Eldritch Horror Theatre

Fu Qian's posture was entirely too convincing, creating a sharp contrast with the message he delivered.

Lane clearly hadn't expected this somewhat affirmative answer. He froze for a moment, his mind racing to figure out what "I hope so" actually meant.

Given the sudden turn of events, this guy had to know their group was on high alert. The chances that he was just joking were slim.

But if he really did it, wouldn't a simple "yes" suffice? What was the point of adding "I hope so"? To soften the blow?

Any way Lane looked at it, that kind of tact felt even more provocative than a straight admission.

As his thoughts spun, a screech of wind beside him snapped him back to reality.

Unlike Lane and his meticulous overthinking, the hired thugs hadn't bothered to analyze a thing. More than one of them was radiating murderous intent, just waiting for the order to unleash the rage they had held back this entire trip.

"What should I call you?"

Shooting his men a look to stay their hands, Lane stared coldly at Fu Qian.

An unknown variable had just walked onto the stage, and this guy seemed to actually understand what was happening. Wasting his intelligence value just to vent their anger would be incredibly foolish.

"Fang."

Fully adhering to the principle that a shorter name sounded more imposing, Fu Qian kept this introduction even briefer.

At the same time, he sized up the source of the wind.

It was a strangely shaped weapon, twisted yet covered in rippling water patterns. The trident head was exquisitely crafted, looking more like a ceremonial implement than a practical weapon.

The whistling wind came from between the tines, as if miniature storms were circulating through them.

It looked like another piece of gear perfectly tailored for dominating the seas. True professionals.

Unfortunately, the weapon's owner clearly didn't appreciate Fu Qian's silent admiration.

The stocky brute hadn't attacked yet, held back by Lane's stern glare, but he still offered a savage grin and licked the tip of his halberd.

Where was the martial honor? The thing was even enchanted.

Fu Qian frowned, and whatever passing interest he had in the polearm instantly vanished.

"So what did you mean by that, Mister Fang? And what is your purpose in coming here to find us?"

The name Fu Qian gave was completely unfamiliar, but Lane didn't care, cutting straight to the core issue.

With Lady Burning Ash out there, he refused to believe this man had just accidentally wandered into their camp.

In fact, he had never expected the team member who claimed she was going out to scout to ever return.

"Simple. Lady Burning Ash ran into some trouble while she was out scouting."

Fu Qian gestured to the side.

"Fortunately, she ran into me. When she asked for help, I gladly agreed and decided to complete her reconnaissance mission for her."

This was getting more absurd by the second!

Lane's eye twitched.

Sure, Lady Burning Ash had claimed she was going out to scout, but the idea of her being that dedicated—or this Mister Fang being that helpful—was complete and utter bullshit.

"Then we really appreciate your hard work, Mister Fang. Did you find anything?"

Still, as a proper captain, Lane maintained his patience and pressed for an answer.

"You can't get out."

He hadn't expected the answer to be so brief, yet carry so much weight.

"This is a Miracle."

Before Lane could even ask, Fu Qian pointed at the sky and kept talking with absolute ease.

"See that? Some higher power has taken different regions of the Ash Sea and merged them together in a twisted convergence. We are currently standing inside one of those fragments."

"And your way back has already vanished in that distortion. From now on, you will only be able to wander aimlessly among these fragments."

...

Fu Qian's newly acquired and freshly regurgitated knowledge dealt a massive psychological blow to the group.

A major reason for this was that this experienced team, Lane included, already had their suspicions about their current predicament—and those suspicions were far from optimistic.

Fu Qian's words simply confirmed those fears, deepening their despair.

"That is indeed shocking intelligence. No wonder you came personally, Mister Fang."

With panic beginning to ripple through his crew, Lane took a deep breath to steady his emotions.

"But while this phenomenon is incredible, I've spent years at sea and have never heard of such a Miracle. You look quite young, Mister Fang. I wonder where you learned all of this?"

Unsurprisingly, he clearly voiced his doubts, subtly questioning the stranger's credentials in a bid to pry out more information.

"You are quite perceptive; I do rarely operate out on the sea."

Yet Fu Qian appeared remarkably easygoing, even magnanimously praising Lane's judgment.

"My main profession is running The Bookstore. Since I work in the cultural sector, I'm fairly well-read and possess a strong memory. As they say, every trade has its own specialization. Pay it no mind."

What absolute nonsense! What kind of bookstore stocked information on Miracles in the Ash Sea?

And what did "pay it no mind" mean? Was he telling them not to feel inferior about being uncultured?

This guy was an utter lunatic!

Lane's features had started to contort the moment Fu Qian mentioned his main profession. The sheer barrage of drivel that followed successfully ignited his suppressed rage, bringing his murderous intent to a boil.

"You have a death wish!"

But as it turned out, someone else's fury burned even hotter.

Before Lane could say another word, an explosive roar erupted beside him.

It was the trident-wielding brute. Without waiting for Lane's permission, he lunged forward to attack.

As he thrust his Long Halberd, a screech of wind far more piercing than before tore at their eardrums. It condensed into a formless spike at the tip of the weapon, driving straight for Fu Qian's face.

The situation had escalated in a flash. Lane, offended that his authority as the person in charge had been ignored, hesitated for a second but ultimately didn't intervene.

Testing the waters wouldn't hurt. If the guy turned out to be nothing but a weakling, they could just switch to a different interrogation method later.

"That's incredibly rude!"

Yet facing the sudden, ferocious assault, Mister Fang showed no signs of panic.

Instead, what followed was a scene that struck terror into Lane and his crew.

The halberd strike, carrying the momentum of wind and thunder, was caught effortlessly between two fingers. Fu Qian dodged the formless shockwave with a perfectly timed pivot.

"Attacking without even a proper greeting, and right after I shared such valuable intelligence with you."

Looking at the attacker, whose lingering rage was now frozen on his face, Fu Qian shook his head and lamented how human hearts were no longer pure. At the same time, his other hand shot out.

"How terrifying it is to be uncultured!"

Shit!

A fierce sense of crisis ripped through his mind. The brute finally reacted, letting go of his weapon and throwing himself backward.

But he only managed the very first step before his head was clamped in place, trapped as if caught in an iron vise.

Crack!

Amidst the crisp sound of breaking bone, his opponent's final words drifted over.

"The problem is, you're not even good at your non-cultural specialization."

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