Nyarlathotep had apparently never expected his attempt to communicate with Zhang Heng to fail.
This was extremely rare in his history of dealing with humans. What was more, Nyarlathotep had already analyzed all the stakes involved. Based on what he knew of the young man outside, there was no reason Zhang Heng should have refused his help.
Nyarlathotep suddenly realized that he could no longer understand what Zhang Heng was thinking. He did not know whether this was a consequence of Zhang Heng losing his emotions, or whether the master of the Underground City had begun to influence him. Neither possibility was good news for him.
Nyarlathotep lowered his head again and glanced at his severed third leg. In only a short while, a new section of bone had already protruded from the mangled wound, and the flesh around it was steadily healing as well. It was only rather tiny and miniature. At this rate, his third leg would regrow within another quarter of an hour, though he had no idea how long it would take to return to its original form. Besides that, there was still a massive hole in his head blasted out by a high-explosive round.
That was also why he was not particularly eager to fight the young man in the yard.
In truth, his followers had also been growing at a rapid pace in recent years. Though he could not compare to the master of the Underground City, he had long since surpassed many ancient gods. Yet his most effective soul and illusion attacks were almost useless against Zhang Heng, who had already lost his emotions. Zhang Heng simply would not be troubled by negative feelings.
That old bastard Kronos had played a good hand as well. He had given Zhang Heng an extra twenty-four