Eldritch Horror Theatre

Life was truly beautiful.

As dusk fell and streetlights flared to life, it was time for every household to fire up their stoves for the final comforting meal of the day.

The doors and windows of these old houses were never particularly well sealed. For Fu Qian, a simple sniff was enough to tell exactly what his neighbors were having for dinner, or even if they had accidentally mistaken light soy sauce for dark.

But considering most of them were elderly, they might not be master chefs, yet with half a lifetime of experience under their belts, they could at least tell their condiments apart.

Sitting on the sofa, Fu Qian confirmed no one had made such a rookie mistake in the time it took him to stretch.

Pleased as he was, of course, he didn't dawdle. He activated his Imprint and returned.

Then he donned his mask and made a second spatial jump.

He had to admit that the more he used The World Technique, the more profound it felt.

When he reappeared in Eldest Miss Wen's mansion, the surroundings were still quiet.

Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of crescent-shaped arcs radiating a pure aura danced through the air in exquisite trajectories, ultimately plunging straight toward Chief Yuan's position.

Fortunately, the latter was clearly good at taking advice—like his earlier suggestion to focus entirely on defense.

At this moment, the sphere woven from intersecting black bands had expanded a bit compared to when he left, lacking even the slightest flaw.

A single glance showed that she was pouring everything into her defense; she hadn't even released her flexible whip to counterattack.

As a result, even with a staggering number of arcs crashing and tearing into it from all directions, they only managed to make the target look like a black sesame ball rolled in white sugar. Breaking through would still take time.

Of course, breaking through was never the primary goal anyway.

The proof of this was how the hand constantly manifesting those crescent arcs paused for a split second the moment he appeared.

He had said it before—he was an expert at patiently wearing things down.

...

Its methods were truly formidable; his earlier guesses hadn't been an exaggeration.

Even in the Blood Crusade State, His Excellency the Prison Archangel could actually verify whether he was still there.

The reason for Chief Yuan's sudden spike in defensive pressure was simple: he had genuinely taken off his mask and left while in the Blood Crusade State.

He had returned to the Real World and taken a brief vacation over there, just long enough to stretch his back.

And this action, which theoretically should have been entirely covert, had prompted the Prison Archangel—who had been performing exceptionally well in their contest of patience—to reveal itself and subject Chief Yuan to a frantic bombardment.

Aside from it being able to confirm whether he was merely invisible or truly gone, there was almost no other explanation.

Therefore, now that he had returned, Chief Yuan was no longer its priority.

It had simply been using this method, treating a dead horse as if it were alive, to force him to come back.

As for why it wanted to force him back, that question was even simpler—

Watching the blazing white Greatsword rapidly taking shape in a reverse grip by the entity, Fu Qian immediately retreated without blinking, dodging a sweeping strike aimed to slice him in half.

Clearly possessing astonishing confidence in its physical combat skills, and unwilling to risk a direct clash of powers, the adversary had decisively opted for close-quarters combat to secure a better opportunity for a killing blow.

Even though the sword cleaved through nothing but empty air, space and time themselves seemed to tremble.

For a moment, Fu Qian genuinely suspected that if he had stayed in place and tried to use Blood Crusade to dodge, he likely wouldn't have escaped the fate of being cut in two.

Just like what Classmate Su Gao had done back in the Sacred Night Capital.

As for why he hadn't used Blood Crusade?

With things having progressed this far, and after a round of probing, it was clearly time to bring out the trump cards.

It was a Tier 2 Transcendent, after all. Just because it hadn't displayed cross-dimensional tracking methods earlier didn't mean it lacked them entirely.

Since it had chosen close-quarters combat, it must have deemed it the optimal choice for the current situation. This move was most likely factored into its calculations, so how could he not guard against it?

In short, its methods were superb and its mind remained calm. This opponent was indeed performing well.

But unfortunately, the Prison Archangel had still chosen the wrong opponent.

Who knew how many heroes existed in this world, but those who dared to compete with this seat in the sword path were likely not even one in ten thousand—

"Sword Come."

With a cold smirk and a voice of absolute calm, Fu Qian raised one hand and grasped at the empty air.

The sheer momentum of the gesture made even His Excellency the Prison Angel choose to abandon its pursuit for a moment, focusing entirely on standing guard.

Of course, that didn't mean it did nothing. Another Greatsword, seeming to be composed of clustered feathers, rapidly took shape in its empty hand.

Its efficiency in transforming into a dual-wielding swordsman was so high that a blood-red blade in Fu Qian's right hand had only just formed an outline before—Pfft!

This race was ultimately interrupted by a strange noise, while illusory feathers seemed to splash out from His Excellency the Prison Angel's chest.

Fuu—

Opposite it, Fu Qian casually blew across the muzzle of Mercy in his left hand, entirely abandoning the half-formed "sword" in his right.

...

How could the vastness and profundity of the sword path be fathomed by someone like you, having eyes but no pupils?

At that moment, meeting the entity's radiant, glowing eye sockets, Fu Qian scoffed coldly in his mind.

This Iai Technique he had executed was once tempered with the help of Emperor Yasui, a New God of her generation.

What had manifested in his right hand was nothing more than a Sword Formula.

Of course, His Excellency the Prison Angel was clearly not a pushover. It was hard to say how effective a simple trick of secretly advancing through Chencang would be.

Therefore, Fu Qian, who was never overly optimistic, had chosen to layer on an application of Suffocation.

This innate effect of Mercy, which effectively reduced the probability of being perceived, truly grasped the essence of a hidden blade wounding its mark, ultimately achieving excellent results.

"...You're actually still messing with that thing!"

Even Chief Yuan sent her congratulations after the successful strike.

Though the pressure on her had drastically dropped, her absolute defense still didn't reveal a single gap, yet she clearly had the energy to observe the outside now.

"Careful... I can't sense any damage on it at all."

After expressing indignation that Fu Qian had opted for such a joke of an attack, Yuan Shan obviously recalled his usual impenetrable demeanor, quickly lowering her tone to offer a dutiful warning.

So this was why she could only put all her points into defense right now.

Receiving this sense of helplessness, Fu Qian felt no dissatisfaction; he only let out a sigh.

Chief Yuan, who was similarly skilled in ranged combat, clearly hadn't delved deeply into the path of critical strikes.

The physical damage was negligible, of course. But why was His Excellency the Prison Angel, who could sense this far better than she could, standing completely still right now?

Putting Mercy away, Fu Qian put on a sinister grin, crossing his two transformed, ferocious giant claws over his chest, standing diametrically opposed to the dual-wielding angel before him without yielding a single step.

He had even specially polished the sharp claws on his right hand, just to match the aesthetics of his opponent's two Greatswords.

Calamity plus the Boon of Release. Bearing these two blessings, do you still have the courage to let this seat witness your Instant Thousand Strikes?

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