The Rich Cultivator-Chapter 386. Mathilda Strikes

More entities emerged—like living paintings brought to life—each riding a unicycle, each formed from swirling, multicolored paint that seemed to dance and ripple across their semi-liquid bodies. First one, then three, then a dozen. The Dream Carnival trembled with their arrival, as though chaos itself had been summoned to the stage.

Tyler’s eyes widened as the unicycling nightmares began to encircle him. Their erratic movements made it impossible to tell which direction they’d strike from.

He took a cautious step back and yelled out, "Girls! Little help here!"

From all around him, laughter echoed. Dr. Juggler’s voice reverberated through the air like the chime of warped bells. "Haha... Do you really think your little harem can save you?"

Tyler quietly listened to see it he can find the hiding Juggler.

One of the painted figures lunged toward him, arms wide like a twisted juggler preparing to grapple. But just as it was about to collide with him, it paused mid-leap. Then, inexplicably, it reversed direction—riding the unicycle backwards through the air, retracing its steps.

"Time reversal?" Tyler muttered, he relaxed a little since the Girls took action. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

Before he could analyze it further, two more of the painted entities launched at him. But before they got close, a streak of lightning whipped across the battlefield. The electric arc cracked through the air and coiled around both figures, reducing them to steam in the blink of an eye.

From atop the red shrine, Lily flicked her whip again, letting residual sparks hiss along its length.

The remaining entities, however, weren’t deterred. They surrounded Tyler in a wide ring, and just as they were about to rush him en masse, they all stopped—frozen mid-motion. Their heads, or what passed for heads in their fluid-like forms, tilted toward the tent.

Even Dr. Juggler, hidden somewhere in the twisted scenery, went quiet. His voice came after a pause, laced with confusion. "What... are they looking at?"

From the shadows of the tent, a new figure emerged. At first glance, it resembled one of Dr. Juggler’s creations—its body a glistening swirl of greenish paint, semi-translucent and vibrant. It was shaped like a woman, with elegant curves and graceful motion. She moved with a kind of girlish charm, hopping and skipping as if skipping through a garden, completely unfazed by the chaos around her.

Tyler blinked. "Another one...?"

Dr. Juggler gasped. "That’s my work! That’s my technique! Who the hell stole my Art?! It took me fifty years to develop that Minion Formula!"

A voice called lazily from behind the paint woman. "Relax. I can only make one minion. It’s harder than it looks."

Mathilda stepped out from the tent, brushing paint dust off her sleeves.

Tyler’s jaw dropped. "Wait—you made that?"

"Huh?" she said with a teasing grin. "This Minion Formula is a Good Art that can create humanoid entities. You are genius Dr. juggler. "

"You little—thief!" Dr. Juggler’s voice cracked with disbelief. "How did you even get into my tent? It’s laced with seven layers of airborne poison! That place is my sanctuary!"

Mathilda twirled a bronze-colored token in her hand. "Poison? Huh. I didn’t notice. But thanks for the notes. They were just lying around."

Inside Dr. Juggler’s hidden lair, there were no detection arrays—he’d never needed them. The entire tent was toxic to anyone who wasn’t him. The walls were laced with volatile alchemical fumes and his own unique poisonous concoctions. It should have been impossible for anyone to survive, let alone steal from him.

Mathilda continued strolling forward, utterly unfazed. She held up the token and tapped it once. The large circus tent shimmered, shrunk down to the size of a coin, and vanished into her palm.

Then she tossed the token into her storage pouch with a little wink. "Hope you had backups."

Meanwhile Tyler is looking at the entities made by Dr. Juggler and Mathilda. Dr. Juggler’s entities looks like Circus performers. Mathilda’s looks like a Naked Woman with perfect figure.

"Tsk... " Tyler clicked his tongue. Mathilda is definitely a Genius for to master a Technique that she just got. But she is a pervert.

Dr. Juggler screamed in frustration from wherever he was hiding. "That was my Lab! You arrogant little—!"

Before he could finish his rant, the green paint woman—Mathilda’s new creation—suddenly exploded in size. It roared silently and charged at the unicycle creatures that had surrounded Tyler, dispersing them like bowling pins. The entities scattered, crashing into trees, dissolving into puddles, or bursting in plumes of colored smoke.

Tyler stood still, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He turned to Mathilda and gave her a mock salute. "Remind me never to piss you off."

"Oh, you wouldn’t survive," she replied sweetly.

From above, a new storm of laughter rang out, though this time it sounded more manic, tinged with madness and panic. Dr. Juggler’s voice echoed once more, but it had lost its confident lilt.

"This is my Domain!" he shouted. "You think you can just waltz in and dismantle my masterpiece?!"

Tyler narrowed his eyes and looked toward the distorted sky, where the paint-colored clouds swirled like oil on water.

"I think we already have," he said flatly. "Your monsters are falling apart. Your tent’s gone. Your hostage is safe."

He raised one hand, calling forth a ripple of magic beneath his feet. The chessboard shimmered into view again—the signature of his own domain.

"Your carnival’s over, Doctor."

Rain began to pour from the painted sky, gentle at first—then torrential. Each drop that struck the ground washed away a bit of color, as if the very world was melting.

Tyler closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the familiar pulse of his Domain beneath his feet—his chessboard, a grid only he could fully perceive. Within this domain, every step, every breath, was accounted for. He sensed a presence—faint, quick-moving—perched high above in a tree.

"Chariot," he whispered.

Far in the distance, Dr. Juggler, now panicked and exposed, tried to flee. But He zipped horizontally with an unnatural twitch, then suddenly propelled forward—only to be yanked out of the air and slammed into the muddy ground.

A trident appeared before him, inches from his throat—Tyler’s Abyss Trident, gleaming with ominous blue runes. Rain hissed off its tip as if the weapon itself rejected the very water.

Tyler and Mathilda stood over him, Not even a drop of Rain Water fell on them, their gazes were cold and unmoved.

"Huh... I surrender," Dr. Juggler said with a sheepish shrug, raising both hands in mock surrender, though a twitch of his fingers betrayed his real intentions.

Mathilda, ever the alchemist, snapped her fingers.

A silvery powder burst into the air from her palm, dancing through the downpour. As it spread, it crackled—reacting with something invisible. Thin green mist, previously unseen, began to corrode and disintegrate under the powder’s touch.

"Invisible poison. Again," she said with an exasperated sigh. "Trust me, it won’t work as long as I’m here."

Before Dr. Juggler could try another trick, a whip snapped through the air with a thunderous crack. It wrapped tightly around his head and sent a jolt of lightning surging through his skull. He slumped, unconscious, face-first into the wet dirt.

Lily and Su Fei stood beside Tyler.

A moment later, a loud rumbling sound echoed as something heavy rolled toward them.

Mana appeared, effortlessly pushing a large cauldron-like pot. The thing clanged with every bump in the road, steam rising from its sealed lid. She stopped beside Tyler and wiped a strand of hair from her face.

The lid flipped open—and Darla’s head popped out, eyes wide.

"Is it over?" she asked, scanning the eerie remnants of the battlefield.

Tyler let out a breath, nodding. "Yeah... at least for now. Let’s just hope his captain won’t make things diffi—"

He never finished the sentence.

Laughter erupted above them—wild, guttural, and unhinged.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Clap. Clap. Clap.

A figure sat on the highest branch of a nearby tree, clapping slowly with white-gloved hands. His face was painted in exaggerated clown makeup—wide, red lips curled into a manic grin, blackened eyes that seemed to drip paint, and a nose that gleamed unnaturally red under the rain.

A Blue lion, massive enough to rival a carriage, rested at the tree’s base. Its mane glowed faintly in the dim light, its eyes glowing with feral intelligence.

On the lion’s back stood another man, regal in presence yet theatrical in flair. He wore a tall black top hat, a crimson tailcoat with gold trim, a gold vest, black pants, and polished shoes. A cane rested in his gloved hand, while a coiled whip hung from his belt.

Together, they were unmistakable.

The Clown—the Captain of the Circus Pirates.

And The Ringmaster—the Vice-Captain of Circus Pirates.

The rain gradually came to a stop as Tyler retrieved his domain, allowing the soaked and color-washed world to settle into a heavy silence.

The Ringmaster’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze landing on Su Fei with a spark of interest.

Meanwhile, the Clown stood atop the tree branch, his head tilting side to side, observing each member of the group with gleeful fascination—like a child seeing new friends. His grin widened unnaturally, eyes dancing with manic delight.