Eldritch Horror Theatre

Souls wither because of you, and the flesh is granted eternal peace.

Fu Qian had never forgotten the latter half of the King of the Abandoned Prison's honorific name.

And as fact after fact proved, the way souls withered seemed to be through fire.

Since all conditioned dharmas are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, and shadows, he might as well let the raging Frenzied Flame burn away his residual thoughts.

This mental prison was indeed extraordinary, and the little ones had hidden themselves quite well.

So if they were hard to find, he simply wouldn't bother searching.

Boasting a strike radius far more exaggerated than usual, the burning golden flames were far from just a visual effect.

In fact, because he was using his Tyrant Form, the structure of his tentacles felt different than usual to Fu Qian's perception.

Rather than wet flesh, they felt like riveted steel whips.

Boom!

The seawater was "convulsing"—a strange description, perhaps, but flawlessly fitting for that moment.

No solid barrier had been shattered; what imprisoned him was something far more abstract, like seawater that could never be severed by a blade.

But now, the seawater had been ignited.

When the metallic frenzy finally subsided, the visual limitation of an arm's length remained. Fu Qian couldn't see the wider results of his attack—but he believed in them.

The Tyrant had ignited the sea of mind, and the march of the apocalypse grew even more unbridled.

He still couldn't hear the wailing of young children, but at that moment, the gospel also came to an abrupt halt.

...

This strike from the Flame of Ill Omen was a towering sin; he invited Master Yuhun to evaluate it.

His earlier gratification at "Master Yuhun" choosing to resolve an inner demon through physical means had never been just talk.

With the sea of mind ignited, it wasn't hard to imagine what sort of fate would befall the countless fragile wills connected to it.

It was just slightly surprising that the world destroyer before him seemed equally unable to tolerate this change.

The hide-and-seek playground had been directly set ablaze. The hiding newborns being affected—which in turn stopped the gospel—was a very normal progression.

But the seemingly familiar claw strike now before his eyes was somewhat out of character with the Mother of Gospel's previous stance of using softness to overcome strength.

Outlined in dark fire, a giant claw similar to the one he had seen at Silver Mist Manor materialized directly inside his circular field of vision.

It was swifter and far more terrifying. Even the Tyrant, with his restricted perception, couldn't mount a calm response before his body was torn apart by the furious power.

Ever since he incarnated as the King of the Abandoned Prison, this was undoubtedly the heaviest injury he had suffered.

They were both fundamentally world destroyers; did she really want him dead that badly?

Roar—

Feeling the sheer force upon his body, Fu Qian sighed inwardly and roared out a Gospel Shockwave in return.

That's right, it was the very power he had fleeced from the entity before him.

And after shamelessly flaunting a pirated copy in front of the genuine article, Fu Qian smoothly took off his mask just before the second claw could land.

...

"It is fake history, after all. She doesn't really seem to recognize me..."

The path back to the Warehouse hadn't actually been cut off.

Having activated The World, Fu Qian found himself inside the Warehouse the very next instant, muttering to himself as he checked his body.

Her strike was truly ruthless, and its power level was genuinely high.

Even taking that hit head-on in his Mythical Form, he felt as if his gears and parts had been knocked flying.

Fortunately, after deactivating the form, injuries were always converted proportionally.

Even as he marveled, Fu Qian had already reverted to his Tier 2 Form.

The injuries on his body were shocking, and they were healing at an agonizingly slow pace—but they weren't fatal.

So why was that? Why had the Mother of Gospel suddenly become so aggressive?

Igniting the sea of mind was indeed a towering sin, but for an entity who reduced everything to dead silence the moment she acted, she didn't seem to have much standing to play champion of justice.

It was even harder to believe that she was acting out of pity for the collateral victims.

Could it be that, despite the severe devastation it suffered, the sea of mind was actually very important to this world destroyer?

If that were truly the case, then paying such a huge price to use this grand return-to-base maneuver wasn't a waste.

Silently reaching this speculative conclusion, Fu Qian didn't forget to observe his other rapidly depleting Health Bar.

Taking off the mask naturally took no effort; the so-called price referred to his wrestling match with "Master Yuhun" over who was the true inner demon.

He had experienced it during his first return to base: because of the special connection established by the other party entering the game as a piece, his healing technique via The World actually had limits.

Even if the flow of time outside was paused, since he theoretically only had a single Anchor Point left in the Academy, this action essentially made him akin to a deserter from a dueling arena.

His inner demon attributes were accumulating rapidly because of this, and eventually, he would be directly judged as the loser—which was perfectly fine.

Fu Qian casually picked up a few items from the table in front of him and directly activated the Ring of Favor's effect: Homecoming.

...

Half-Step Moon.

Back when he bravely seized the Record of True Transcription in the West Plain, he had tested and proven that he could jump straight here from the Warehouse, though he couldn't proceed to sync to anywhere else in the Bookstore World.

This time was no exception either.

As for why he came here?

Almost instantly, the radiance shed by the Red Moon concentrated upon him, making the repair of his wounds far more efficient.

But this was only a trivial benefit.

Because accumulating right alongside that acceleration were his inner demon attributes.

Time on the Half-Step Moon wasn't completely frozen. The last time he was here nursing his injuries, he had waited right up until the incident occurred on Wen Li's end.

And regarding his deathmatch with "Master Yuhun," this could be called an even more egregious act of desertion than returning to the Warehouse—and desertion was exactly what he wanted.

Imagine what the situation over in the "apocalypse" would be like if time wasn't stopped.

The Mother of Gospel was already brimming with murderous intent toward him. Answering her with a Gospel Shockwave—aside from blatantly flaunting his plagiarized gains to her face and stoking her killing intent even higher—obviously wouldn't yield any positive results.

And if her target suddenly vanished right as her rage gauge overflowed, how would things unfold next?

Nowhere to vent her anger?

How could she have nowhere to vent? He was just the inner demon; wasn't there still a main body over there?

If she couldn't find him, couldn't she find Master Yuhun?

He wondered if that opponent of his had a better place to hide from the Mother of Gospel's pursuit.

In short, it was very simple. His only goal in coming to the Half-Step Moon was to try and create an opportunity for "Master Yuhun" and the Mother of Gospel to spend a little alone time together in the apocalypse.

If he weren't worried about being instantly judged as the loser for crossing too vast a dimensional gap, Fu Qian would have even considered going straight home for a sip of water.

After all, back when he had been listening to the gospel, the pleasure flooding his mind had already been significantly purified. There was no need to worry too much about Young Master Qin and the others.

Of course, that didn't mean he could endlessly sit on the mountain to watch the tigers fight. The time he spent lingering here was being forcefully bought with the Health Bar of his deathmatch.

"Thank you."

His field of vision was so narrow that it wasn't even enough to observe the Red Moon hanging in midair, but Fu Qian still offered a polite thanks. A few seconds later, he put the mask back on.

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