Eldritch Horror Theatre

This was probably the legendary act of seeking unnecessary hardship.

His various senses seemed intact, but he had almost entirely lost the ability to process the information.

Under this mental death by a thousand cuts, Fu Qian's remaining shred of energy was only enough to confirm that Brother Gravekeeper hadn't yet left his line of sight.

But that was it. Continuing any verbal communication was well beyond him.

Fortunately, after witnessing his dedication to the path, it seemed Brother Gravekeeper merely sighed in admiration and had little desire to chat for the moment.

At the same time, every second seemed to stretch on endlessly.

It wasn't an illusion. After feeling like his brain had been diced into coconut milk cubes nine consecutive times, Fu Qian realized he hadn't even finished a single breath.

This was truly... fantastic.

Although he still wasn't sure what had caused this change, and even though his high-speed thoughts allowed him to savor the maximized pain in excruciating detail, for a project racing against the clock, saving time like this was no bad thing.

Of course, these were ultimately just minor details. The most important thing was what would happen once the pain reached its absolute peak and all traces of bliss were gone. Would a comforting turning point finally appear?

He wasn't too far from that point now, and Fu Qian had no doubt he would eventually reach it.

...

Your sun... has set.

Every fraction of accumulated pain made the eradication of bliss that much harder, like trying to vacuum out the final few molecules of air.

Yet, at a certain moment, Fu Qian finally realized the balance between yin and yang had completely shattered. Only a twisted, grotesque darkness remained connected to his every nerve.

It was so overwhelming that his nerves couldn't even process the slightest sense of accomplishment for this monumental feat.

What made the darkness even more profound was that time seemed to stop completely in that instant. This pain was destined to become an eternity.

But Fu Qian still didn't miss bliss in the slightest. Instead, he cherished the opportunity to carefully savor the sensation and cobble together a bit of logical thought.

Judging from his previous experiences, for instance, the slowing of time seemed to occur in tandem with the dissipation of bliss.

To a certain extent, this proved once again the transcendent nature of the concept of bliss relative to the Second Heaven.

Therefore, the desperate situation before him could actually be interpreted as good news. It meant he had likely found the correct ladder to climb up to the Third Heaven.

In response to this good news, Fu Qian's strategy was to maintain the status quo, refusing to give bliss even the slightest chance to mount a counterattack.

This held true no matter how tempting that feeling was in his current circumstances.

And it held true regardless of whether enduring this torture still held any meaning while time itself was stagnant.

...

Within the darkness, the torment was already immeasurable.

Looking on the bright side, however, Fu Qian clearly knew that at most, only a legendary split second of actual time had passed.

If he did the division, the ratio of his perception speed to time was approaching infinity.

Such a rare experience should count as a form of spiritual wealth, right?

Using logic to derive a sliver of optimism for himself, Fu Qian maintained his chosen course without any wavering.

His information processing capabilities were completely annihilated. Even though Fu Qian believed his sight and hearing were still functioning, his brain couldn't present so much as a single freeze-frame image.

This was undoubtedly an alternative kind of Black Box, to the point that it reminded him of the Sweet Dream Head Cage back in the Warehouse.

[It is said that absolute self-isolation will give birth to the Wisdom of the Deity.]

This item description seemed quite fitting for his current situation. He just didn't know if the result would be equally optimistic—it was.

At a certain moment, Fu Qian was absolutely confident he hadn't given bliss any chances, yet a sliver of 'light' seemed to pierce through the 'darkness'.

It was an alternative kind of 'light', distinct from bliss.

It was milder, more real... He was very certain of this.

It quickly spread across his consciousness, dispelling the darkness and even slightly soothing the pain—he could see again.

In that moment, Fu Qian realized his vision had recovered, and his thoughts became as smooth as if they had been freshly oiled.

But where was the Church?

...

Although the color tones were slightly dim, the place before his eyes still shared a somewhat similar art style with the City of Bliss.

However, there wasn't a single trace left of the White-Headed Sanctuary he had worked so hard to find.

Standing in a narrow alley, Fu Qian looked down at his completely changed attire and fell into deep thought.

The clothing style was older, but his skin was far more lustrous. It was obvious he had swapped into yet another new body and was currently lying on the ground in an awkward posture.

"Are you all right?"

More than one pair of hands was trying to help him up while a voice asked softly. It seemed he had just taken a fall.

At the same time, he could see that the glazed Bright Light was no longer present in this town. It had been replaced by a much more genuine sense of light and warmth.

The same held true for what drifted through his own heart.

In the blink of an eye, the intense pain brought on by the eradication of bliss had already been vastly soothed.

Although this alternative light wasn't as intense, it felt much more real.

So after suffering through the ultimate darkness, he had actually waited long enough to see the light?

Was this the Third Heaven?

Although he couldn't yet determine what the exact underlying logic was, the notification for a drop in SAN Value hadn't appeared.

But he couldn't forget that when he 'woke up' in the Second Heaven last time, he hadn't received a clear notification for a SAN Value drop either.

Theoretically speaking, he could even consider his overly pessimistic hypothesis to have been partially falsified.

And by relying on his professional scientific background and sheer execution ability, he had achieved yet another instance of shattering the void with terrifying efficiency.

Choosing bliss as his route had been the correct decision—right?

"I'm fine, thank you."

These thoughts and the sights before him flashed through his mind like lightning. In the next moment, Fu Qian offered a polite word of thanks, locked his consciousness directly onto this new 'light', and repeated his old trick, violently expelling it.

He completely ignored whether his freshly nourished nerves were howling in pain as a result.

...

Apologies, but an expert was never so easily optimistic.

His previous train of thought was certainly logical, but on the flip side, if every Heaven truly required SAN Value as an admission ticket, didn't that mean the scene before him was just an illusion?

The more natural and beautiful it looked, the more vicious the truth behind it had to be.

Don't forget, he had yet to see any machinations from the pair of eyes hiding behind the scenes.

And what if he was indeed just being overly sensitive? What if this was truly the Third Heaven, and the light emerging from the darkness had genuinely guided him?

Then he would let it guide him one more time.

The new sensation of pleasure that had replaced bliss was still echoing through his mind.

If he copied his previous successful experience and expelled it once again, perhaps there was a certain probability that he could continuously skip levels and head straight for the Fourth Heaven?

In conclusion, regardless of whether this was a true or false Third Heaven, repeating his old trick was the correct choice.

He hadn't studied game theory for nothing.

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