The Rich Cultivator-Chapter 403. Ashes of Amber

When the clown arrived at the circus, rage burned inside him like wildfire. Yet his face betrayed none of it. It was Twisted , it was both laughing and crying—an eerie expression that only amplified the madness in his eyes.

"HAHAHA... I got cucked! Damn you, Tyler... TYLER WHITE!" he screamed, voice echoing like a haunted melody across the empty circus. "I’ll make you bleed from every organ and orifice. You’ll become Tyler Red! HAHAHAHA...."

His deranged laughter mixed with sorrowful sobs as he reached the top of the main tent. But no one was there—only a lone bed and a torn dress, the one Amber had worn in the video he saw before. He froze, then with a manic flick of his wrist, he summoned a card.

It spun through the air like a blade and struck the bed, causing a small explosion that ripped a gaping hole in the tent. Feathers and ash danced in the air like mocking snowflakes.

Without hesitation, the clown dove into the hole, landing gracefully in the center of the colorless circus floor. Everything around him had turned monochrome—black and white. The vibrant circus turned into Black and White, probably, Tyler did something.

"Amber... Amber..." he called, his voice trembling. His words echoed endlessly in the hollow space. "Tyler, give Amber back! She belongs to me—and my brother!"

His scream was answered not by footsteps, but by a voice.

"Welcome to the circus, Clown..." Tyler’s voice oozed through the tent’s speakers like honey tainted with venom.

Then a strange sound followed—a moan. "Aaahn... Sorry, I was feeding my cream to my new girlfriend, Amber. Her mouth and face are full of cream. She’s adorable when she’s messy."

"Stop! STOP!" the clown shrieked, his eyes wide with fury. He darted toward the monitoring room. Only from there could someone access the speaker systems.

He burst into the room like a storm. "Amber!?"

But there was no one inside—just silence and static. A communication watch lay near the Array console, blinking with an active connection.

"Oh, did you really think I’d be dumb enough to wait for you here?" Tyler’s voice echoed again through the watch. "I’m not your average circus act, clown."

Grinding his teeth, the clown sat and tried to activate the surveillance Arrays. He moved his hands across the interface with furious precision, opening every channel, every feed, but—

Buzz. Buzz.

Nothing but static.

"Damn it!" he growled, smashing his fist into the console.

He grabbed the communication watch and screamed into it. "Everyone in this circus—find Tyler White! Search every corner! Don’t let him escape!"

As he barked the order, a holographic image of Tyler White appeared across every screen and projection in the circus, showing his face frozen in a smug smirk.

"That’s a clever move..." Tyler’s voice replied calmly. "But is it really going to help you?"

"I have four words for you," the clown hissed, clenching the watch tightly. "I. Will. Kill. You."

Tyler chuckled. "And I have four words for you... I have a hostage."

The clown’s face twitched. "What do you want?"

"You’re the one who wanted to kill me," Tyler answered.

"You’re the one who burned the circus! I saw it. I SAW IT!" the clown shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.

"No," Tyler replied coolly. "If you hadn’t targeted me in the first place, none of this would have happened. The future has multiple possibilities. Just because you saw one, you wanted to kill me."

Tyler paused, then added with a hint of glee, "How about this? Come to the Candy Crush Room. I’ve placed your beloved Amber beneath the press. You might be able to save her—if you hurry."

The clown’s eyes widened. He didn’t hesitate. With a flash, he vanished from the monitoring room and appeared at the Candy Crush Room as quickly as possible.

The press was already descending.

"Amber!" he screamed, leaping forward, racing against time.

But he was too late.

Through the small gap of the pit, he saw Amber lying motionless. The press came down, blocking his view entirely as it sealed the hole.

"NOOOOOOO!" he howled, slamming his fists against the side of the machine. He dashed to the control panel in the next room, trying to stop the press.

But the controls were wrecked—deliberately destroyed.

"AMBER!!! I WON’T LET YOU GO, TYLER!" the clown bellowed, veins popping in his neck as his fury reached new heights.

He tried to attack the press, but it suddenly accelerated downward with a violent hiss. The sound of something being crushed echoed through the room, sharp and final.

Once, he had laughed at that sound—relishing it when he was the one crushing other people. But now, it felt like his own heart had been shattered beneath that weight.

Just then, a hologram activated on the watch again.

Tyler appeared, lounging on a throne in the Game Arena, looking relaxed and victorious. Amber rested against him, naked and her eyes closed peacefully.

"Don’t worry," Tyler said with a smirk. "That wasn’t your Amber in the pit. The real one’s right here—with me."

His hand grabbed her breast. His mouth kissed her cheeks.

The clown froze, heart pounding.

Then he vanished again.

A couple of seconds later. he arrived at the Game Arena.

The metal sheets on the arena floor groaned and parted, revealing — a towering, gothic castle bathed in a pale, unnatural glow.

"Oh no... The princess is stuck in the castle," came Tyler’s mocking voice from the arena’s speakers, saturated with sarcasm and mischief.

"Now... Let’s find out... will the Clown save the princess?" Tyler continued, his voice echoing like a cruel game show host announcing the final challenge.

The Clown stood frozen, his wild smile vanishing for the first time in years. His heart, which had long forgotten what it meant to feel genuine fear or panic, skipped a beat. His painted face— with half-laughing, half-crying expression—twitched involuntarily. Shock rooted him in place. This wasn’t just a trick. This was a nightmare designed for him, tailored for his madness.

Atop the castle’s highest spire, Amber was tied up, her body limp, her expression vacant. But that wasn’t all.

On the balconies, in the windows, on the terraces—everywhere he looked, he saw her. Amber.

There wasn’t just one.

There were dozens.

Hundreds.

Every single window, chamber, and hallway of the towering castle seemed to house a peaceful, unmoving Amber, as if she were both the prize and the punishment.

A large incense burner materialized in the center of the arena. Instead of releasing calming smoke, it burned violently like a bonfire, roaring with urgency. The countdown had begun.

"You have only this incense of time," Tyler’s voice echoed again, calm and terrifying. "Find the real Amber. If you try to save one, the others will detonate. If you can’t choose before time runs out... they’ll all be reduced to ash. So try to choose the real one."

The Clown stared blankly at the burning incense. Each second that passed was another nail hammered into his sanity.

"HAHAHAHA..." he forced a laugh, but his eyes were void of joy. "I’m the one who organized games for others. I built deathtraps, puzzles, and illusions. And now... I’m the show."

With trembling steps, he moved toward the nearest Amber.

She looked perfect—her skin pale, warm lips. He knelt, brushing her cheek with a gloved hand.

"Amber..." he murmured.

But his gaze flicked back to the burning incense. No time to pause.

He bolted through the castle corridors, finding room after room filled with more Ambers. Some were lying on silk beds, others locked behind golden bars, each one serene, their beauty haunting.

"This one... no, this one... maybe that one—" he whispered to himself, his words unraveling into madness.

And then... they spoke. Atleast in his point of view,

"Choose me..."

"I’m the real one..."

"No, save me... I’m your Amber..."

The voices didn’t come from their lips, but echoed in his head—whispers, pleas, desperate cries.

Hallucinations. But for him everything was real.

It was as if all the Ambers were reaching their arms twisting, demanding.

The Clown collapsed to his knees, clutching his head as he screamed. His mind was fracturing. The girl he loved, the girl he obsessed over, was everywhere... and nowhere. Each Amber was real. Each Amber was fake. He could no longer tell the difference.

"Time’s up," Tyler’s voice cut through the air, cruel and final.

"W-wait!" the Clown choked, scrambling toward one of the Ambers.

But it was too late.

With a blinding flash, the Ambers began to turn to ash.

One by one, like delicate paper sculptures caught in a blaze, they disintegrated. Silent. Beautiful. Horrifying.

And In clown’s point of view,

As they vanished, their ghostly glares lingered. The Clown could feel their eyes on him, feel their pain, hear their judgment.

"You didn’t save me."

"You let me die."

"You failed me."

He tried to scream, but no sound escaped.

And then, finally, the world around him caught fire.

Unbeknownst to him, Tyler had triggered the final act. All around the circus, hidden explosive charms ignited in succession. All floors lit up like a funeral pyre. The entire circus, once full of color and madness, was now engulfed in flames.

The arena trembled. The painted floor cracked. The seats collapsed inward like a mouth swallowing itself.

The Tent is Burning.