Eldritch Horror Theatre

It certainly looked the part of a murder scene.

The figure sprawled diagonally across the bed was a young woman, at least a third of her body drenched in scarlet.

She lay completely bare and motionless, so stiff that it looked exactly like she had been brutally murdered right there. But she hadn't been.

Fu Qian didn't rush over to check on her. He had already reached a conclusion that contradicted his initial impression.

The reason was simple: his sense of smell had returned.

In this gruesome scene, the air was actually thick with the stench of alcohol.

The swath of scarlet didn't appear to be blood sprayed from a human body, but rather a highly misleading red wine.

From where he stood, the only visible injury was what looked like a tiny wound on her neck. It was hard to imagine a wound that small bleeding this profusely.

Yet the stench of alcohol combined with a neck wound—this classic setup easily called to mind a very specific scenario.

Just as he expected, his fingers met cold material rather than flesh—a mask.

The contours were familiar enough that he didn't need a mirror to picture it. His mind naturally sketched out the black-and-white facial design radiating awe-inspiring majesty—Dayun Mingwang.

That was right. It was the exact disguise he had used when roaming the jianghu and making a name for himself in Shangjing.

The mask's contours were familiar because he had personally picked it out from Eldest Miss Wen's collection.

A drunk young woman, a neck wound, and an unmistakable hotel room. Throw all these elements together, and it was hard not to think of the recent vampire attacks on passed-out drunks that had caused such an uproar in Shangjing.

Even though the visual impact of this scene was slightly less intense, he had witnessed a very similar sight during his own investigations.

The only question was... whose dream was this?

...

While perception was naturally distorted in a dream, the resulting gap in power compared to suddenly reverting to an ordinary mortal simply could not be mentioned in the same breath.

At this moment, all Fu Qian could confirm was that it was the dead of night outside, and no one was hiding behind the heavy drapes.

And the scene before him was undoubtedly very bad news.

If someone rushed in right now, they would never believe he was just passing through.

Knock, knock!

Speak of the devil. A moment later, a calm, unhurried knock actually rang out from the door to the side.

The suddenness of the sound—without any preceding footsteps—complemented the bizarre scene before him perfectly.

It was just a pity that this elegant visitor didn't actually wait for Fu Qian to open the door.

A moment later, the reasonably exquisite door lock was forcefully twisted and shattered from the outside.

A tall, straight-backed figure in his twenties.

As metal fragments scattered, the door was pushed open in silence. A familiar figure stood in the doorway, staring coldly at him with eyes as sharp as knives.

...

Jiang En.

He had to admit, given the current scene, it was a surprisingly fitting face to see.

After all, even though the recent string of attacks on passed-out drunks had ultimately been pinned on the Greed Worms, the man standing before him was the true culprit.

Not to mention that, fundamentally, Jiang En could also be considered a Greed Worm himself.

An indenture contract signed with a Deity was never easily shaken off.

"A pleasure to meet you. Please, come in."

Facing that hostile expression, Fu Qian remained as calm as ever, offering an inviting gesture.

"I should be the one saying that," Jiang En said.

The man scanned the room with a stony face. His gaze lingered on the wine-soaked woman for a few seconds before he finally stepped inside, not forgetting to close the ruined door behind him.

"Dayun Mingwang. Recently, thanks to you, Shangjing has become quite lively."

"You flatter me," Fu Qian replied.

It was clearly not meant as a compliment, but Fu Qian acted as if he couldn't tell. As he spoke, his gaze drifted past Jiang En's shoulder, peering into the hallway behind him.

"What is it?"

Jiang En noticed the look. He glanced back over his shoulder before turning around with a sneer.

"Don't worry. There is no one else here but me."

"Then I have even less reason to understand your actions," Fu Qian said.

He shook his head slightly, pointing at the shattered hole in the door.

"If it wasn't to ensure your backup in the hallway could hear us clearly, what was the point of doing that?"

"You supposedly came alone for a private conversation, yet the very first thing you do is blow a hole in the door?"

...

"Can the Wisdom King tell me what exactly is going on here?"

Faced with Fu Qian's flawless logic, Jiang En was visibly at a loss for words.

However, with the overall situation firmly in his grasp, he wasn't about to be troubled by such minor details.

Sneering once more, he completely ignored the question, gesturing toward the mess on the bed with his eyes.

"She's not dead," Fu Qian said.

Much to his disappointment, despite being caught red-handed in such a compromising scene, Dayun Mingwang's voice carried not a trace of panic. He even offered a casual explanation.

"Strictly speaking, her current condition is more like she used her head to open a bottle of wine, and then promptly passed out."

"Of course I know she's not dead," Jiang En said.

His composure didn't waver in the slightest.

"You're not a real vampire, after all."

Jiang En's sneer was accompanied by a piercing gaze, one that seemed capable of penetrating the Ferocious Mask and seeing straight to the thoughts hidden beneath the bone.

"If someone had actually died, the reaction from the Night Watchers and Gulade would be completely different from what it is now."

"Oh? And what is it now?"

Seeing the man's overt hostility, Fu Qian's tone cooled down as well, asking in a mild, indifferent voice.

"Going through the motions. Keeping each other in check. Letting that poor suspect slowly sink deeper into trouble until, even without hard evidence, he's forced to stay grounded or outright chased out of Shangjing."

"Taylor Gulade?" Fu Qian replied. "Sounds a bit pitiful, but what good would that do me? I can't really say I'm that familiar with him."

He remained entirely noncommittal toward the accusation.

"That's the clever part."

Jiang En sneered repeatedly, refusing to give him a moment to breathe.

"I believe you. You and Taylor really don't know each other well, and you have no grievances. Forget about the Night Watchers—even he himself would probably find it hard to suspect you."

"But a continuous string of incidents like this is definitely not without benefit to you."

"Faced with your challenge, neither that pitiful man desperate to prove his innocence, nor his clansmen trying to keep a low profile and minimize the fallout, will have any interest in responding to you."

"From there, you can easily spread rumors that Taylor Gulade was too afraid to show his face. You can keep causing trouble until he's chased out of Shangjing, and then finally turn your sights on me."

Jiang En pointed to his own face.

"As a minor figure who hasn't even reached the Mid Tier yet, I'm naturally a much smaller threat than Taylor. Once you've dealt with me, the name of Dayun Mingwang will echo throughout Shangjing... And that is exactly why the woman on the bed is still breathing."

"The moment an ordinary person dies in an incident involving Transcendent Tier elements, the Night Watchers' response will escalate to a completely different level of intensity. When that happens, not only would that poor vampire likely be cleared of suspicion, but you would inevitably be hunted down and forced to pay a terrible price... Am I right?"

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