Eldritch Horror Theatre

The assassin chose to pretend he didn't recognize him.

He even feigned complete ignorance about the earlier Academy team.

His motives for doing so were certainly thought-provoking.

Watching Zhao Ran's reaction, Fu Qian found the situation increasingly amusing.

Theoretically, there was no logical flaw in playing dumb.

The team had been in the open while he hid in the shadows. Fu Qian wasn't supposed to know him in the first place.

Finding an excuse wouldn't be hard either—for instance, he could just claim to be terrified by Fu Qian's current display of power.

A mere Academy student had mysteriously vanished alongside the team, only to return shortly after with an absurd, explosive surge in strength.

Given that turn of events, it was perfectly normal for the assassin to be questioning reality.

Putting on an innocent face to probe for information first was a perfectly logical move.

Though for someone trapped in a place like this for over half a year, pulling that off couldn't have been easy.

Following that logic, Fu Qian wouldn't have to worry about his own safety for the time being.

To Zhao Ran, encountering someone who had successfully escaped only to return was an absolute godsend.

All his subsequent actions could naturally be chalked up to coaxing an escape method out of Fu Qian.

"Who says? I got out, didn't I?"

With that in mind, Fu Qian casually emphasized that fact.

Uh...

That was undeniably hard to refute. Zhao Ran instantly choked on his words.

"Are you saying you can't get out? How long have you been trapped here?"

Unfortunately, he had no idea the man standing before him was absolutely ruthless at rubbing salt in the wound. Feigning sudden realization, Fu Qian looked Zhao Ran up and down and pressed the issue.

...

"A few months, I guess."

The assassin's face turned incredibly sour, but after a moment of mental preparation, he actually confessed to his predicament.

"A few months? And you aren't dead yet?"

Fu Qian shot him a look of sheer disbelief, frowning as he inspected him again.

Compared to Old Man Feng Yunhong from before, this guy's complexion was infinitely better.

Though his clothes were little more than rags, there wasn't a single fresh wound on his exposed skin.

"Why wouldn't I be? Unlike you, I don't engage in pointless, suicidal stunts... Besides, you don't have to worry about starving to death in this place."

Zhao Ran shot back with a cold sneer, not forgetting to throw in a bit of mockery.

"You mean eating the things outside? There's certainly a rich variety out there."

Fu Qian gave a slight nod, surprisingly unfazed by the claim that one wouldn't starve. From his expression, he was already pondering which of the local flora and fauna had the best texture.

"Sorry, but I haven't eaten any of them. What I'm saying is that you simply won't starve to death in this place."

Zhao Ran was quick to shoot down his assumption.

"The state of flesh and blood in here is entirely unique. Even if you don't eat or drink, your body will eventually reach an equilibrium. It won't degrade over time."

That much was true. Otherwise, given how many years Old Man Feng had spent here, his regular bodily functions would have produced quite a few cesspools by now.

"Ah, I see... I got out of here too fast last time, so I didn't really notice."

Pleased with the assassin's honesty, Fu Qian muttered to himself, casually twisting the knife a little more.

"That's exactly what I want to know... If you really were here before, how did you leave? The edge of this place is basically a seamless wall."

The desire for freedom trumped all else. The heavily mocked assassin took a deep breath and forced himself to ask the core question.

"I see... But first, I want to know who 'they' are."

Unfortunately, Fu Qian knew full well he held a powerful bargaining chip and immediately laid out his own terms.

...

"If you'd walked a little faster, you might already know the answer."

Once they entered a transactional mode, Zhao Ran actually seemed much more in his element. He turned back around and continued leading the way.

Fu Qian wasn't one to fuss over a minor attitude problem, so he briskly followed along.

Just as previously mentioned, even though it was merely a toppled Stone Tower, there was a whole other world hidden inside.

By Fu Qian's estimation, the distance they had walked had long surpassed the actual height of the Stone Tower. Yet, the passage kept going, stretching deeper underground.

This place called the Furnace really was worth a second exploration.

"So what is this place, exactly? The fruit of your labor over the last few months?"

Highly amused by the sight, Fu Qian asked about its origins.

Despite his earlier mental preparations, the sheer blatantness of the mockery almost made the assassin lose his composure. Even the rapidly thickening darkness couldn't hide his grimace.

For Fu Qian, a minor drop in visibility was a non-issue.

His overly relaxed stride seemed to be putting a considerable amount of psychological pressure on the assassin.

"Unfortunately, no... This is the fruit of 'their' labor."

A moment later, however, Zhao Ran bit the bullet and offered an interesting piece of information, coming to a sudden halt.

A window.

Along the way, Fu Qian had even been admiring the architectural style around them.

This underground passage was clearly patched together from various elements. It started as the interior of the Stone Tower, which transitioned into a winding corridor, though the path ahead of that was blocked off, forming a dead end.

And now, set into the side wall, stood a narrow, elongated window. It bore a heavy, distinctively religious style.

Even with a layout this chaotic, in a place like this, it still counted as a relatively smooth passageway.

That was precisely why Fu Qian had been curious if artificial factors were involved—and it sounded like they were.

"It was exactly because I shared your suspicions that I managed to find them... At first, I thought I was overthinking it, right up until the day I made it to the other side."

The window was a bit too small for an adult. This time, as Zhao Ran spoke, he gestured for Fu Qian to go first.

"Sounds like it's pretty amazing back there."

Fu Qian didn't stand on ceremony; he squeezed straight through the window.

...

It was indeed amazing.

It wasn't a trap. On the contrary, the lighting was actually better here, as if there were cracks in the ceiling above that reached the surface.

Thanks to the sudden increase in visibility, he could easily make out the wide, open space before him. It was, in fact, a toppled Church. Right now, he was standing directly on its interior wall.

Aside from that, there were two far more important discoveries.

First, even though they had been traveling underground, Fu Qian's memory and sense of direction gave him a fair amount of certainty that this place wasn't far from Old Man Feng's secret Base.

That's right—after all that winding and weaving, they had looped right back around.

Second, and far more uniquely, everything in sight—from the sideways walls to the shattered stone beams—was densely covered in patterns drawn with red pigment. They depicted four hands, connected at the ends, rotating counterclockwise.

It was the exact same special symbol he had seen more than once during the task back then.

Someone really had drawn these out long ago?

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