Purgatory Artist
Chapter 558: Flesh and Blood

Chapter 558: Flesh and Blood

"How was school today?"

"It was good."

"Did you pay attention in class?"

"Of course! I came in first place this time!"

"Really?"

"Yes, why would I lie?"

At the school gate, a middle-aged man waiting for Liu Ping paused mid-step.

He glanced inside, spotting the refined male teacher.

"Hello, teacher. 0880 says he ranked first..."

"Ah, yes. Your child is outstanding—top of the entire grade," the teacher confirmed warmly.

"I see..."

The man turned to Liu Ping.

Liu Ping wore an expression of eager anticipation for praise.

The man stood motionless—

But Liu Ping clearly saw the monster disguised as his "father" vigorously wiping drool from its maw.

A realization struck him—

It wants to eat me.

Desperately.

The teacher suddenly rested a hand on the man’s shoulder, his tone genial yet firm:

"Let 0880 rest well tonight. Tomorrow is his final Manifestation this year."

The man stiffened. "What? He earned the Manifestation slot?"

"Yes. So he needs proper rest," the teacher said, a subtle warning in his voice.

The man snapped out of it, patting Liu Ping’s head with forced cheer.

"Well done! Don’t get complacent!"

"I won’t," Liu Ping grinned.

That teacher’s tone had been unmistakable—a warning to this creature not to devour him prematurely.

"Off you go," the teacher said, turning to other parents.

"Let’s head home, 0880," the man said.

"Okay."

Dusk painted the sky in gold, the nascent moon hanging like flawless jade.

A breeze stirred as the man took Liu Ping’s hand, leading him down the pristine street.

No—

Liu Ping blinked.

The street morphed into pulsating flesh, crimson muscles occasionally revealing faces twisted in agony.

The sun was an eye.

The moon, another.

They alternated their gaze over the land, as if searching for something in this "real" world.

Suddenly—

New text appeared on his Nightmare Settings interface:

’[Application approved.]’

’[0880 has secured Manifestation.]’

’[0880 is under temporary protection. All missions suspended.]’

Suspended missions?

As he pondered, a message tagged [Class Group Chat] popped up:

"Boss, it’s 0810. Do you know what the Slumber Mission is?"

"No, but be careful," Liu Ping replied.

"Will do! Thanks to you, I scored well today. My parents are rewarding me with a Slumber Mission!" The tone was jubilant.

Others chimed in:

"Slumber Mission? Mine’s a Cleansing Mission. Wonder what’s the difference."

"Also got Slumber."

"Gotta go—my mission’s starting."

The chat fell silent as status updates flooded in:

’[0810: Mission in progress.]’

’[0892: Mission in progress.]’

’[0811: Mission in progress.]’

’[...]’

A chill crept down Liu Ping’s spine.

Protected from missions...

What are those kids walking into?

The "father’s" ravenous gaze flashed in his mind—

Bad. Very bad.

He channeled his Occult power.

Lines of fiery text erupted:

[You’ve authorized this sequence to wield your Occultisim power.]

[All fabricated records have been exposed. Displaying true logs:]

[Class roster: 51.]

[Survivors: 1.]

[Feeding concluded.]

[Preparing to replenish souls for new cycles.]

Liu Ping’s expression remained placid, as if reviewing trivial trivia.

So this is the "real" world.

"Your mother’s here too," the man said.

"Oh?" Liu Ping smiled.

At the intersection, under newly lit streetlamps, a middle-aged woman waited.

"I heard our son aced his exams?" she beamed.

"Yep! Pretty impressive, right?" Liu Ping cheerfully took her hand.

Now he understood why that boy’s "Manifest Parents" summoned monsters—

Because these things are monsters.

"Our 0880 is the best," ’father’ said proudly.

"What would you like for dinner, dear?" ’Mother’ asked.

"Anything’s fine," Liu Ping said.

"Nonsense! We’re celebrating!" she insisted.

"How?"

"We’re treating you to something special," she said mysteriously.

"A proper feast for our champion," ’Father’ agreed.

They crossed streets paved with writhing viscera, arriving at a chapel-like structure.

A priest at the entrance bowed. "Party of three?"

"Yes," ’Father’ said.

"This way."

The chapel doors swung open, revealing a bustling hall—

Laughter, chatter, drunken singing.

Liu Ping dispelled the illusion.

The hall was empty. Silent.

A headless skeleton was crucified behind the altar.

"Madam, we have a private booth available," the priest whispered.

"How lovely! I’ve heard the food here is divine," ’Mother’ trilled, beckoning Liu Ping. "Come, darling. Tonight’s menu is exquisite."

"Is it really that good?" Liu Ping played along.

"One bite, and you’ll understand," ’Father’ said solemnly.

They were seated beneath the crucifixion.

’Mother’ perused an empty menu with gusto, pointing at blank space.

"The chef’s special for our champion."

Liu Ping toggled his Occult vision—

Where a steak illustration should be, a lump of meat floated, oozing golden blood and radiating holy light.

New text flashed:

[Unknown Strange artifact detected:]

[Flesh of God.]

Toggling back, he saw a sizzling steak.

"Eat while it’s hot," ’Mother’ urged.

"This cost me a fortune. Don’t waste it," ’Father’ added.

The priest observed silently as dark mist coalesced into countless leering faces around them.

Liu Ping picked up his cutlery, smiling.

"Don’t worry—I won’t leave a single crumb."

His gaze locked onto the divine flesh.

(TN: Damn! )