Eldritch Horror Theatre

I suppose that counted as bullying an honest man.

The moment he laid eyes on the Brother Apostle, Fu Qian sensed his fragile mental state and realized it would be a vulnerability.

It wasn't surprising, really. Liliana had already set a shining example, proving that precious jade is ahead.

After all, the Deity Burial Ground was hardly a pleasant place. It was only natural to go a little crazy after staying there too long.

In short, since he was already probing that vulnerability, realizing the Brother Apostle was the crux of the problem felt like a matter of course.

But the question remained: why?

Why had the Dragon King been able to hide within his inner world?

Why had he called himself an apostle earlier, only to wake up with the overwhelming realization that he wasn't one?

Why was he here, and what was his relationship with the Night Watchers?

One core reason his exploration of the Bone Burial Ground had yielded so much was because of the "footprints."

The observer near Senior Liliana and the Sword of Heavenly Punishment he encountered when trying to cross the boundary were both things he had never seen before.

Based on his observations along the way, he leaned toward the idea that their forms of existence were rather abstract, akin to traces of "history."

He also couldn't forget that the Brother Apostle before him had only abruptly manifested after he had donned the Eldest Son's Vision and made his move.

Although the man seemed far more real, could there be a fundamental similarity?

Indeed, Fu Qian didn't rule out the possibility that the Brother Apostle and the observer near Liliana were entities of the same kind.

As for his relationship with the Night Watchers, that was hard to say. But one thing seemed certain: he could summon them.

Ding, dong—

Even after leaving the "dream," that distinct sound of splashing water continued to ring out, once again stirring up faint ripples in the air.

Although the nematodes outside the dream hadn't died off en masse, it seemed their sensors had still been triggered.

It was truly time to go.

"Yes, I don't have to be—"

Sighing inwardly, Fu Qian acknowledged that no feast in the world lasts forever, however reluctant he felt to leave. He looked at the apostle pointing at him and unexpectedly agreed with the accusation.

As he spat out the final word, his massive body leapt straight into the air.

Even as he tore through the sky, his form changed once more.

His scales elongated, his massive maw turned into a sharp beak, and the dense membranes of his wings transformed into long, sword-like feathers...

By the time he landed, golden flames already shrouded his entire body.

Plunging into the endless filth, he no longer resembled the Dragon King of their imaginations, but a Phoenix reborn from the flames.

Ultimately, he curled into a ball, transforming into a bizarre sun before abruptly vanishing.

...

That exit should have been passable, right?

When he reappeared, the light shining through the small window by the counter had almost crawled to his hand.

Rubbing the armrest of his chair, Fu Qian savored the final scene.

All his flashy maneuvering just now could really be boiled down to one core strategy: the wind is tight, pull back.

The Dragon King remained hidden, and the alarm had been triggered. Since it wasn't wise to linger, the natural choice was to return the way he came.

To his relief, the door left by the Red Moon proved thoroughly reliable. The entire transit was incredibly smooth, without the slightest hindrance.

Of course, that hadn't stopped Fu Qian from putting on a little extra show for himself.

One must always finish what they start. Having just directed a play of the real and fake Dragon King, how could he let it fizzle out at the very end?

Not only that, he needed to build on that foundation and deliver a proper Sublimation.

And so, Fu Qian thought of the Phoenixes from earlier, which he suspected to be the Dragon King's method of self-preservation.

After all, it was a work of painstaking effort reaching alone into untrodden realms. Since he had accepted the Metallic Bird Blood, shouldn't he also bear this karma?

It just so happened that his theme this time was transformation, making it incredibly convenient to adjust his look.

Thus, in the span of a single glide, Fu Qian rapidly tweaked a few elements, pushing his appearance closer to the legendary Winged Dragon.

Paired with his final line, "I don't have to be," it should easily spark some wild imaginations.

Perhaps someone witnessing this scene was purely a matter of probability, but as the saying went, one must be cautious in solitude.

Even without an audience, the show had to go on.

Of course, this wasn't merely a prank.

The core elements were the final sun and the golden flames burning upon it.

In his occult investigations so far, the Wheel That Cannot Be Looked Upon had undoubtedly become an extremely delicate focal point.

Fu Qian didn't intend to make the Night Watchers believe the Ancient Sun God had returned. After all, according to Henry, it was a near-universally accepted fact within the Night Watchers that the deity had completely perished.

But that wouldn't stop some elements related to Him from appearing, thereby provoking the Night Watchers' vigilance.

Especially when those elements were seemingly linked to the Flame of Frenzy.

The golden flames were meant for far more than mere visual effect, or making the whole thing look more like a sun.

To Fu Qian, it was even a method of bringing things full circle.

Let's not forget that the Flame of Frenzy was one of the tools used to sling mud at Excellency Father's Amnion.

And now that the latter appeared to have been executed, what if this flame could barely be found on Him?

When the time came, given his role as a technical consultant, no matter how normal his performance had been throughout the process, it would inevitably arouse some suspicion.

At that point, the best approach wouldn't be to explain, but to give them a new target.

Turmoil in the Deity Burial Ground, the reappearance of the Flame of Frenzy, and a suspected connection to the sun—these elements should be quite eye-catching.

Fu Qian was quite curious to see exactly how the Night Watchers, who theoretically possessed numerous historical secrets, would react to this.

In short, this trip had been highly rewarding. It was well worth ruining yet another set of clothes.

Fu Qian looked down at himself. Cold, hard lines, blunt and heavy curves, a color forged by a thousand temperings...

It was a somewhat incomplete set of Armor, something he had casually configured on the trip back.

Since this was an independent scientific expedition, he hadn't even been granted the minor perk of a uniform, and the clothes he had worn previously were completely ruined.

While his current outfit was visually impressive, it really didn't suit a Bookstore Owner.

If customers peeked in from the outside, they'd probably think some anime cosplay event was going on.

Not to mention that on top of the Armor, there was even battle-damage detailing—

Fu Qian's hand lightly brushed over his left wrist. The Armor protecting it melted and retracted, revealing a hideous, intertwining pattern glaringly branded on his skin.

...

Dark, gloomy red, its lines sprawling like flying dragons and dancing phoenixes.

Aside from his research gains this time, he had actually secured a bit of a material reward as well.

The origin of this Imprint on his wrist was quite simple: his close-quarters brawl with the Dragon King.

No matter how mad the latter was, he was still a higher entity. His obsession with reclaiming that sliver of Crimson Frenzy was completely unstoppable.

Although in the end, not only had he failed to take it back, he had also been forced to throw in a little extra.

After a thousand years, this pain of the Tyrant's withering—the embodiment of a sneak attack and a curse—had finally returned to the true Body of the Tyrant.

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