The Rich Cultivator-Chapter 404. ERROR

Tyler’s PoV:

Alright. Everything is going according to plan.

To be more specific—everything is going exactly the way I made the Clown dance in the palm of my hand.

I always joke that I’m no good guy nor a bad guy — I’m just a rich guy. But the way I’ve handled this whole circus thingy? Yeah... if someone else did this, I’d probably label them a villain. And maybe I am also a Bad Guy now.

But there was no other way. Not against him.

Unlike his freakshow crew, the Clown is a Divine Seeker Realm cultivator. That’s an entirely different realm. I’m not stupid—hell, even though I’ve fought people of that level before in the Abyss, I only pulled through with help from others. This time, it’s just me... and my crew.

I can’t let Su Fei use her full power, She might turn against me.

And I’m not planning to gamble on a direct fight.

I got my hands on his diary. Not some basic journal with childhood doodles, no—this thing is a spiritual log. Some Immortal Practitioners like him loves to write Diary, just like mortals. But this one can store living memory directly into enchanted pages. It records emotion, visual, sound—everything. Just like a mortal writes in a daily diary, except this records things.

And what I saw in that diary?

It was like Entering through the pages of madness.

The Clown’s mind? It’s a carnival of chaos. Twisted logic. Hallucinations parading as memories. The guy’s not just crazy—he’s disturbingly creative with his insanity.

His dad is an Undertaker, Not a dead man, the one who buries the Dead man and woman and whatever the Gender there are —simple, honest job. But the pay? Since there is no dead in the village he got nothing. So what does our young clown do to help his old man?

He starts murdering people to "bring customers" to the family business.

Yes. He created supply and demand.

He monetized murder.

The guy invented a serial-killing business model.

And that’s not even the worst part.

He had a brother. And his brother had a lover—Amber.

Things got ugly. Real ugly.

He ended up killing both of them. But instead of accepting what he’d done, the clown... broke.

He created an array to preserve their corpse. But here’s where it gets more tragic than sick—he convinced himself they were still alive.

When his brother’s body began to rot, he actually thought his brother was dying—again. He wept. He panicked. He screamed at fate. He believed it was all real.

And Amber? He started carrying her corpse with him everywhere. Talking to her. Feeding her. Whispering sweet nothings to a lifeless body. He also had many intimate moments with a dead body.

Only few people in The crew knew. But no one dared say a word.

Because if thoss who did are not alive.

And now here we are.

He’s in my trap. And he doesn’t even know how deep the hole goes.

The plan is simple. Elegant, even.

Use his twisted love for Amber—his delusion that she’s still alive—as a leash.

I’ve set the stage. I made him run from room to room, desperate.

I already made many Copies of Amber Bodies. And even blown them before his eyes.

Now? Now he’s broken.

Now I make my move.

The real Amber’s body — I am gonna use it to make him submit.

I’m going to threaten him and make him wear the slave collar to supress his Realm. The only way to use this slave collar is only when they are unconscious or let them wear themselves.

After that, I won’t need to fight.

I’ll just whisper a command—and watch him die.

Cruel?

Maybe.

But I’ve seen his diary.

I’ve seen the towns he wiped out just for laughs. The children he used as "game arena". The families that got humiliated. Many people who died because of his madness.

This clown?

He’s not just a madman.

He’s a monster in greasepaint.

So yeah. Maybe today I’m not a good guy. Maybe today I’m playing the villain.

---

Panic swept across Fun Streak Island.

From nearly every corner of the island, people could see thick black smoke rising into the sky. Flames danced violently at the center—right where the massive circus tent once stood.

The Big Top was burning.

At the same time, the White Pearl returned to the island’s docks.

Gang Leader Darla and her daughter, Alna, rushed to the ship the moment it anchored. Their faces were tight with concern.

Lily stepped forward immediately, voice calm but commanding. "Don’t panic," she said. "We need control, not chaos."

She quickly relayed her instructions. "Call in all the gangs. I don’t care how many—just get them moving. I’ll pay, and you know how rich my captain is."

That promise was more than enough.

Within minutes, the gangs of Fun Streak Island were mobilizing, forming lines and patrols to push back the spreading panic.

"The circus is under attack," Lily continued, addressing Darla directly. "But we’re not going to let anyone use this as an excuse to loot or riot. Got it? You and your people focus on crowd control."

Darla gave a sharp nod and disappeared with Alna into the chaos.

Once they were out of earshot, Mathilda tilted her head. "Was all that really necessary?"

Lily glanced at her sideways, smirking. "Think about it. Tyler said he has a way to take down the Clown."

She leaned in, her eyes glinting with confidence.

"And when that happens... who do you think this entire island will belong to?"

Mathilda blinked—then her eyes lit up in realization.

"Oh," she said, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

---

Back at the center of the island—where the Circus Tent once proudly stood—there was nothing but chaos and rubble.

The grand Big Top was no more. Reduced to smoking ruins, its vibrant banners and colorful structures now lay scattered and burning, consumed by the explosive aftermath.

Most of the circus crew had been caught off guard. Many were dead. The rest, injured and struggling to comprehend what had just happened, lay scattered among the wreckage.

At the heart of the destruction, amidst the carnage and ash, sat the Clown.

He wasn’t laughing anymore.

His painted face was smeared with soot and blood. His once vibrant outfit now hung in tatters. And in the middle of it all, standing atop the wreckage like a god descending from chaos, was the one responsible.

Tyler White.

The Clown lifted his head slowly, eyes locking onto the figure before him. Tyler stood tall, his body radiating heat, covered in gleaming red dragon scales. His eyes glowed with the fierce brilliance of molten gold, and in his hand, he held a weapon that pulsed with ominous energy—a black Abyssal Trident, crackling with dark power.

Just like in the vision.

The Clown’s voice was quiet, nearly swallowed by the crackle of flames and crumbling debris. "Tyler White..."

Tyler exhaled sharply and deactivated his transformation, the dragon scales receding as his appearance returned to normal. He had barely escaped the blast himself and had been forced to activate Mode Dragon to survive.

He stepped forward, tossing something at the Clown’s feet with a dull clank—it was a slave collar, glinting menacingly under the glow of firelight.

Then Tyler reached into his pocket dimension and pulled out a body.

Amber.

"Good news, Clown," Tyler said, voice low and deliberate. "Guess what? Your Amber is still safe. Here’s the deal—wear that collar, and I’ll give her back to you. I swear it."

For a brief second, the Clown’s eyes widened, a flicker of emotion returning to his hollow expression. But just as quickly, his gaze went flat again—lifeless, distant.

Then, he laughed.

It wasn’t his usual manic cackle. It was bitter. Empty. The kind of laugh that makes your skin crawl.

Tyler narrowed his eyes, cautious. Something felt off. Still, he remained patient. He needed the Clown to wear the collar. The moment he did, his powers would be sealed—and Tyler could strike the finishing blow.

But then, the Clown did something unexpected.

He snapped the collar in half.

Tyler’s body tensed.

"No..." he muttered.

Before Tyler could react, the Clown reached into his sleeve and pulled out a single playing card. He flicked it—not at Tyler, but at Amber’s body.

The card plunged into her chest.

It was the Queen of Hearts.

A soft flicker of red light pulsed from the card—then exploded.

Tyler barely had time to act. He threw Amber’s body away just as the bomb went off.

The shockwave knocked him back.

As the smoke cleared, the Clown stood there, smiling like a madman again.

"Hahaha... It’s also fake. But also real. I don’t even know anymore!" He spun around like a dancer in a storm. "I’ll destroy all of my Ambers until I find the real one!"

Tyler groaned, as he pulled himself upright.

"Oh sh!t," he muttered, "looks like I messed up his already-messy mind a little too much." fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

This wasn’t part of the plan. Not even the worst-case simulations covered this reaction.

There was an error.

A big one.