Minutes ago, at the Indonesian Moisi Church.

Old Gent Lovecraft was unexpectedly invited to a rather bizarre meeting. He originally thought he was here to be blessed first, to turn into those peculiar things, and he even prepared over ten thousand countermeasures.

However, what he didn't expect was that he seemed to be part of a weird meeting discussing "how to launch a strong strike against all military bases worldwide in an instant."

Old Gent Lovecraft: "..."

What trouble did he step into, is this still the villain's headquarters?

During the meeting, everyone looked at Old Gent Lovecraft in confusion, seemingly finding him strange, but none took the initiative to kick him out of the meeting.

Until the meeting was almost over, and they had prepared several plans for a strong strike, suddenly someone rushed in frantically and said: "Sorry, Mr. Howard, we brought you to the wrong place…"

"Oh, you all carry on…" Old Gent Lovecraft got up, and raised his fist when stepping out the door.

The meeting fell into dead silence, leaving only the mystic scholars looking at each other.

Then, he truly saw the person he wanted to find, and also the one he intended to assassinate.

Blington, a renowned mystic scholar.

In the circle of mystic scholars, the influence of the Brinton Family is truly a millennium legacy.

Even for general mystic scholars, possessing a unique technique is considered a heritage, yet the patriarch monopolizes dozens of unique techniques, and with each generation, their techniques increase.

If things develop normally, in just a few decades, the family might even unify the forces of all mystic scholars above ground.

However, they chose the most unconventional path, which was to eliminate all threats through this Salem incident, then incorporate all other mystic scholars as their subordinates.

This information was acquired by Old Gent Lovecraft from mystic scholars Austin and Howard.

At this moment, this mysterious scholar, indistinguishable from a normal person, stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the scenery outside the Indonesian Moisi Church, completely uninterested in Lovecraft disguised as Howard.

"Lord Blington, I'm here to pledge my loyalty." Old Gent Lovecraft's tone changed to mimic Howard as he spoke.

"Howard, ah, sit." Across from him appeared to be an ordinary young man, giving an impression not of an elderly figure nearing a hundred, but more like a young general.

Yet, as Old Gent Lovecraft sat down, Blington laughed, looking at the mystic scholar he had been "chasing," and said: "I really didn't know how Howard acquired the 'Evil Spirit Rebirth' technique, able to summon a guest I never expected."

Old Gent Lovecraft shrugged, seemingly joking: "Looks like I've been exposed."

"I knew instantly when you first showed up, given that Howard should currently be with Austin on the coast of Boston, right?"

And at this moment, Old Gent Lovecraft stopped pretending, reverting to his form of a gray suit and white mask, holding a cane, his hollow black holes beneath the mask quietly staring at the enemy before him.

He had always been curious about what's driving this person to create the "tragedy of the Indonesian Moisi Church," even at the expense of dragging the entire world to the grave.

"Haha, a human-shaped evil spirit, possessing abilities to disguise and mimic, wearing a mask, let me guess your identity… a clown? No, a clown wouldn't possess such rationality, nor your wisdom, ah, I've got it..."

His lips curled, seemingly delighted for guessing the identity: "The embodiment of Cthulhu-inspired fear, Old Mr. Lovecraft?"

Old Gent Lovecraft remained silent, yet the identification was clearly confirmed.

"Seems I guessed right, turns out it's the infamous Old Lovecraft. Even born in the form of an evil spirit, I've long admired you." He smiled, his words seemingly genuine.

"When I was about ten, the first birthday gift I received was your 'Dunwich Horror Incident.'" He seemed to recall his childhood, suddenly with a nostalgic expression of past memories.

"Later, during university, I joined your works fan club. Back then, your works were incredibly popular; the entire university circulated them. Some even started writing after reading, contributing to the creation of the now-famous 'Cthulhu Mythos.'"

Old Gent Lovecraft felt no particular sensation.

His works skyrocketed to fame over a decade after his death, reaching unimaginable heights, yet during his life, he was destitute, struggling even to afford meals. His cause of death was closely linked to poverty, if not for friends aiding him, he might have starved to death sooner.

He was just like Van Gogh of the twentieth century. Before his death, no one cared about his works, and he couldn't even exchange them for a decent dinner. But after his death, his manuscripts and stories sold for astronomical prices, and even a century later, they became the benchmark for "horror" worldwide.

It must be said, it's a very strange thing.

It seems to be moved by the "fan" across from him, the old man of craftsmanship said: "I'm really confused right now, why did you do such a thing? To rule the world? To become a God? Or simply to create a horror incident? Your answer may determine my subsequent attitude."

"Hahaha, Mr. Lovecraft, if it were you, you'd definitely understand me. In the future, we might be kindred spirits walking on the same ideal path." Blington looked up at the sky, seemingly gazing at the stars, and said,

"Old Lovecraft, don't you think Blue Star is just too small?"

Old man of craftsmanship: "?"

"Look at us, even with all our efforts, we can't fully explore a planet, which is just a speck of sand in the ocean when compared to the entire cosmos. Humans, after all, can't even explore the Solar System in their lifetime, let alone the deeper universe. For someone like you, who writes such sci-fi horror, when you look at humanity, isn't it as insignificant as looking at ants?"

He lamented, and this lamentation even made the old man of craftsmanship pause for a moment.

"Haha, it seems I was right, indeed, you are someone who shares my ideals." He seemed to marvel at his own astounding wisdom, extended his hand to his childhood idol, and offered his invitation,

"Old Lovecraft, don't you feel humanity has really gone astray? Technology has its limits. In this short life, I understand, the more we develop technology, the further we are from our goal of exploring the universe, even going in the opposite direction, and the creatures of this planet even self-castrated their 'immortality'. By the time I realized, I was already old."

He sighed, laughing as he continued speaking to the old man of craftsmanship: "In ancient times, all life was immortal, as long as they weren't preyed upon by their enemies, they could procreate indefinitely and live eternally, but this immense power was abandoned by ancient creatures, who instead imposed lifespan limits on themselves…"

"Your era might not have researched it, but lifespans are a self-imposed restraint by later beings, the original life forms were immortal!" He looked up, behind him, ancient trees rose skyward outside the window.

"Like these ancient creatures, they didn't even have telomeres, they were in a constant state of division, which is what we call 'immortality'!"

"And as long as we can also achieve 'immortality', the exploration of the cosmos would be an easily attainable accomplishment for us!" he said, even throwing another bombshell at the old man of craftsmanship, "Old Lovecraft, you might not know, but there are aliens in the cosmos!"

"In fact, the origin of life on our planet also required help from 'an alien called the Venerable King' for it to be born, and we are the ones who have surpassed this era due to receiving alien heritage."

"So if it were you, you'd definitely understand me, with our mutual dissatisfaction with the inferiority of humanity, we both similarly disdain the insignificant and trivial humanity. Shall we explore the entire cosmos together, witnessing the various vast futures on different planets, how about it?" he extended his hand, as if inviting the old man of craftsmanship.

The old man of craftsmanship: "..."

Is this fool crazy?

When did he ever disdain humanity?

In novels, that's artistic embellishment, he writes horror stories, how can he highlight "horror" without portraying human insignificance? Should he write about how Yahweh and Zeus are running a campaign in horror stories?

Got to eat, right?

He originally thought the enemy this time might have some "grand conspiracy", but didn't expect it to just be that same old social Darwinism routine?

Everything he did, it was solely for... immortality?

The old man of craftsmanship didn't understand, shouldn't your cultural circle consider immortality as a curse? Isn't the fascination with immortality part of another culture? Maybe the obsession with immortality might have a common language among the demon cultivators in some Eastern Great Country, but for him, it really doesn't resonate much.

What wrinkled his brow, however, was the mention of "Venerable King", though it was just in passing, he remembered it in his heart.

"So, your ultimate goal?" the old man of craftsmanship asked.

"Qijela will absorb the world's energy, thereby giving birth to several 'World Fruits'." He smiled as he laid out his plan, "By then, with just one fruit, we will have the power to roam the galactic seas, and this world will therefore lose its utility."

He looked mockingly out the window: "After all, what's left in this world is just a group of consumables muddling through work and debt every day, those people are nothing but tools that provide value, better transformed into the value in the hands of us, these pioneers of exploring the cosmos."

"And Old Lovecraft, I'm willing to share with you the immense power brought by this fruit."

The old man of craftsmanship took a deep breath, under the mask, he looked across: "I seem to have no reason to refuse, then there is only one answer…"

He picked up the cane in his hand: "I shall swear allegiance to you."

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