Eldritch Horror Theatre

That Excellency was rather underwhelming.

Fu Qian's arrival undoubtedly attracted the priest's attention, especially since he had chosen such a classic seat.

However, Fu Qian's earlier assessment—that the old man had yet to recover from his previous shock—was confirmed once more.

The Old Man Priest merely cast a glance in his direction. Despite looking eager to act, he held back and ultimately remained silent.

But that earlier comment about being underwhelming was not meant for him.

In Fu Qian's eyes, there was no need to be overly harsh on a clergyman who did not even know the identity of the entity he served.

The critique was aimed at the object of his faith.

He had come to this Church fully aware that he bore the Seed of Ecstasy, all just to provoke that Stomach.

The plan had proceeded smoothly. The entity had recognized him, and from that moment on, the pleasure within his mind had begun to grow wildly.

Unfortunately, even now, he was genuinely plagued by his inner demon and overflowing with lustful thoughts, yet his body still showed no signs of any transcendent changes.

That was right. One of the reasons he had willingly engaged in such suicidal behavior was to practice drinking poison to quench his thirst, attempting to turn himself into a superhuman to secure an extra bargaining chip for the upcoming gamble.

It was just a pity that the Stomach's influence over the First Heaven seemed heavily restricted, much like this Church of His that lacked even a single Emblem.

The seething pleasure was currently confined to the mental realm.

Resisting this rot was far from easy, however, as the greatest significance of the Seed of Ecstasy was transforming the very core of the "self" into pleasure itself.

Perhaps this was why the inner demon was so difficult to eradicate.

Having already studied the essence of Ecstasy multiple times, Fu Qian let out a soft sigh. With eyes on nose, nose on heart, and his heart on the Golden Melon, he steadily stood back up.

Faced with his shocking actions and bizarre posture, the Old Man Priest merely watched him walk all the way out of the Church.

...

"What are you..."

Of course, no matter how surprised the old priest was, the shock he experienced could not compare to Godot's.

Godot had honestly stayed put without trying to run. As soon as Fu Qian got into the carriage, they resumed their journey.

After the carriage had traveled a fair distance, Godot stared at Fu Qian—who was gripping the Small Golden Melon Hammer with both hands and holding it up in front of his face like he was offering incense—and finally could no longer hold back his question.

It couldn't be helped. Not only was the posture incredibly eerie, but the very object being held up had shattered a skull right in front of him not long ago.

Just seeing it brandished like that was enough to make one's forehead turn cold.

"What are you afraid of?"

Exercising his strong sense of empathy, Fu Qian turned his head to look over.

The small hammer in his hands wobbled, making Godot's heart pound even harder. Ultimately, Fu Qian did not answer him, choosing instead to counter the question with another question.

"I wouldn't call it fear... I just don't understand."

Godot didn't lose too much face. Under such a death stare, he actually managed to maintain a modicum of composure.

"Even if you kill me, I will merely enter samsara once more. But your sins will only grow heavier. Why would you do this?"

Not only did he explain the source of his confidence, but he also tried to comprehend the logic behind Fu Qian's behavior.

"That's good. If you were still afraid, then Madam would have died for nothing."

Unfortunately, as a transcendent master, there was no way he would answer a question so rigidly. Fu Qian chuckled, bringing up the matter once again.

Driven by the pleasure raging in his mind, that chuckle was filled with endless implications and was highly infectious.

...

Madam would have died for nothing...

It wasn't visible on his face, but Fu Qian believed those words had definitely caused a massive uproar in Godot's heart.

The carriage remained utterly silent for a long time. The latter had clearly thought about a great deal.

Going against one's established beliefs was an incredibly difficult thing, but given the bloody death serving as a testament, Brother Godot should still have a chance at enlightenment.

"The sins we imagine are not actually sins. The answer to Transcendence actually lies within them..."

When he finally spoke, he had indeed gained some insight.

And his conclusion was not entirely unreasonable.

If the soul beneath this Skin before him was truly that Lu Ming from earlier, this was the most direct explanation he could think of.

"But after committing a grave sin, the suffering of the Inhuman Samsara is real. More than one person has described that experience..."

Of course, since he was still in the enlightenment phase, confusion was inevitable. A moment later, Godot raised an objection himself.

"Why must it be a grave sin? The guidance has always been right in front of your eyes, yet you stubbornly refuse to look at it, choosing instead to suffer the Burden of Causality."

The Golden Melon in Fu Qian's hands stopped wobbling. He was no longer so stingy with his words, seemingly somewhat satisfied with Godot's comprehension.

Right in front of our eyes, yet refusing to look... The Burden of Causality...

Though the phrasing was somewhat profound, for a group of people who had already suffered qi deviation from obsessing over this matter, all it usually took was a single nudge to pierce the paper-thin barrier.

"The Bliss Hopeful are everywhere—"

Without waiting for Godot, who sat frozen like a statue, to say anything, Fu Qian stared straight ahead and continued speaking.

"Some seek refuge in the weak, having one's view blocked by a single leaf, and extravagantly hope a single feather can cover their bodies.

"Some despise everything, exhausting all clever schemes, which is nothing more than flattery to shallow appearances.

"Little do they know that enduring samsara only rewards them with a body full of World Poison, never having truly opened their eyes even once...

"Therefore—"

His voice, eroded by the surging pleasure, combined with his bizarre yet profound words, created a sharp contrast while simultaneously holding a wondrous infectiousness.

After forcefully pushing through to finish his speech, Fu Qian turned to stare at Godot's knowledge-thirsty face, which was already struggling to maintain its composure.

"You need not fear the darkness. The time to devour the Black Lotus has come—now stop the carriage. We've arrived at our destination."

...

"What you just said... can I share it with the others?"

Before them was indeed the Brotherhood stronghold. Having almost missed their destination from being too absorbed in thought, Godot immediately halted the carriage upon the reminder, feeling a burst of tension.

However, when he looked back at the Golden Melon in Fu Qian's hands, he seemed to have calmed down slightly, likely due to what he had just heard.

Seeing the other man step directly out of the carriage, Godot couldn't resist confirming one more time.

"Can I share it with you?"

Fu Qian's attitude toward this was completely unbothered, merely tossing back another casual question.

He certainly didn't think this guy was driven by a spirit of sharing, wanting to teach this path of Transcendence to others. What he actually wanted to share was the risk.

After all, regardless of Fu Qian's origins or his actions, he was truly hard to trust. Since his speech just now was far too obscure, sharing it with others to create a few more test subjects would do Godot no harm.

But that was fine. The obscurity was entirely intentional.

Selfishness was human nature. If he explained it too clearly, what if the man decided to hoard the secret for himself?

Like right now.

"Tell me how to get into the place where they keep the incense burner without alarming these people outside."

Grabbing Godot by the neck with a backhand grip, Fu Qian dragged him straight off the carriage.

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