Eldritch Horror Theatre

I know you're desperate, but I hope you get even more desperate.

What was that term again? Edging?

Desire, fear, agony, and madness. He could well imagine how much that concoction was fermenting inside Brother Peeker's head.

And his current actions were, he believed, just as vile as slapping someone awake right in the middle of a wet dream.

The source of his desire was gone.

Who knew if this jarring loss would be enough to make Brother Peeker develop a heartfelt hatred toward everything around him.

...

Exactly what kind of action could help someone leave the Inner World?

So far, there was exactly one precedent: Jean, the waitress at the breakfast shop.

But if he truly wanted to use it as a guideline for action, that conclusion was far from enough.

At the time, Jean hadn't even realized the anomaly she was in. In other words, her cognitive entrapment had been much lighter by comparison.

Given Brother Peeker's current state, pulling out a coin and making him guess again was impossible.

Fortunately, Fu Qian had never considered relying on an experience that was so clearly difficult to replicate.

So, on this continuously descending Road of No Return, the essence behind this situation was exactly what he had been pondering all along.

Assuming his earlier theory held true—that these people could fall into the Inner World because their still-living selves inside served as an Anchor Point.

Then, theoretically speaking, ending the process meant nothing more than severing their connection to that Anchor Point.

It was easy enough to think of a simple, crude method: just kill them directly.

With the Anchor Point gone, wouldn't they be instantly freed?

However, on one hand, he wasn't entirely sure if doing so would benefit him as a bystander, or if only the person in question would find salvation.

On the other hand, a glaringly obvious obstacle lay right in front of him—he couldn't kill them.

Jean's state had already been incredibly troublesome, and Brother Peeker had directly proven his own resilience to physical damage.

In summary, the simplest solution seemed highly unlikely. Fu Qian wasn't expecting the beautiful miracle of finding some targeted enchantment just lying around.

So if he couldn't handle it that way, what else could he do?

The core of the matter lay in severing the connection to the Anchor Point. Jean had already set an example: personal volition played a meaningful role.

At the time, Jean had desperately hoped to "guess wrong" so she could return to her boring job.

And he had delivered exactly that result. The moment the coin toss was revealed, it had guided her into believing with utmost certainty that she was in the Surface World, thus drawing a clear line between her and her Inner World self.

In Fu Qian's view, this was a relatively fundamental explanation of what had happened back then.

Applying it to the present, how could he make Brother Peeker yearn for the Surface World?

Whether through his own mutation, the oppression of thugs, or terrifying memories, Fu Qian believed any of those would spawn similar emotions.

However, as previously established, his degree of entrapment—even on a conscious level—was far deeper than Jean's. Pulling off self-deception wouldn't be that easy.

Not to mention, his desire for the "aroma" still tethered him here.

But that was fine. Desire had always been a double-edged sword.

Being immersed in the rolling red dust of the mortal world made it impossible to pull oneself free. But once the root of one's worldly desires was severed with a single strike, the sheer magnitude of that loss often yielded a relief akin to becoming a Buddha on the spot—

And the two things he had just done existed entirely to maximize that psychological drop.

Firing that shot at his head was a massive risk taken to pile on the pressure. By denying him what he sought, it forced his craving for the delicacy to spike completely.

And then "directly" destroying that delicacy in front of the cowardly man's eyes was the equivalent of severing the tether in one clean strike right when everything was stretched to its absolute limit.

The final result was creating the highest possible psychological drop under the current conditions, using it as a fuse to drive Brother Peeker's disgust toward his current Anchor Point to its absolute limit.

Of course, there was more than one possible outcome.

This was truly playing with fire next to a powder keg. There was a very real chance that his accumulated resentment would completely detonate and blast Fu Qian to smithereens.

"Evan was far more talented than you."

It didn't matter. He could always add fuel to the fire.

Amidst the piercing howls, Fu Qian neither dodged nor fired again. Instead, he reached out and plucked a piece of that special structure right out of the skull.

At the same time, he acted as if he couldn't even feel the burns caused by the flames, delivering a critique that was absolutely taboo for any artist.

...

Not only did he push the provocation to its absolute limit, but he also successfully dragged another character into the fray to draw fire.

The legendary art of psychological suppression was never that simple.

Sizzle—

Amidst the strange noise, something seemed to burst open, and a shower of rotten blood sprayed down from above.

Unfortunately, it still failed to extinguish the fire in Fu Qian's hand, and he still didn't try to dodge.

This was?

A seemingly familiar change occurred. The surroundings rapidly brightened, making the fire in his hand quickly dim in contrast.

However, there was no pain. Instead, alongside the scene before his eyes, everything quickly became clear.

It seemed he had returned.

Within the elusive flow of time, Fu Qian could finally make out the scene in front of him.

The familiar courtyard, the cluttered signboards, and more than just a single parked car.

The car he had been driving was right beside him, its door still open.

All of this seemed exactly as he had experienced it before, but in comparison, the scene before him was far livelier.

At a glance, he could already see more than one active figure moving about.

Old Man Hake had been right; this place truly was one of the few bustling spots in this town.

He had just happened to stumble into its dark side earlier and shouldn't have been prejudiced.

The only pity was that he was missing Brother Peeker's friendly greeting this time.

It wasn't that he wasn't still clinging to the wall like a gecko; it was just that from a distance, his head was drooping as if he had fallen asleep—indeed, he was asleep.

Walking up quietly, Fu Qian quickly confirmed that the man was still breathing and didn't have a single wound on his body.

His breathing was just a bit ragged, as if he wasn't sleeping very well.

As expected, no matter what horrific trauma someone suffered in the Inner World, it wouldn't reflect on their physical body?

Given how lively the surroundings were, the direct death of an Anchor Point should yield the exact same result.

It might even be a good thing, saving them from ever having to enter that place and suffer its terrors again—but that only applied to them.

Even just a moment ago, Fu Qian had had absolutely no intention of trying that method to escape. In his eyes, the result would most likely just be a direct reset.

Everyone's constitution was different. His own aching lungs were proof enough. Beyond that—

Fu Qian didn't wake Brother Peeker up to catch up. He looked down at the two fingers he had used for pulling chestnuts from the fire.

There were no burn marks, but instead, their top two segments were suffused with a vibrant, life-filled cyan, as if their insides had been stuffed with emerald-green cotton.

Acting cool came at a price. It seemed that something had seeped through the flames and infected his body.

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