Eldritch Horror Theatre

The texture felt pretty good.

There was a phrase about leaving lost items untouched on the road, but considering he was in his own home, there didn't seem to be any taboo against picking things up.

Lifting the desk-sized piece of cloth, Fu Qian noted that even if he ignored its magical effects, the material itself was incredibly pleasant to the touch.

The last time he had seen this thing, Taylor had been wrapped in it, using Shadow Shuttle.

As it turned out, it had far more than that one effect. He could practically drape the entire Night Roaming Magic Academy over himself.

And yet, such a priceless treasure had still failed to protect its master's life?

The fickle mandate of heaven, indeed. In that case, shouldn't a virtuous man take possession of it?

Not at all bothered that it had recently served as a temporary shroud, Fu Qian gave it a couple of shakes and draped it right over his shoulders like a cape.

He had to admit, he hadn't thought much of it before, but now it suddenly felt like Dayun Mingwang really ought to have an accessory like this.

The inky blackness shrouding the area remained as deep as ever. It felt like even the Blood Clan, who loved the night, might get depressed if they stared into it for too long.

However, as he had just tested, the darkness itself didn't seem to possess any actual lethality.

Other than that, there were no special traces left behind here either.

It gave the grisly scene on the floor the distinct flair of a locked-room murder mystery.

Normally at a time like this, as the intruder stumbling upon the crime scene, he'd probably be pegged as the murderer by whoever showed up next, right?

Then again... his hand really did feel a bit tight.

A moment later, Fu Qian lowered his head and studied his left hand.

For the sake of looking stylish, he hadn't let the cape hang straight down his back; instead, he was using that hand to pull it shut over one side.

But the texture he had just been praising now felt a little too exaggerated. It was no longer just draping smoothly; it clung to his skin like static cling, and it was constricting tighter by the second.

Was this the legendary Tourniquet?

Without even needing to test it, Fu Qian knew the thing was no longer going to be easy to peel off, instantly bringing a specific term to mind.

It wasn't an unfounded comparison. Everyone knew that when a tourniquet was tied on, it was generally to draw blood, and Fu Qian could already feel the cape's ravenous greed for his flesh and blood—heh!

Even the silence in the darkness was broken by a string of bizarre laughter.

Only, it wasn't from some sudden intruder. The sound was coming from the corpse on the floor.

"I knew it. I knew you would come... Dayun Mingwang."

The voice directly identified Fu Qian's persona.

Though that final "Dayun Mingwang" was spoken through somewhat gritted teeth.

...

"Taylor Gulade?"

Faced with this sudden twist, Fu Qian didn't feel the slightest awkwardness at having his identity called out. He stood his ground and casually tossed back the greeter's name.

Indeed, who else could it be? Back when he was navigating the choppy waters of business, it was the owner of this very voice who had helped him launch his used-book recycling and rental operations. How could Fu Qian easily forget?

"That's right, it's me... They all said this was a stupid idea, but I just told them they didn't understand you."

Sure enough, the other party openly admitted it the very next second. The charred "corpse" slowly stood up, its facial features coming into focus. It was none other than South Taylor, the young prodigy who had shaken Shangjing.

It proved that a Child of Destiny truly wouldn't meet his end so easily.

And from just those few lines of dialogue, a heavy trap could be sensed—a trap set specifically for him.

Brother Taylor had anticipated Dayun Mingwang's visit all along, and so he had prepared a banquet in advance.

This whole situation could truly be called a mutual rendezvous.

"Heh... so what kind of person am I?"

Filled with gratification, Fu Qian gave a low chuckle, not minding hearing a bit about the false reputation he had forged.

...

"I can only say I'm even more certain it's you. This completely arrogant attitude of yours."

Faced with a Dayun Mingwang who was courting death and utterly lacked the self-awareness of someone caught in a trap, Taylor wasn't about to lose his composure. He simply sneered, staring intently at Fu Qian's face.

Although there was nothing wrong with the facial features themselves, he had worn a mask the last time they met. This time, it was a direct creation of flesh and blood, making the visual impact vastly different.

"I have to say, this face of yours matches limb grafting quite well."

What was also quite touching was that he clearly remembered the things Dayun Mingwang had said before perfectly, casually dropping the Transcendent concept of a certain organization.

"You flatter me. You've changed quite a bit yourself, though."

Fu Qian continued to act completely oblivious to the sarcasm, immediately offering a polite compliment in return.

It wasn't an empty remark. Even though Taylor's face had reverted to normal, there was still very little vitality to him. He almost gave off the feeling of a talking corpse.

The blackness on his body remained thick, and as he moved, it faintly resonated with the surrounding "oil."

"Heh, if I didn't do this, how else could I have made you feel safe enough to drape that thing over yourself?"

Seeming to have his exact itch scratched, the deep satisfaction in Taylor's voice was genuinely infectious. As he spoke, he even reached out a hand, pulling a thread of black string out of thin air.

"Of course, this isn't some kind of barrier, nor can it trap anyone. Its only function is to make it impossible for even a Demigod to discern my true state.

"And I've always had a lot of confidence in you. I was certain that you would come looking for me again, and I was just as certain that you would discover this hidden corpse."

...

"I get it now. This thing, just like that cage, is a form of equal retaliation."

As the saying went, one must Look with New Eyes After Three Days Apart. The name of South Taylor was truly not an empty boast.

Not in the least bit bothered by the other man's posturing, Fu Qian listened carefully, rapidly drawing his conclusions and confirming the true nature of this trap.

He even thought back to the past, coming to an understanding of the likely reason behind it.

The first time he returned from the Nightmare Corridor, he had frightened Taylor once with the Head Cage, tricking him into believing that he had left a mark on him—one that couldn't be washed clean even if he jumped into the Yellow River.

Even though it had merely been the contents of a dream, it seemed this victim was still incredibly proud and absolutely refused to swallow any pointless insults.

If his guess was right, this cape wrapping around him wasn't trying to suck him dry into a mummy. Instead, it was functioning like an Imprint, ensuring he couldn't escape even if he grew wings.

"Heh, the Wisdom King is as clever as ever."

Brother Taylor undoubtedly loved to laugh today.

"It is indeed a bit of a coincidence. That thing on you is also extremely sensitive to flesh and blood—so sensitive that as long as it has made contact, it will never make a mistake.

"Even if you found a way to take it off right now, or even directly escaped, by using the secret arts of the Gulade Clan, we will track you down no matter where you are."

He really did hold a grudge. This was practically an upgraded version of how he himself had described the Head Cage's effects back then.

He had already explained it in great detail, and Fu Qian couldn't help but marvel at the young man's determination.

Finding courage in shame. The setup today was obvious; this was exactly the method Brother Taylor had painstakingly developed after agonizing over his previous defeat.

He had even specifically absorbed the essence of Dayun Mingwang's own operations, turning someone's tactics back upon them.

Before, he had questioned whether the man was just coasting on a false reputation. Now, it seemed the title of South Taylor was no misplaced praise after all.

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