Eldritch Horror Theatre

Not bad. He had basically confirmed his current state. This wasn't the malicious gaze of a High-Tier Existence, which made the probability that the Witch had implicated him that much higher.

Fu Qian wasn't surprised by this result.

Of course, the countdown to Death had also been reconfirmed.

Not only that, but the moment he put on the Head Cage, he felt the unique accumulation of negative effects—brought on by entering this world through the Extreme Hunger Infection—suddenly spike in speed.

As expected of an item produced by the Nightmare Corridor; there was clearly some kind of synergistic effect at play.

However, Fu Qian still didn't take off the Head Cage. He stayed as he was, picking up the Blasphemous Embrace beside him and even taking a moment to casually clean the floor.

He had said he was here to cover a shift, so he still had to fulfill his duties.

With all that done, Fu Qian didn't linger. Carrying his bountiful harvest, he casually headed downstairs.

...

It seemed the fallout from the prisoner's one-second jailbreak had finally reached this place.

The clearest sign was that, despite the continued absence of a saint standing guard, Fu Qian spotted his old teammate who had recently investigated the Nightmare twice—Reginald.

The man was clearly in a foul mood. With a cold expression, he was deploying search teams throughout the Art Gallery, repeatedly hammering home the key points:

First, do not split up under any circumstances. Second, look only for traces of anomalies. If they actually found anything, they were to report it immediately and avoid any form of conflict.

Clearly, after tonight's in-depth understanding, The Order had drastically raised his threat level.

At the same time, it was obvious they still didn't consider the painting a high-priority threat.

After all, the group that had come straight here to investigate was just one of several squads.

Reginald, leading the operation, even specifically instructed the other squads to pay close attention to every single painting.

It seemed the Blood Clan had actually shared some of the intelligence from tonight's meeting with The Order.

Such as the possibility that he had come from another Painting World.

This behavior was understandable. With such a massive incident occurring, you had to allow others to react.

The Blood Clan's current feelings toward him were probably quite complicated, but it was impossible for them not to try probing a little further.

How could they pass up using The Order when they made for such excellent free labor?

As for their methods, judging by how smoothly Madam No. 2's blood slave spoke, that person likely wasn't their only puppet inside The Order. Slipping an idea in undetected would be incredibly easy.

He kept walking as he pondered. Just as he was about to bump right into his old friend Reginald, a bloody mist rose from Fu Qian's body, and he vanished from where he stood.

...

Another squad hadn't gotten very far yet. Under the effects of the Blood Crusade, Fu Qian leaped directly into their line of sight.

Unlike a sweet, lovey-dovey couple, the squad members were on high alert under the tense atmosphere Reginald had established.

"Ah—"

Because of this, someone spotted the anomaly in their field of vision almost instantly, letting out a sharp gasp of surprise.

Though it was only a fleeting glimpse, that silhouette was truly bizarre.

A shadow with an elongated head, clearly not human, slipped back into the darkness before anyone could get a good look at it.

Alerted by the cry, the rest of the squad naturally caught sight of the scene as well.

Despite generally being quite young, they showed considerable discipline. They quickly shut down any impulse to give chase and sent out the agreed-upon signal instead.

By the time backup arrived, the figure had long since disappeared.

"Excellency."

Someone called out to a frowning Reginald, gesturing for him to look at the floor.

Spots of blood had appeared on the smooth brown floor.

He really was here...

Reginald's expression turned complicated as he crouched down to examine the bloodstains for a few seconds.

...

He hoped that would provide a little guidance.

By this point, Fu Qian was already strolling down the long street outside, still wearing the Head Cage.

What he had just done was very simple: leave a small trace for The Order, and by extension the Blood Clan, to help convince them that a second painting existed.

As things stood, he no longer needed their help to investigate the Painting World.

But since they had delivered themselves to his doorstep, he might as well take a page from the Blood Clan's book and maximize his use of their manpower.

Therefore, Fu Qian chose to show himself in a different area and leave a few traces behind.

It didn't matter which painting The Order zeroed in on because of this. As long as it wasn't the Seven Lights' painting, their actions would at least serve some meaningful purpose.

...

Although he still had no idea exactly where the Witch was, a few things were basically certain.

First, traces of the Witch still existed in this world; they hadn't dissipated entirely.

Second, something was wrong with her condition. He couldn't even rule out the possibility that she was in a death-like state.

Third, she had anticipated this condition in advance, which was why she had left gifts for him—and even hidden a final meeting inside the Painting World.

Moreover, neither of these things mentioned a single word about what she would face. That clearly showed she didn't want him getting involved.

The trouble she was in was likely quite extreme.

After all, just seeing that meeting in the Painting World required him to break through the barrier to get there, and even expend the effort to do things like flip the world upside down.

Yet despite all that, she still hadn't left a single word of instruction to guide him to her rescue.

Unfortunately, when it came to coming to the rescue, the person needing saving rarely got a say.

Even though the results of his forceful use of Insight proved, to some extent, that her choice was justified.

Mentally tallying his current haul, Fu Qian took his time on the walk back.

Even though he was still wearing the Head Cage, it was late enough that he didn't have to worry about scaring any innocent bystanders.

His destination, of course, was clear.

Strolling along as if taking a leisurely walk, Fu Qian eventually stopped outside a quaint, elegant residence, silently calculating the time.

Yes, this was the place Anke had rented.

Getting off the night shift meant it was time to go home.

Standing in the shadows, he gazed up for a moment. Through the gaps in the Head Cage, he could see that nothing in the surroundings had changed.

It was still a quiet night, occupied by people who lacked any nightlife.

...

Truly authentic.

Not feeling surprised, Fu Qian reached up and pulled off the Head Cage.

The second attribute of this item was that, after wearing it for over an hour, the user could see the true nature of the surrounding world.

The hour was up, and since absolutely nothing looked different, it reconfirmed to some extent that what lay before him wasn't a Nightmare.

He patted his pockets—surprisingly, he still hadn't lost the Key.

The next moment, Head Cage in hand, Fu Qian stepped forward and opened the door.

Even though the night had descended far too abruptly, the landlady, Mrs. Harper, had still stuck to her usual routine and gone to bed early.

Even her breathing was as steady as ever, completely undisturbed by the sound of the front door opening.

Shutting the door softly behind him, Fu Qian quietly made his way upstairs. He opened the door to his room and greeted Amira, who was staring over at him in shock.

"No night shift today?"

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