Eldritch Horror Theatre

A dropped needle could be heard.

Every molecule of air in the Bookhouse in the Woods seemed to resonate with His Excellency Arakiel's shock.

After both sides had exhausted their methods and given it everything they had, finally reaching a hard-won compromise, this was all that tool of a man had to say?

Dayun Mingwang was truly no ordinary man!

Although Fu Qian mentally supplied that last line himself, he felt it was a perfectly reasonable reaction for a higher entity who seemingly still possessed emotions.

So, playing along, he even put on an arrogant expression.

"Huh?"

In contrast, Su Gao, who was clearly taken aback as well, showed a far less intense emotional response.

A mysterious demigod using frost powers—given Mr. Fu's usual style, she was almost certain he was referring to himself.

"Understood."

Faced with this overwhelming display of confidence, Su Gao quickly smiled and agreed.

Clearly, despite his miserable appearance, she believed that if Mr. Fu had this much confidence, he could definitely pull it off.

Besides, theoretically speaking, if he really did stir up huge trouble later, it would be much easier to cover for him if she took over the matter herself.

Mr. Fu's reminder was clearly meant to keep her from getting dragged into that mess.

"I've made a note of it. Anything else?"

Skipping any pointless pleasantries, Su Gao pressed on.

"Yes. Enjoy your time off."

Truly a child worthy of teaching. Thoroughly satisfied, Fu Qian gave a crisp wave of his hand.

Her special constitution allowed her to resist the erosion, but that didn't mean she could hold out forever.

Arakiel's refusal to give up was proof enough of that.

In that instant, the bookhouse grew restless once again.

...

Despite facing such blatant disrespect, His Excellency Arakiel was still reluctant to kick him out. Naturally, this wasn't because he was a masochist.

He chose to endure humiliation and shoulder heavy burdens solely to pull off a miraculous success.

Yet now, this once-in-a-lifetime candidate was actually being advised to leave?

Clearly, Fu Qian's psychotic habit of strangling hope in its crib was utterly unacceptable.

Unfortunately, it was even clearer that he had to accept it whether he wanted to or not.

Upon receiving Fu Qian's advice, Su Gao paused for a fraction of a second before nodding without the slightest objection.

Along with that motion, the Illusory Eye hovering above her head expanded uncontrollably, stretching to its absolute limit.

Then, in complete silence, it faded away alongside her body.

She departed just as effortlessly as she had arrived, leaving without a trace.

And her departure was completely unaffected by His Excellency Arakiel's will.

Inside the Bookhouse in the Woods, only Fu Qian, still wearing his Iron Cage, remained casually leaning back in his seat.

...

Sigh!

Compared to before, the current silence was undoubtedly far more oppressive.

And this undercurrent of surging fury was finally broken by Fu Qian's long sigh.

"I'm not entirely sure how long Your Excellency has been locked up in here, but I just want to say that times have changed on the outside."

His subsequent words were earnest and heavy with meaning.

"Society is advancing day by day. People live in peace and prosperity. From the transcendent world down to everyday life, every sector values win-win cooperation. It might be time to change those outdated ideas of the past."

"This seat has already shown enough sincerity. Does Your Excellency truly wish to continue making choices that stifle personal initiative?"

His bland words carried immense weight. Even an ancient higher entity like Arakiel seemed deeply moved.

The specific proof was that even after he finished speaking, the hundreds and thousands of books had not yet flown up to smash into Fu Qian's head.

Clang!

Instead, the heavy sound of metal hitting the floor rang out. Fu Qian boldly pulled off the Sweet Dream Head Cage—the one thing that might have offered slight protection against such an attack—and tossed it to the ground.

"After everything I've said, if Your Excellency remains stubborn, then feel free to make your move. Why would I, Fu, fear you!"

...

This wildly uninhibited behavior, along with a speech that sounded like he was about to undergo a magical transformation, wasn't just Fu Qian fooling himself into a delusion.

The flow of time in the dream was wrong.

He vividly remembered the information Demigod Su had brought.

Even though it felt like he had only been in here for a short while, there was no telling how much real time had actually passed.

Wearing the Sweet Dream Head Cage for a prolonged period came with side effects.

Given his current situation, Fu Qian had absolutely no interest in experiencing what a Nightmare within a Nightmare felt like.

Tossing away your weapon to show sincerity after killing the people who needed killing—that was an essential skill for anyone surviving on the streets.

Crash!

With the atmosphere pushed to its absolute limit, the silent cabin finally stirred, as if responding to Fu Qian.

Without any visible force driving them, all the books on the shelves cascaded onto the floor like a waterfall.

And just as they surged to Fu Qian's feet, right on the verge of drowning him, everything shattered like fragile bubbles, and the Dim Corridor reappeared before his eyes.

...

He wasn't some stubborn old fossil after all.

His Excellency Arakiel had actually listened to advice. He truly chose to respect talent, releasing Dayun Mingwang from the Divine Dream, merely venting a bit of his frustration through that final illusion.

That was the charitable interpretation.

The more realistic take was that, as the sole hope of the village, the deeper he—the designated tool—was eroded, the less value he held.

Even if he had wanted to stay, Arakiel probably wouldn't have allowed it.

Shaking his head mentally, Fu Qian used his newly restored mobility to slightly adjust the eyeball he had stuffed in earlier.

"What was that just now?"

Never one to disappoint, Brother Persuader's voice rang out within five seconds of Fu Qian's reappearance.

"Who was that?"

"Didn't you say you were having someone guide that Taylor guy? I've been waiting this entire time, and there's still no sign of him!"

...

"Oh, how long have you been waiting?"

The rapid-fire questions perfectly illustrated Brother Persuader's frantic mood, but Fu Qian's tone remained as relaxed as ever.

"...From then until now, a whole night has passed."

It was obvious the Persuader was trying his hardest to stay calm, but he couldn't quite mask the bitterness in his voice.

That long... Well, that made a lot of sense...

Taking off the Head Cage just now had definitely been the right move.

Lost in thought, Fu Qian didn't rush to answer.

"It looks like you might need to find more friends to help you. Or do you not have any others?"

As the Persuader pressed on, he displayed a rare hint of resolve.

"If that's the case, you might need to consider taking on the boring job of standing guard."

"Don't expect to blackmail me with the promise of getting out again. Trust me, my tolerance for this place is much higher than yours..."

"Of course I believe you."

His Excellency Arakiel still hadn't made a sound. Facing a Persuader who had actually worked up the nerve to flip the table, Fu Qian stared down the empty Corridor and finally spoke.

"But I'll pass on going inside. It really is getting late, and I'm actually just here to say goodbye."

"Goodbye..."

Those words clearly left the Persuader bewildered.

"Are you joking?"

"All feasts under heaven must disperse. Speaking like that will only add to the sorrow of parting, old friend."

Fu Qian simply let out a world-weary sigh.

"We will meet again another day if Fated."

"Oh... so when are you leaving?"

The Persuader sounded like he couldn't take much more of this.

"Ten."

Yet the only answer he got was a cold, hard number.

Fu Qian looked up, as if watching an invisible clock.

"Ten?"

"Nine."

"Huh?"

"Eight."

"Wait!"

By the time Fu Qian counted down to the third number, the air by the nearest door began to warp, and a figure rapidly materialized.

So worried about his old friend, the Persuader had completely abandoned guarding the dream, letting it shatter.

"Seven."

Unfortunately, the only reply he received was yet another cold number.

"You..."

"Six."

Ring...

With five seconds left on the countdown, a crisp bell rang out.

The last glimpse the Persuader caught of his old friend in his field of vision was of him shaking a Transparent Handbell.

In the next moment, there was nothing but empty air.

The process was so natural and seamless that one couldn't help but deeply suspect he had simply turned invisible on the spot.

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