Eldritch Horror Theatre

So it probably wasn't just a simple case of excessive particulate matter.

Struggling to expand his lungs, Fu Qian recalled the sensations he had experienced along the way and quickly reached a conclusion.

Although the atmosphere was genuinely suffocating, his difficulty breathing hadn't ramped up smoothly.

It had spiked into sudden intensity the exact moment Old Man Yin-Yang Hair smashed his incense burner.

While this could be chalked up to his physical endurance reaching its limit, the Mirage of Smoke fading before his eyes made Fu Qian lean toward a more supernatural possibility.

For instance, because he had been expelled from the faction, he was now being rejected by this place—and that rejection was growing stronger by the second.

Another point supporting this theory was that the heaviness in his lungs was mirrored almost synchronously in his mind.

Suppression, exhaustion, thoughts turning sluggish and stagnant... This wasn't even the first time he had felt this way.

Earlier, when he led the Brotherhood members to hold the line and watched Madam Silk Scarf and her companion's performance, a similarly adverse sensation had flashed through him for an instant.

Furthermore, the mirage in his vision genuinely was disappearing, as if he had lost the right to perceive it.

"How does it feel?"

While Fu Qian carefully analyzed the sensation, Old Man Yin-Yang Hair took the initiative to ask.

"The Brotherhood never forces people to stay, provided they can withstand the Mind Beast Punishment... One-third of the time has already passed. I hope you can continue to hold on."

Not only that, he even offered his profound encouragement.

...

Actually, if you hadn't said anything, the pressure might have been stronger. Speaking up just makes you look insecure.

The latter half of the old man's statement sounded almost open-minded, slightly contradicting the Brotherhood's usual image.

Fu Qian didn't necessarily doubt his sincerity, but he still thought speaking up like that undermined the man's dignity.

Of course, it might also have had to do with the pressure Fu Qian himself was exuding.

Even the weaker party could weaponize passive aggression.

The old man's words somewhat verified his earlier speculation: this was no ordinary suffocation, but the mental torment known as the Mind Beast Punishment.

Once someone joined the Brotherhood, they had to endure this torment to leave—and there was even a standard time limit for it.

Combined with his earlier deduction, the countdown must have started the moment the incense burner shattered.

And ever since then, the old man had been waiting for him to show signs of agony.

Unfortunately, he had been met with nothing but passive aggression.

Even though the face belonging to He Lun had been torn off before entering this Great Hall, Fu Qian still maintained precise control over every muscle, keeping his expression completely unchanged.

It wasn't that the punishment was too light. On the contrary, Fu Qian completely understood why the Brotherhood used it as their ultimate torture.

Even the name was incredibly fitting.

Mind Beast—reducing a person to livestock on a mental level.

This sensation was absolutely terrible, especially for the lucky ones who believed they had stepped into the realm of bliss.

Even if it fell far short of the Inhuman Samsara they so feared, that untethered sense of withering away was still comparable to dropping a realm in cultivation.

From this perspective, the Brotherhood using it for internal discipline was almost too brutal.

A clear example was right in front of him: the original owner of this body would rather run to the Church and repent for over two years than exit through this "official method," perfectly illustrating the terrifying deterrence of the torture.

It was just a pity that the continuously accumulating torture hadn't manifested on Fu Qian in the slightest. The old man had finally reached his limit and decided to catalyze it with words.

"Your performance is astonishing. It seems you truly gained a lot over these past two years... I hope you continue to gain even more."

Given that Fu Qian still showed no reaction, the old man continued his encouragement, his tone as gentle as a Saint's.

...

So, did He Lun's incense burner automatically extinguish because he died?

But until it was smashed just now, his own incense burner had looked perfectly normal, and it had even contributed to the wondrous spectacle before him...

So, was that because this body hadn't died? Or was it because the original owner's spirit hadn't died?

People of the jianghu do not fuss over trifles. Although the old man was essentially just dialing up the pressure, Fu Qian was genuinely trying to find more insights.

For example, the question he had held since the very beginning: where exactly did this body come from?

Judging by the completion of his phase one task, he had indeed ascended to the First Heaven, allowing him to forcibly seize this physical body.

But why this one?

Had the original will died long ago, leaving behind a walking corpse that was easiest to occupy?

Or had it randomly selected some unlucky bastard and directly annihilated or suppressed his will?

Regardless of the explanation, it inevitably made one wonder: if he broke through to another Heaven, what form would it take?

Up to now, although this realm of bliss hadn't displayed many transcendent powers, it still featured plenty of idealistic elements.

Therefore, any speculation on how to break through couldn't help but become increasingly abstract.

At the same time, the mastermind behind the scenes wasn't actively trying to kill him, which seemed to suggest that purely physical destruction wasn't particularly effective in this idealistic realm.

As the weaker party, this sounded like a good thing at first.

But for Fu Qian, there was an obvious drawback staring him in the face: if he was this hard to kill, how was he supposed to eliminate that ancient entity when the time came?

Stay true to the initial resolve to achieve the final outcome. The task conditions were firmly set in place.

"Of course I've gained a lot."

Amidst his deductions, Fu Qian could feel that his humanity had already diminished quite a bit, his will being pushed little by little toward the edge of a dark abyss.

However, relying on his rich experience with not being human, he forcibly maintained his verbal fluency through pure logical patching. The moment he opened his mouth, he successfully continued his passive aggression—along with some active aggression.

"And whether you want to hear it or not, I'm prepared to share it selflessly..."

At that moment, He Lun's incense burner was back in Fu Qian's hand, being juggled like a discus.

"What are you trying to do—"

The next second, the discus was indeed thrown out, accurately striking Brother Thick Eyebrows to the side and stuffing both his words and his forward step right back down his throat.

"You—"

The old man's encounter was even more straightforward. He had only managed to spit out a single word before Fu Qian casually snatched up another incense burner and smashed out several of his pearly white teeth.

Amidst the chaotic sounds of collision, the Brotherhood's incense hall was instantly desecrated into a total mess.

Come, let me see your profound insights into this Realm of Bliss.

Feeling no psychological fluctuation over his own atrocities, Fu Qian looked toward the original location of the Mirage of Smoke and offered a word of encouragement in his heart to a certain invisible existence as he wreaked havoc in the incense hall.

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