He, or rather, was already It.
Its head hung low, its hair obscuring its face. Only the outline of its chin was visible. Its limbs dangled limply, its joints bent outward, its fingers and toes curled in a strange fashion.
It was as though it hadn't yet adapted to this new shell.
But it learned quickly. It needed only a few breaths to master a body.
A few seconds later, it controlled this temporary body and slowly raised its head.
A face utterly unlike the one it had worn in life emerged from behind its hair. Its skin was as pale as paper, and the galactic patterns beneath it glimmered faintly. Its eyes opened, their irises a pure, dark red, with nebulae swirling in their depths—just like Aiven's.
This body no longer needed to breathe. Its chest didn't rise or fall at all.
It simply "looked" ahead.
Its mere presence was the source of the corruption. The priests' faith could no longer protect them. Amid their ceaseless prayers, some were silently twisted and began praising the Old God without even realizing it.
And the direction it looked in was where Yu Xing stood.
The instant its gaze fell upon Yu Xing, pure madness, blasphemy, and chaos slammed into the depths of his consciousness like a sledgehammer.
Even though Yu Xing had prepared himself for the intensity of an Old God's corruption and was confident he could withstand it, his breath still stopped for a moment.
Black mist roiled violently around him, trying to shield him from the corruption. But this time, the impact was too direct. It would take time for him to adapt.
The scene before Yu Xing began to warp.
The fleshy walls of the attic melted and reformed into the cold tiles of the laboratory from the