Eldritch Horror Theatre

How could he lack manners when calling on a reclusive, low-profile master?

For him, the primary advantage was that this truly was just a visit.

He had no intention of murdering anyone for treasure, nor did he even plan to ask this master to come out of seclusion.

Dispelling his concealment, Fu Qian wasn't entirely sure if his sincerity had been received, but the moment he arrived at this humble abode, he was met with a thick, overwhelming malice.

This was simply too... disgusting.

Fu Qian had witnessed his fair share of things that defied imagination, yet for a moment, he still felt his horizons had been broadened.

This wasn't some fermented slurry of excrement. It transcended the basic senses, a conceptual filth that bypassed all physical processes and poured the sheer urge to vomit directly into his brain.

Fu Qian suspected that the sharper one's perception, the more violent the reaction would be. If an ordinary person stumbled in here, they would likely just think the seawater was a bit murky.

Still, how could his earnest desire to seek the truth be deterred by such a trivial obstacle?

Along the way, he even rapidly transformed his bare feet into a pair of webbed flippers as a gesture of respect.

...

Where there was a will, there was a way. Before he had even taken seven steps, Fu Qian managed to pinpoint a trace of coolness within the murky depths—like a breath of mint in a cesspit.

Guided by this peculiar perception, he maneuvered through the empty water, stepping forward, retreating, and twisting along a bizarre route.

By the time he stopped, his hand seemed to touch a transparent barrier concealed within the water.

What a miraculous method of concealment. The Ash Sea truly lived up to its reputation as a blessed land.

Fu Qian marveled with a sigh and reached out to give it a push.

Following his movement, a waterless, oval opening materialized before him, as if a door had just been opened.

This was the place.

Only the faintest trace of the illusory Thread of Attachment remained, yet it still pointed clearly toward the space Inside the Door.

In truth, with its marker guiding him, Fu Qian was confident he could have torn this place open using pure brute force even without following that guidance.

But when had he ever been such a mindless, unreasonable person?

In no rush to move, Fu Qian looked down to inspect his body, his gaze quickly locking onto his feet.

A moment later, the flippers rapidly receded, morphing back into a pair of black formal shoes. Only then did he step through the door.

...

The visual effect wasn't bad, but was this place truly the source of that disgust?

The next moment, Fu Qian's feet stepped into a layer of shallow water.

At a glance, faint, firefly-like glimmers in the gloom outlined the silhouette of a solitary island in the water.

However, accompanying this tranquility was a wave of repulsion nearly ten times as potent as what he'd felt outside.

Even so, Fu Qian's calm remained completely undiminished. He made no attempt to seal off his senses, choosing instead to carefully observe the island's contours.

Spikes, thorny hides, keels, and long fins—it was glaringly obvious that it wasn't made of ash like everywhere else, but was instead a tangled creation of flesh and blood.

The faint glow emanated from clusters of coral-like entities on its surface.

As he walked, the soles of his shoes transmitted a slippery, greasy texture that felt more like biomass than mud.

Just as he had expected, every anomaly had a reason behind it.

No wonder the creations within the Shattered Crown had seemed so scarce along the way. They had all run off to here.

...

Was this what had granted the fishman its freedom and even quelled the violent rage in its heart?

Fu Qian had always prided himself on never judging by appearances. Naturally, he wouldn't abandon this bizarre journey simply because of the island's abnormality.

As he took two steps forward, the little fishman sprawled in the water came into clear view.

He wasn't sure if it was due to its previous extreme overexertion, but while it still had signs of life, it remained completely unresponsive to its surroundings.

The first thing to actually be disturbed by Fu Qian was a massive spike located not far from the little fishman.

At first glance, the spike looked somewhat familiar. Fu Qian naturally thought of a certain multi-mouthed beast named Sarlon.

That place was very far from here. Could it be that the deceased creatures of the Ash Sea didn't return to ash, but instead gathered here through some special method?

Clicking his tongue in wonder, Fu Qian finally rounded an angle and saw the scene directly opposite the little fishman.

Another one?

A moment later, even Fu Qian was mildly surprised.

...

Illuminated by several coral clusters, a face bearing features similar to the fishmen hung low before him.

Further down from the pale, translucent upper torso, he could also see traces of scales.

However, compared to those on the little fishman on the ground, these scales were not only dull, but they didn't even interlock.

The further down they went, the more they seemed to have been pulled into various twisted shapes by an invisible force.

It gave off a feeling that was almost the physical manifestation of that disgusting sensation.

The majority of her lower body was buried within the "island" behind her. The scales could even be seen extending all the way onto the flesh of the island, covering a massive area like a gigantic skirt.

Hmm...

As Fu Qian drew closer, she finally reacted, letting out a pain-filled groan.

Her limp, hanging hand also moved with difficulty.

Was she calling him over?

Although he had dabbled a bit in sign language, this incredibly feeble movement clearly couldn't carry any real information. Fu Qian could only interpret it from the simplest angle.

Yet as he took two steps forward, a trace of an ominous premonition stirred in Fu Qian's heart.

He was in no rush to speak. A moment later, the drooping head finally lifted with difficulty and "looked" in his direction.

Just as he thought!

A moment later, Fu Qian realized his concern had come true.

On that delicate, youthful face, the eyes, ears, and mouth were actually all completely sealed shut by a wax-like substance.

"Excuse the intrusion."

Fu Qian tried offering a greeting.

Unfortunately, she gave no response, her movements completely frozen there.

After going through all that trouble to find this master, she actually couldn't speak?

This was truly an unexpected situation.

To pay a visit and ask for guidance, he would still need verbal communication to make it work, no matter what.

Was she actually preventing him from being courteous and respectful, leaving him no choice but to farm mobs for loot to gain anything?

That was not his style at all.

Allowing her to continue "looking" at him, Fu Qian recalled his experience coming in just now.

Whether it was the route guidance at the door or her movements as he approached, both proved that she was aware of his arrival.

Yet, she clearly couldn't hear his words.

At the same time, however, she had been able to hear the little fishman's song and guide it all the way here...

Was there a difference here? Did he need to sing a song too?

Wait.

Fu Qian raised a hand, noting a trace of light rippling across the Glove.

The key wasn't the singing, but the species?

After pondering for two seconds, Fu Qian took the Glove off.

The next moment, he squeezed his hand, and this precious artifact carrying Vivian's entrusted wish struggled briefly before crumbling into Residue.

Along with it, a smear of the iridescent color he had once seen on her tail spilled out.

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