Eldritch Horror Theatre

"I won't fault you for being hairless, but refusing to show yourself openly and still daring to call yourself the Dragon King?"

Fu Qian had never been one to judge by appearances, nor did he take their minor past grievances to heart.

The main reason his tone lacked politeness was the Dragon King's own behavior.

What was the point of roaring so loudly? Show your face!

Even if you couldn't show your face, you could at least make a move, right?

Instead, it just kept roaring blindly without so much as spitting on his face. Did it underestimate this seat's discipline in letting spit dry on one's face?

Such neglect, such an insult... it was already courting one's own death.

The crime was judged in an instant. The Remastered King of the Abandoned Prison, who had arrived full of enthusiasm to clear up past grudges, immediately gave a cold snort and stopped holding back.

His somewhat frail body began to frantically expand, rotate, and piece itself together... King of Dismemberment, transform!

Fu Qian, who had just summoned his chest Armor, paused his transformation to stare ahead.

As if finally realizing he had misunderstood an old friend, the Dragon King's roar did not sound again, and the Soul Butterflies fell completely silent.

In their place, a wisp of dense red mist rose, giving that insubstantial body a faint hint of blood.

"Cough... cough, cough..."

However, slightly challenging the imagination, this red mist did not rise from a pool of blood. Instead, it came from Brother Apostle, who had been completely motionless until he suddenly broke into a violent fit of coughing.

...

'I like to scare people in my dreams?'

Fu Qian naturally noticed the changes in the Dragon King Apostle.

In a place with such poor air quality, some respiratory irritation was perfectly normal, not to mention he had likely just been gorging himself.

What made him curious was Brother Apostle's expression while coughing.

The blood mist spraying from his mouth and nose was as thick as steam from a boiling cauldron, making it look as though his very lungs were failing, yet the man still wore a look of complete serenity.

Even his eyes were lightly closed, as if he were sound asleep.

And the breath he exhaled in his slumber was rapidly sketching out the Dragon King's body.

Beyond that... Crimson Frenzy?

Although the overall hue was very similar, certain things held extraordinary significance for Fu Qian.

With a single glance, he confirmed that the substance Brother Apostle was coughing up was a type of corruption with deep ties to himself.

It possessed quite a fierce reputation throughout the entire transcendent world. He had first encountered it during the mission to aid Eldest Miss Wen in her cultivation; once the corruption reached a certain level, it could even birth a Scarlet Angel, and Anjing had once used it as a poison...

All in all, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it had run through his entire transcendent career.

Especially during the final Night of Regicide, when he discovered that the source of it all seemed to originate from the stab wound the Mourning God inflicted upon the Tyrant.

That bizarre "poison" had eroded the Body of the Tyrant, ultimately leaving this corruption behind for the entire world.

And now, with this development, the speculation he had formed last time in the Abandoned Prison—that the Dragon King was holed up here—became even more likely.

Not to mention, a certain remnant of the Tyrant truly was connected to it.

...

'So, is it preparing to return this to this seat?'

The changes unfolding before his eyes, paired with his earlier dialogue, naturally led to an overly optimistic interpretation.

"You're too polite. If you wanted to use it for a couple more days, it really wouldn't matter."

Fu Qian shook his head and sighed, not having expected Brother Dragon King to be so particular about etiquette.

Whoosh—

Unfortunately, his good-faith interpretation was betrayed the very next moment.

Even though that body made no movement, a giant claw composed entirely of Crimson Frenzy appeared above his head without warning and forcefully slammed down.

'...That confirms it.'

Its hostility was abundantly clear. As Fu Qian lamented the difficulty of dispelling prejudice from people's hearts, he made another discovery.

The main reason was that this sudden sneak attack carried far too strong a sense of déjà vu.

Back when he played the role of the Tyrant facing assassination, the Dragon King, acting as the vanguard to pin him down, had used this very move to cause plenty of trouble.

So much so that Fu Qian even had some experience with how to dodge it—but why should he dodge?

He neither dodged nor evaded, nor did he use offense as defense. Fu Qian simply allowed the slap to crash down on him.

...

Flesh and blood flew everywhere.

Although using such a phrase to describe a clash between higher entities was somewhat vulgar, Fu Qian still felt it was the most fitting description.

Facts proved that the seemingly insubstantial body was not as simple as it appeared on the surface.

In that instant, even with a constitution as formidable as the Tyrant's, dense clusters of wounds appeared all over his body.

Only the portion of his chest covered by the Armor remained relatively intact.

As for how a single claw managed to leave such an even distribution of wounds?

It was simple: the wounds hadn't been slashed by the tips of the claws.

For one, the giant claw wasn't a physical entity and had phased straight through Fu Qian's body.

For another, as it passed through, the blood mist acted as though it were filled with countless invisible, needle-like teeth of Dimensional Poison.

The final result was that not a single part of his body was spared. The silver lining was that it further proved the Dragon King's identity.

Beyond that, "flesh and blood flying everywhere" didn't actually refer to his wounds.

Instead, wherever the giant claw swept past, the very ground Fu Qian stood on was instantly torn to shreds.

For a moment, he had no choice but to lightly leap up and tread the waves, playing the role of a tide-rider.

As everyone knew, jumping into the air during a fight was a rather risky maneuver, easily turning oneself into a target mid-flight.

Yet, even after he found a new foothold and stood firm, the second claw strike never came.

"Since that's the case, this seat will gladly accept it."

Not too surprised, Fu Qian stretched out his hand to toy with a wisp of crimson at his fingertips, looking as if he couldn't possibly refuse such great hospitality.

...

See? Regardless of whether it had formed passively, Crimson Frenzy belonged to the Tyrant.

And as the Mechanical King of the Abandoned Prison, his claim over it in this current situation should be higher than anyone else's.

The thing in Fu Qian's palm was very simple. It was none other than a component of that giant claw—a wisp of Crimson Frenzy.

In truth, he had more than one reason for not dodging earlier. Aside from confirming the entity's identity, he was also verifying the significance of Crimson Frenzy to the Tyrant.

Facts proved that even though the Dragon King had spent a thousand years trying to digest it here, it still couldn't strip away its innate affinity for the Tyrant.

While tearing through Professor Fu's flesh and blood, a portion of it had actually remained behind.

If it were anyone else, their first reaction might be to curse the opponent for having no martial ethics—not only launching a sneak attack but also lacing it with poison.

But for Fu Qian, he could easily confirm that the substance wasn't causing damage. Rather, it looked like it had finally found a vessel.

Roar—

And this time, Fu Qian finally heard that passionate roar once again.

The enormous body crawling there seemingly could not accept such an outcome at all. It suddenly unfurled entirely, its wings blotting out the sky and the sun.

'This appearance... isn't it a bit wrong?'

Shrouded in the shadow, Fu Qian once again felt the Dragon King's imposing aura.

Yet, at the same time, the body beneath those wings made him sigh in astonishment.

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