Eldritch Horror Theatre

"Welcome!"

Politeness was indeed contagious. Fu Qian's greeting was quickly returned.

The clown lying there enthusiastically called out without even looking back.

Not only that, he casually pulled out a square box and nudged it over, gesturing for Fu Qian to take a seat.

The size was about right. However, it was made of paper, and its red-and-white-striped, ribbon-adorned Fright Box design was so classic that it felt like a head might pop out to startle someone at any moment.

Still, it fit the clown's style perfectly. It even brought to mind the Black Cloth Bag used to abduct the Lord earlier.

"Thanks."

After a brief mental critique, Fu Qian sat right down. He gazed forward alongside the clown, recreating the scene that had once unfolded by the lake behind the door.

"I thought you'd head over to the door first."

He immediately expressed curiosity about Fu Qian's actions, openly exposing himself as a member of that criminal syndicate in the process.

The logic was simple, after all: how else would the clown know whether he had gone to the door?

Unless, like Akasha or the Angel of Death before him, he had been monitoring everything the entire time.

"What would I do there? Watch a bunch of people clamoring to jump in?"

Fu Qian didn't mind the revelation at all. He only felt the comforting warmth of reuniting with an old friend.

Although when it came to Fu Qian, this old friend likely only remembered having his head blown off.

As for checking the door first?

Fu Qian hadn't forgotten, of course, nor was he in a rush. He just found the idea boring.

"Oh?"

At that answer, the clown finally turned his head.

"How do you know if you didn't even go?"

...

He really was an old friend.

Though the white makeup was whiter and the red was redder, making his face a bit more exaggerated, Fu Qian remained absolutely certain that the facial features beneath matched perfectly.

He had, after all, observed the entire process of the clown slicing off his own face with a knife, and had even mentally noted areas where the technique could be improved.

This had given him an unusually profound understanding of so-called bone and skin structure.

"So what else could they do? They've guarded it for so long; they have to get something out of it, right?"

Looking at a face completely devoid of knife scars, Fu Qian actually found it a bit strange for a moment as he casually returned the question.

"Once the commotion at the door started, the safest option for any demigod who could still move would obviously be to flee first and assess the situation.

"But on one hand, the momentum was genuinely bad. On the other hand, if they really ran, wouldn't they lose the entire advantage of their early investment? They'd turn into complete clowns."

Not shying away from using his old friend's title as a descriptor, Fu Qian easily empathized with the mindset of the Native demigods.

"Instead, it's better to risk seizing the initiative and jump straight behind the door. It's an easy calculation... From my perspective, at least among the demigods lurking in that building, the proportion of those choosing to flee shouldn't be very high."

He didn't look down on them for it. Everyone was just out here trying to survive, and the pros and cons were easy to weigh.

It was just that for Fu Qian, merely imagining the scene sapped his interest in even watching the spectacle.

"You still overestimated them. To be precise, not a single one fled... A lot of people are just like ducks, only knowing how to waddle along."

The clown wasn't quite as polite. First taken aback by Fu Qian's cheerfully chatty demeanor, he immediately offered a sharp critique.

Quack—

As he made the comparison, a Yellow Rubber Duck literally appeared in the clown's hand, and he gave it a squeeze to produce an unconvincing squeak.

...

Brother Clown's array of props had really expanded. Was this the benefit of having team support?

Seeing him conjure another item out of thin air like magic—no longer just the previous GG Card Killer—Fu Qian clicked his tongue in wonder.

Coupled with his ability to easily monitor the situation inside the building, the guess that the clown belonged to the same syndicate was confirmed. It was glaringly obvious exactly who had produced the bag that packed away the Lord right under his nose.

If that evidence didn't seem sufficient, one only needed to look at the water.

Unlike the lake behind the door, which had turned into a giant cauldron, the Sage Lake in front of them hadn't changed from his memories. The water level was still high, the surface as smooth as a mirror.

Plop!

Amidst Fu Qian's evaluation, the clown tossed the Rubber Duck into the water, stirring up faint ripples.

As the ripples spread, they encountered an obstacle, causing the shape of a bundle to become distinct in the darkness...

This was practically catching him red-handed. No matter how you looked at it, he had packed the Lord away from a distance and casually chucked him into the lake, not even bothering to let the man out.

Not only was the silhouette easy to distinguish, but the endpoint of the Thread of Attachment pointed straight into the bag.

However, despite being as powerful as the Lord, he seemed to be suffering under immense suppression. He was curled up motionlessly inside without making a single sound.

How domineering!

Imagining the scene, Fu Qian could almost feel the sheer, effortless flair behind the act.

The only issue was that the clown who had pulled off such an astonishing maneuver wasn't even a demigod yet.

It was true. After embracing the darkness, his gains seemed solely reflected in his props; his personal strength hadn't improved at all.

The same held true even after bathing in the Ash Descent.

In just this brief moment, that black-and-white ash had finally consumed everything up to the edge of the lake, enveloping the spot where the two of them sat.

Yet, under Fu Qian's Vision Radar, the clown's Rank showed absolutely no change.

One could only say there were hierarchies even among chaotic elements. Brother Clown had clearly transcended such vulgar pursuits.

"Why not let him out? Logically speaking, you two should still be considered part of the same faction, right?"

Fortunately, Fu Qian didn't mind the earlier act of snatching food from a tiger's mouth; instead, he began advocating for the Lord's human rights.

"Honestly, I wish we weren't. His performance is truly embarrassing."

Without denying it at all, the clown just shook his head, pulling a series of weird faces as if imitating someone—

"I look forward to seeing your methods! You ignorant fool!"

Even if the vocal impression wasn't perfect, it was recognizable. It was a recreation of the Lord's earlier, high-spirited outbursts.

As the clown repeated it now, his mocking tone was incredibly thick. He couldn't care less whether the person in question could hear him, or if it would ruin the harmony between them.

"Too tedious... These demigods completely lack a will that matches their forms. It makes them even more nauseating than the weaklings they look down on."

Fortunately, even as the Ash Descent swept past and instantly gave the lake water a bizarre appearance, the Black Cloth Bag remained entirely quiet.

"In short, if I wasn't told to do it, I'd have absolutely no interest in giving him a second glance."

The clown quickly dropped his imitation, looking as if he couldn't wait to spit out a mouthful of dog shit.

"I understand. So, who asked you to?"

Looking entirely empathetic, Fu Qian naturally followed up with the question.

"The Angel of Death. Haven't you been looking for him?"

The clown blinked.

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