Eldritch Horror Theatre

It is said that when a child is the spitting image of their father, people joke that he birthed the kid himself.

Did the scene unfolding before him count as a literal interpretation of that?

It truly managed to stun the entire room. His Excellency Jose stabbing himself without blinking an eye had practically stupefied the audience.

The moniker of Blood Wedding was becoming more fitting by the minute, yet not a single person dared to stand up and flee. They just stared in unison at the wound, as if waiting to see if the man would dig the object right back out.

Considering the wooden puppet was completely submerged inside him, if he actually did that, wouldn't it be an exact reenactment of the scene in the Small Prayer Room?

Fu Qian was naturally among them, and his mind was connecting even more dots.

With things reaching this point, certain aspects had finally become clear—such as Old Man Ji's goal.

Was he following the Warehouse's orders, helping Excellency Father's Amnion corrupt Jose as well?

He was. Back in the Small Prayer Room, His Excellency Jose had done the exact opposite: ripping a living lump of flesh out of his own stomach, as if delivering his own child.

Having long noticed the rampant pleasure, Jose had been using that method to purify himself.

Though his current action was the exact reverse, it still inevitably drew a connection.

Not to mention how it tied perfectly into Old Man Ji's actions and words along the way.

They were highly manipulative and incredibly deliberate, consistently trying to pin the romantic entanglements both on and off the stage onto his "father."

His specific method was a very simple progression:

The object of these women's twisted romantic obsession was Don Juan.

And I am not Don Juan. You are.

Thinking about it that way, didn't it sound exactly like a devil's whispers, tempting a mortal into depravity?

...

So the core of this mission was to make His Excellency Jose fall and completely surrender to pleasure?

Everything seemed to fall into place, including the choice of the six camera angles up until now.

Yes, even with details like that, Fu Qian had never stopped searching for an underlying pattern.

Thinking back on it now, it couldn't be easier to explain.

It was clearly the Punished Consort's eye, so why did Insight reveal a senior operative's past mission record?

And if it clearly looked like a senior's mission record, why did the perspective jump around so erratically?

It was simple. The perspective was indeed jumping around, but only between those infected by the Seed of Ecstasy.

This wasn't a mission log; it was a pathological record of a spreading, festering ulcer that ultimately ruptured.

Framed like that, didn't it fit perfectly within the established parameters?

Ecstasy had long been rampaging through this Ancient Royal Court, specifically centered around the two newlyweds.

No matter how normal they seemed, every perspective he had stepped into was connected to that Web of Pleasure.

And the Punished Consort wasn't just another part of the ulcer—she was a rather special one, which was why this precious record had been preserved...

Not bad. It made perfect sense.

Having rapidly sorted out a plausible direction, Fu Qian felt the distinct satisfaction of achieving a breakthrough in his research.

But it came back to the same question: what was the goal?

Unsatisfied with simply resting on this revelation, Fu Qian had already pointed his mind toward the next step.

Make His Excellency Jose fall, and then what?

He had just marveled at how the Warehouse was magnanimous enough not to hold a grudge against Father's Amnion, yet now it was actively helping it expand?

The implications of that were far more severe.

So much so that it made one even more curious about just how heavy the counterweight on the other side of the scale must be.

Haa—

Whether the counterweight was heavy was hard to say, but His Excellency Jose's breathing was certainly heavy.

Such a minor wound shouldn't have caused someone of his Rank to display such vulnerability.

Yet at that moment, having stabbed himself, his breathing had grown as ragged and heavy as someone in labor.

At the same time, his hand had actually reached into the wound to dig around, though the process was nowhere near as smooth as last time.

"You're lying... It's not Don Juan."

But as expected of an expert at Tier 2 or above, he kept his mind clear despite this minor trouble. A moment later, he glared at Old Man Ji and spoke coldly.

It seemed he had faintly turned his own body into a testing instrument, confirming that the object truly was just a piece of wood.

...

This was the ultimate dimensional strike.

His Excellency Jose had already proven himself quite decisive and ruthless. Fu Qian believed the man had every reason to be absolutely confident in his test results; yet witnessing it, he still sighed in quiet pity.

How did the saying go? "You give it everything you have, only to reach the threshold where I can finally toy with you."

If the earlier events could still be attributed to Old Man Ji acting on his own, this anti-detection technology had to be the Warehouse's doing.

This scheme simply left no way out. Fu Qian felt a profound sense of despair on behalf of His Excellency the God-Man.

Of course, from the latter's perspective, the die seemed cast. He could finally confirm that this was indeed just his son hitting a rebellious phase and playing a vicious prank—right?

"Then can you let go and allow me to continue?"

It seemed "Don Juan" himself thought the exact same thing. Faced with Jose's solemn declaration, Old Man Ji's tone remained devoid of emotion as he naturally voiced his request.

...

It seemed His Excellency Jose was getting old, lacking the courage to take a gamble.

In theory, there was nothing wrong with Old Man Ji's words, yet the man he addressed fell silent once again.

No wonder parents popped blood vessels dealing with rebellious kids. That kind of attitude was truly infuriating.

All the evidence pointed to him making an empty show of strength, yet the person involved stubbornly refused to admit it, frustrating the listener to the point of madness.

This time, although His Excellency Jose was popping a blood vessel for a different reason, he clearly also wanted nothing more than to burn the man to ash just to see if he was black or white—Boom!

There really was fire?

In that moment, the old adage about not speaking carelessly was proven true once more.

As if the fury in His Excellency Jose's eyes had physically manifested, tendrils of fire suddenly erupted across the groom's body.

This was far from a mere visual effect; almost instantly, flesh and blood could be seen vaporizing.

The horrifying scorch marks left behind were grotesque, as if a dense swarm of sharp claws had torn across his body.

Yet even so, His Excellency Jose showed no intention of releasing his restraints. The groom remained frozen in his signing posture.

Clearly, to Jose, whether the other party collapsed from severe injuries was a factor no longer worth considering.

Being incinerated by this ultimate fire would provide him with a far more reliable method of discernment—

"You really aren't..."

He had actually reached a world-shattering conclusion. Jose's tone overflowed with disbelief.

So that was it.

At the same time, playing the role of the audience, Fu Qian had also reached his own conclusion regarding his earlier question about the counterweight on the other side of the scale.

He naturally had no connection to the sudden flames, but he seemed to recognize them.

The flames were black, their outlines resembling sharp claws.

Mother of Gospel. He had seen a similar sight back at Silver Mist Manor.

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