Eldritch Horror Theatre

The path upward was always a bit harder to walk, especially for a swordsman with a broken leg.

Yet with guidance coming from behind, A Fei did not hesitate. He climbed step by step up the nearly half-blocked staircase.

Even though the reflection caught on his gleaming blade grew increasingly abstract—

His attire remained quite formal. Even his hat sat perfectly straight, giving him the distinct air of an intellectual.

However, the cluster of tentacles stretching from his back drew far too much attention.

The stark contrast only made the sight more jarring.

Curled around the tip of each tentacle was a bizarre weapon even more vicious than the Serrated Blade, perfectly embodying grotesque slaughter.

Yet even this arrangement didn't entirely lack a researcher's touch.

For instance, to prevent the weapons from clashing, the tentacle tips utilized spatial arrangement brilliantly, staggering the crossed blades based on their unique shapes and sizes.

Furthermore, as the man climbed the steps behind him, this floating armory remained as steady as a gimbal.

He was clearly using exquisite control to keep every weapon visible to the frontline fighter for an instant swap.

In such an eerie place, this level of logistical support was undeniably heartwarming.

Not to mention the small hand protruding from his eye socket. It swayed along with his steps, spinning a gleaming Prosthetic Eye in its grip as if scanning their surroundings.

While it might not count as a high-alert stance, it still offered a strange sense of security—no, wait, it was two eyes.

At that moment, A Fei paused, carefully scrutinizing the image caught in the reflection.

He had just stepped beneath a light. Aided by the slightly better visibility, he realized the small hand was actually holding two eyeballs.

Aside from the gleaming Prosthetic Eye, the other was clearly made of flesh and blood.

The little fingers moved rhythmically, rolling the two eyes around each other like a pair of polished walnuts.

"Don't get distracted."

Unfortunately, before he could fully appreciate the charm of this macabre plaything, a warning came from behind.

...

For a swordsman, a lack of focus was a fatal flaw.

The most crucial skill to hone was the ability to remain relaxed even while entirely focused.

Unfortunately, A Fei was still too green in that regard.

Despite his talent, wandering through the Inverted Lake meant he was bound to suffer.

Slice—

Barely a second after Fu Qian's warning, a spray of crimson colored the dim light.

The wound opened on the side of A Fei's neck.

His body was already deformed, leaving the skin there so thin it was nearly transparent.

Beneath it, a shockingly dense network of blue veins pulsed. It was a terrifying sight, screaming of a fatal weak point.

The sudden attack had been unbelievably swift and vicious, aiming directly for that exact spot.

Despite it being only a single gash, the flesh was instantly mangled, spraying a mist of blood under the light.

And that was only because of the warning. He had dodged instinctively; otherwise, he would have been completely decapitated.

Clang—

Amidst the mist of blood, the very first sound that rang out wasn't a wail of pain, but the sharp clash of metal.

Blindsided, A Fei had reacted almost simultaneously, swinging his Serrated Blade in a vicious arc.

Unfortunately, despite his ruthless reaction time, the blade didn't bite into flesh. It merely shattered a nearby pillar.

Then, darkness descended. The lamp that had illuminated the bloody mist shattered.

This wasn't collateral damage from the lamp falling with the pillar.

Fu Qian, watching from behind, saw it clearly. Missing his first strike, A Fei hadn't frozen. Without a second of hesitation, he slashed again, shattering the lamp on the wall.

After destroying public property, he retreated into the shadows of the corner. Only then did he pause, attempting to staunch his bleeding.

His method for stopping the bleeding was incredibly crude: he just clamped a hand directly over the wound, forcefully squeezing the split flesh together.

...

Not bad. His jianghu experience might be a bit lacking, but he had true potential.

Having watched the entire exchange, Fu Qian strode right through the lingering mist of blood, quietly praising A Fei's performance in his head.

Getting distracted in such a perilous place was a major taboo, but his immediate reaction displayed a remarkable hunter's instinct.

Simply choosing to counterattack instead of dodging at the moment of ambush put him far ahead of most people.

Fu Qian didn't even think he had actually spotted the attacker. From the angle of the slash, it seemed more like a subconscious calculation based purely on the physical damage to his own body.

At his barely Mid Tier level of strength, if he had taken even a fraction of a second to think, that swing would have been far too slow. It was purely combat instinct.

As for missing the target, his immediate follow-up actions clearly displayed genuine combat wisdom.

Total darkness was always better than standing in the light while the enemy hid. Since such a ruthless slash had missed, there was no point in making similar attempts. Shifting from offense to defense maximized the difficulty of the enemy's next strike.

Shattering the lamp, retreating into the darkness, and only then trying to stop the bleeding—his method was surprisingly effective, too.

By the time Fu Qian stepped in front of A Fei, the surging blood had almost completely stopped.

It wasn't because he possessed the flesh vitality of a Thug, but simply because his grip was monstrously strong.

The wound was a gruesome sight to behold. His withered hand had clamped down like a steel vise, mashing the torn flesh into a bloody lump.

Fortunately, perhaps because his body was already twisted, this chaotic trauma didn't trigger a further collapse.

"They're over there... I heard a sound."

Even facing Fu Qian's scrutiny, though his voice was hoarser than before, he still retained the ability to communicate.

The moment he forced himself to speak, A Fei didn't waste breath on useless reassurances like "I'm fine." He immediately shared his intel.

'Oh? I didn't hear that at all.'

Fu Qian was naturally satisfied with this performance. His gaze drifted up the empty staircase.

He had seen the incoming attack, of course. Otherwise, he wouldn't have warned him.

But right now, to his own senses, the surroundings had completely quieted down. He didn't pick up on any unusual movements.

Which meant that if A Fei was telling the truth, the swordsman was hearing something that Fu Qian couldn't—which was excellent.

Far from doubting the claim, Fu Qian was genuinely pleased by this outcome.

Just as he had noted earlier, grooming A Fei wasn't out of mere boredom. The swordsman represented his corruption of this realm, acting as a more finely tuned sensor for sniffing out anomalies.

And now, though they had barely begun, it seemed something new had already appeared.

"They?"

His gaze falling upon the dark, dotted patterns lining the wall, Fu Qian casually asked for clarification.

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