Eldritch Horror Theatre

Clang!

The sound was still crisp, but in a completely different way.

Fu Qian "removing" his Glove and his fist reaching the opponent happened almost simultaneously.

And the Plain Knight did not disappoint, instantly stepping up to meet the attack head-on.

Given the angle of Fu Qian's strike, it still blocked with that massive shield.

Amidst the violent clash of power, the seemingly indestructible Wordless Stele was punched straight through, leaving a hideous, gaping hole.

Compared to providing self-defense, wearing the Glove was primarily about protecting his opponents.

"Chastisement" clearly required some rather strict conditions to trigger.

For instance, this gift from the Red Moon gave his physical strikes the properties of an Air Bullet, meaning they weren't completely unstoppable.

With a successful strike landed, Fu Qian retreated again, dodging the opponent's counterattack while inspecting the hole he had created.

It truly just looked like a piece of torn metal—nothing special.

However, as he dodged the second punch chasing after him, Fu Qian finally noticed something bizarre: the hole was repairing itself as if it were alive, doing so with a smoothness akin to time flowing backward.

Yet, no matter how he looked at it, the material appeared to be lifeless metal with no Transcendent Tier properties, and it was definitely not liquid metal.

Faced with this peculiar change, Fu Qian frowned slightly and pulled away even faster. He then threw another backhand punch, only this time, his target was the adjacent wall.

Boom!

Amidst the deafening crash, a terrifyingly massive crater appeared.

With almost no delay, the shattered stone and brick began to repair themselves, as if they, too, were alive.

This place really was strange. It wasn't just the obstacle blocking his path; it was everything here.

Silently coming to this conclusion, Fu Qian didn't dodge the massive shield sweeping horizontally toward him again. Instead, he directly activated the Blood Crusade.

Amidst the forceful shriek of tearing wind, the shield bash completely missed.

Not only that, but the attack ground to a halt. The Plain Knight stood rooted to the spot, looking as if it had lost its target.

Plenty of power, but its perception didn't seem very sharp.

While making this mental critique, Fu Qian had already slipped past the obstacle as intense agony swept over his entire body.

...

It felt like swimming through a river of broken glass, the sharpness utterly impossible to ward off.

In that instant, to avoid being entirely scrapped, Fu Qian had fully dismissed his Armor.

The flesh subsequently exposed to the attack instantly became riddled with a thousand gaping wounds.

He could move while in the Blood Crusade State, but any movement directly drained his Health Bar. It wasn't as if he had never experienced something similar, but this severity was still completely exaggerated.

Not to mention, the previous tide had already caused him quite a bit of wear and tear.

Re-estimating the remaining duration of his Pseudo-God Incarnation, Fu Qian didn't rush to activate the King of the Abandoned Prison, nor did he turn back. The next moment, bearing a body that was practically falling apart, he plunged straight down, heading deeper into the building.

It wasn't necessarily easier on his Health Bar than just outright killing the knight, but it definitely saved time.

When Fu Qian reappeared, he found himself in a space with a noticeably different layout.

In fact, this was exactly why he had chosen to come here.

Aside from the square corridor, it appeared to be yet another dead end.

He didn't have to walk much further before encountering a dense row of iron bars.

He had to admit, this place was truly lively. Through the gaps, he could clearly see a figure huddled inside the narrow space, looking exactly like a prisoner locked in solitary confinement.

Even though the door wasn't actually closed.

From this vantage point, everything was clear at a glance. The small cell looked exceptionally sturdy, but the door wasn't locked. In fact, it was left slightly ajar, projecting a very hospitable, open-door vibe.

Yet, despite these circumstances, the prisoner seemed to have lost all yearning for freedom, merely keeping his head down as if quietly awaiting death.

Could it be fear of a sting operation?

Without needing to look back, Fu Qian knew that if he retreated back up this corridor, there was more than one Plain Knight standing guard.

Why was he so sure, and how did he know they weren't just decorations?

Simple. The clanking footsteps of those walking iron suits were far too loud.

It seemed that the deeper one went, the more active they became. They had practically begun a full patrol.

Even if they were heavy, sluggish, and mechanical, like well-wound clockwork toys.

And the loudest footsteps among them were actively drawing closer.

Under these circumstances, the probability that the prisoner refused to leave through the open door out of fear of entrapment—worrying they would be dragged back and given a harsher sentence—didn't seem completely zero.

As for why he felt the person inside possessed such complex psychological activity?

Because at a glance, this figure was entirely different from those canned iron knights. That was undoubtedly a human shape, roughly the same height as his own, with a somewhat swollen face, and wearing ragged clothes.

Just like him.

Fu Qian looked down at his own body. Before showing himself just now, since his Armor had been stowed away, he had made a point to outfit himself with some clothes.

Though, after enduring the equivalent of death by a thousand cuts along the way, the clothes were now just as battered and shredded as his physical flesh.

With a sense of kindred spirits cherishing each other, Fu Qian slipped sideways into the prison cell without brushing the iron door in the slightest.

The air remained dead silent. His gaze from above did not elicit any reaction from the other party.

However, Fu Qian didn't say a word, either. Instead, in the next moment, he reached under his tattered clothes. When he pulled his hand back, he slowly drew out the Odd-Shaped Bone Knife.

It was nearly as long as a person was tall, featuring a narrow blade and a surface that looked as if it were coated in a layer of glue.

"You..."

The prisoner finally raised his head. With eyes narrowed almost into slits, he stared at Fu Qian's face, which was as white as peeling plaster.

...

That's right. The jacket Fu Qian had just fashioned for himself was the exact same style worn by the White-Faced Man he had encountered in Akons.

Beyond that, it also included the body type, the facial features, and even the white bone ash smeared all over his skin...

Suspecting this opponent to be an immensely powerful senior who had mingled deep within the Mind World for many years, Fu Qian was equally quite curious about him.

Unfortunately, the other party hadn't been fond of communicating. From beginning to end, all Fu Qian managed to learn was the name of his weapon.

And based on the experience from his last exploration, the Night Watchers were clearly keeping a close watch on these bubbles.

Fu Qian believed they wouldn't fail to notice a place as special as this.

Under these circumstances, when considering what appearance to mold for himself, Fu Qian's very first thought was Brother White-Faced Man.

It was better to be safe than sorry. Even though it was impossible for him to stay in here for too long, what if he bumped into one of the Night Watchers' surveillance devices?

On one hand, he could frame the man and shift the blame. On the other hand, perhaps he could even glean more information about Brother White-Faced Man by observing the Night Watchers' reactions.

For example, this uniquely styled prisoner in front of him might just be one of their informants.

"Fracture Cleaver..."

Amidst these beautiful fantasies, Fu Qian stared into those narrowed eyes looking his way. Caressing the blade, he spoke in a perfect imitation of the White-Faced Man's tone.

'How is that possible...'

This line wasn't spoken by the prisoner. Rather, it was the inner voice Fu Qian casually dubbed for him based on his reaction.

The other party seemed to genuinely recognize him on some level, while also clearly appearing quite shocked.

He also completely lacked the excitement one should have when being rescued.

Bang—

Not only that, but amidst the loud slam, the cell door had already been pulled firmly shut by the man.

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