Middle-Aged Man

Chapter 883

The other party's dream abilities were not inferior to his own in the slightest. What Meditation Method had he cultivated? Could it be something attached to that dark Meditation Method?

That was far too terrifying.

Seeing Dole's figure relentlessly pursuing him, the man's lips curled into a faint smile. Just don't be afraid to come.

Everything in the world of mental power was illusory. Anything seen or touched could be passed through, unless it possessed magic patterns and energy effects.

In Dole's view, the man had now returned to his original appearance. He found it rather strange. The man was indeed a descendant of Nightmare, looking almost exactly like that old fellow.

There was nothing unusual about descendants resembling their grandfather, but looking practically identical was utterly absurd. Dole vaguely formed a bold conjecture.

This fellow, even if he was not being controlled, was little different from someone who was. Dole had once read a religious book. In some religions, as believers worshipped a single person in vast numbers, their own temperaments, natures, and even appearances would inexplicably change.

On one hand, the Nightmare Patriarch controlled these descendants. On the other, he was likely making them believe in him, thereby generating wisps of the power of faith.

The power of faith was a broad and vague thing. Speaking of practical uses, it did not seem to have many. Yet saying it was useless was equally wrong—what the gods fought over was precisely this thing. Had the Nightmare Patriarch researched something?

If he could make use of the power of faith, that would be terrifying. It meant the other party had reached a stage utterly beyond Dole's understanding, a realm with none before and none to come after.

He packaged these speculations and sent them to Wasen Fort.

This