Eldritch Horror Theatre

'Ninety li is only halfway on a hundred-li journey. This path of corruption might indeed be too much for you to bear.'

The only one who had welcomed him had let go and departed just like that. Amid the solitude, Fu Qian sighed silently, bearing no intention to lay blame.

Although he wasn't sure if that thing even had a brain, the pressure of his current situation had undoubtedly increased exponentially.

Distance was never the key. The reason ninety li was only halfway on a hundred-li journey was that you never knew if a hundred li was actually the finish line—Boom!

Barely a dozen seconds later, a heavy impact rang out.

It was accompanied by a terrifying force that felt as though it could crush bones.

Even the bones of a Tyrant.

It was no longer as simple as falling from the sky and smashing into a mountain. The feedback force in that instant was fierce to the absolute extreme.

Even though at a glance, the actual material he had struck was flesh and blood.

And even though the Mist was still churning, it didn't stop Fu Qian from recognizing what lay beneath his feet.

To be honest, it even looked a bit familiar.

Alternating between fat and lean, red contrasting with white—it was chunks of organic matter, similar to what had just been wrapped around his hands.

Though the vast majority of it was arranged rather uniformly into individual human shapes—living human shapes.

Although they were entirely naked, Fu Qian noticed that they were actually breathing.

Of course, even so, it didn't mean his previous judgment was wrong.

All of these bodies, lying prone or supine, were piled together like sandbags, genuinely forming the shape of a hill.

...

'So I really did smash into a mountain just now? Isn't that a bit too literal?'

Imagination had always been important, but while it brought knowledge, it occasionally also brought confusion.

After easily recognizing that these stacked human bodies genuinely formed a hill, Fu Qian's mind briefly ran wild with the implications.

Flesh and blood obviously wouldn't yield the kind of tactile feedback he had just experienced. Even now, the sensation beneath his feet was exactly like standing on a slab of superalloy.

A group of people were arranged into a mountain, and then it genuinely possessed the properties of a mountain?

And just as he'd noted, this toughness was absolutely extraordinary.

Perhaps it still couldn't compare to the impenetrable abilities previously displayed by the Blood Clan of this world, but it had still reached a rather exaggerated level.

It might not be particularly tricky for him to handle, but for anyone else—especially someone of a lower Rank—dealing with this probably wouldn't be easy.

'Is this the Power of Precepts?'

He had to admit that the abilities of his target this time were truly quite special.

Fu Qian had never forgotten the Witch's description.

She had clearly mentioned that the Precept Angel was formed from the flesh, will, and Transcendent traits that still bore their restraints after the Law barrier of this world had shattered.

And wasn't the scene right in front of his eyes composed of stark-naked flesh and blood?

In Fu Qian's view, there was an extremely high probability that this mountain was a part of the Precept Angel.

The implications of this scene were clear. For one, it was obvious that his and the Witch's actions had already been detected. For another, the Precept Angel was indeed rather chaotic, opting to strike directly without a single word.

And its strategy of divide-and-conquer might not have been abandoned, although its allocation of targets seemed to be inverted from what he had previously assumed—he wasn't the one who had been banished; the Witch was.

The one the Precept Angel wanted to deal with first was him.

After ruthlessly evaluating his own situation, Fu Qian abruptly raised his head.

An eardrum-shattering thunderclap roared, seemingly illuminating even the Mist itself.

A bolt of blood-red lightning descended from the sky.

...

It was truly the color of blood; it wasn't even a metaphor.

Though he hadn't noticed it too late, the lightning still struck far too quickly.

Fu Qian didn't deliberately try to dodge it, opting instead to let it strike his body.

The terrifying impact, the scorching heat of the lightning—the ensuing sensations were incredibly classic.

In fact, according to Fu Qian's personal assessment, the level of power was quite exaggerated. It felt no weaker than the attacks he could unleash using Three Faces.

But if that was all there was to it, it wouldn't actually be anything too special.

After all, the "hill" beneath his feet had already served as a demonstration.

What truly gave him a peculiar impression was the scene that followed the impact.

Fu Qian silently looked at his own body, where a large patch of thick blood stained him.

But that wasn't his own blood.

Such an attack wouldn't leave him completely unscathed, but his injuries were far from this exaggerated.

That was the blood of the lightning.

Or rather, that majestic strike—which had been so incredibly classic in both power and form—was entirely composed of this very material.

As for where the material came from?

Boom—

Amidst another ear-splitting roar, Fu Qian raised his head to look up once more.

He saw that in this brief moment, the Mist had actually dissipated somewhat.

So much so that he could faintly make out human bodies up there, similar to the ones beneath his feet.

Only, they weren't piled up quite so tightly. Instead, they stretched and circled around in a strange manner, drifting as if completely weightless—just like patches of clouds.

...

'So this is the power of self-restraint? It's certainly an eye-opener.'

Fu Qian once again made no move to dodge. He evaluated the impact his body took, finding its power entirely undiminished.

And after repeatedly experiencing it firsthand, he gained a rather intuitive understanding of the Precept Angel's power.

When the Witch had introduced it, she mentioned the concept of actively seeking out restraints.

As for the power or authority that might be derived from this concept, it was easy to think of it as "dragging the opponent into one's own familiar domain." In other words, when fighting this kind of entity, it was highly likely that its "restraints" would be transferred over.

It would be just like the game rules set by the Serpent of Destiny in his recently completed task.

However, looking at it now, that didn't seem to be the case at all.

The essence of this power seemed to be that, upon subjecting itself to a restraint, it would correspondingly wield the power represented by that very restraint.

Such as a mountain peak, or a thundercloud.

Of course, Fu Qian wasn't planning on standing here forever as a human lightning rod.

After making his secondary confirmation, his body moved with inconceivable speed, causing the subsequent series of thunderous blasts to strike empty air—what was this now?

However, in the exact moment following this meticulous maneuver, Fu Qian noticed a new anomaly.

His body was being subjected to an incredible pulling force, one that was increasing at a rapid pace. As for its source...

Fu Qian gazed in a certain direction, noting that the Mist had thinned to the point where it hardly obstructed his vision.

And behind this final veil of haze, a giant sphere had manifested out of thin air.

Formed from a multitude of human bodies embracing one another, its shape was perfectly uniform.

It was even slowly rotating, allowing him to see fresh blood flowing wantonly within it.

The rapidly intensifying gravitational pull originated from this sphere, forcibly dragging him toward it.

'What is this now? A living blood Star?'

Clicking his tongue in wonder once again, Fu Qian could completely sense the entity's intent to slaughter him.

The power of the Star was likely far more than just simple gravity.

The instant this gravitational pull locked onto him, it carried an aura of fighting to the bitter end—there would be no easy escape.

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