using a square dance loudspeaker in the dead of night to play a missing person announcement or a recruitment advertisement.

There would undoubtedly be some unexpected situations and unknown malice encountered.

Perhaps something would even fixate on him because of this.

But this was precisely the most reassuring point about the Summon Dragon Flute itself—his soul was now under the protection of the Ivory Tower.

Unless a Ruler from one of the Hells hated Huai Shi to the bone and, upon hearing the sound, immediately became impatient enough to lead an army to attack him, Huai Shi could rest easy whatever happened.

But there was one thing he hadn’t anticipated.

The moment his Source Substance signature was broadcast into the Abyss with the Summon Dragon Flute, it was like poking a hornet’s nest or tossing a string of firecrackers into a pigpen.

First, there was a silence so disturbing it made one’s skin crawl.

Then, amidst a sudden, deafening roar, countless dead Hells boiled over in an instant.

Countless crimson eyes opened in the darkness, listening to the distant flute sound. They inexplicably wanted to step out and see what was happening. Staying cooped up at home all the time isn’t good, after all—one always needs to get out and look for opportunities, right?