Eldritch Horror Theatre

The clear evening remained unchanged.

Returning to The Bookstore in a single second, Fu Qian settled back into his luxurious chair and gazed out the window.

The weather was fine, though it was a pity the sunset had faded to a single sliver of afterglow.

Fortunately, even reduced to that sliver of light, there was no sign the sun would refuse to rise tomorrow.

Although the number thirteen was, theoretically, a bit unlucky.

With a sigh, Fu Qian touched the empty cup in front of him, grabbed the teapot, and poured himself another drink.

The tea still held a residual warmth. Gan Baobao's brewing skills might have been lacking, but the tea leaves themselves were of exceptional quality.

Before entering the Warehouse, he had offered her a little guidance right here.

He had emphasized that while the gap between transcendents and ordinary people might seem vastly unfair, in the face of true death, their fear was exactly the same.

This mission hadn't just been bizarre; the numbers forty-eight and thirteen seemed to cast a faint haze of gloom over everything.

Even the item's serial number had been 013.

In the past, he might have brushed it off as mere coincidence, but he had recently proven the power of numbers.

Not to mention the similarity between the numbers of the two Containment Objects related to Old Man Ji, which served as a perfect example.

Still, he preferred to look on the bright side. Even if it was only thirteen days, that was nearly two weeks.

Not to mention, this time had brought a small, unexpected harvest.

Bernard... one half of the Coffee Bookstore Duo had actually visited Demon Mountain?

In return for supplementing the records related to Lasik, Old Man Mosson hadn't provided much information, but it was enough to confirm it wasn't just a shared name. It was indeed that old acquaintance.

It was somewhat unexpected, yet it made perfect sense.

After all, those two had even managed to wander into the Witch's territory. Compared to that, stumbling into a local Moon God's lost dream was a bit less absurd.

Moreover, he had already deduced that their peculiar constitution was highly likely tied to the Nightmare Corridor.

...

Yes. In Fu Qian's eyes, this mission had seemingly connected even more scattered threads.

So much so that Annalise's midnight nightmare appeared to have deep ties to the Nightmare Corridor.

The first reason lay in the name itself. The Corridor inherently carried dream elements, and the title had been personally authenticated by that Native, Brother Persuader.

Although he had been calling himself the Dream Dominator for quite some time, as it stood, this unique power didn't seem to have anyone truly controlling it—no Lord of the Dream Abyss, no Awakened Sovereign, or anything of the sort.

This experience inevitably made him wonder if some towering figure was hiding behind this detached, otherworldly concept.

Could it be the Primordial Moon? It certainly seemed inextricably linked.

Taking it a step further, could the Primordial Moon be tied to the very emergence of the Nightmare Corridor?

After all, the Dark Moon that followed it clearly shared deep ties with the Nightmare Corridor.

The second reason was that the other Virtue Task related to Lasik had rewarded him with the Decree of Return upon completion.

And during his subsequent return from the Witch's domain, the Warehouse had personally verified that the power was tied to the Nightmare Corridor.

Combined, these facts proved that even if "Virtue" hadn't taken place inside the Nightmare Corridor, it had occurred somewhere intimately connected to it.

Thus, the probability that this other Lasik-related task shared similar attributes was undoubtedly high.

Putting it all together, the fact that Bernard had accidentally stumbled into it actually seemed perfectly normal.

What Fu Qian found truly fascinating, however, was the man's way of handling it.

It just went to show that every anomaly had a reason. The Lester that Old Man Mosson had mentioned was highly likely to be Brother Buyiren.

It sounded like his own psyche had suffered a fair bit of devastation during his therapeutic intervention with Bernard.

He wondered if that was his motive for taking up a part-time job as a night guard later on, or the reason behind his complicated attitude toward the Harbinger's story.

One moment he believed it, the next he didn't. To Fu Qian, this was a textbook case of a medical professional being reverse-corrupted by their patient. Had that messy-haired guy planted the seeds of madness in him from the start?

Of course, by the end of the mission, his hesitation had been proven justified.

Through a series of extreme maneuvers, the Harbinger had proven himself to be a true master of prophecy.

In his psychological game against Servis, the latter had always been too shallow. The true dynamic worked like this—

The Harbinger could indeed predict a window of the future, writing those visions down on paper.

Servis used his planted spies to secretly read those notes, and then arranged for the events to happen exactly as written.

As a result, when the prophecies actually came true, both men claimed the credit, yet both simultaneously plunged into self-doubt.

After all, even from the Harbinger's perspective, Servis's actions were the equivalent of dropping yellow mud down one's pants—even if it wasn't crap, it sure looked like it.

In a way, wasn't this the exact process of being trapped in a mental asylum, descending step by step from self-doubt into genuine madness?

Fortunately, a descending villain had intervened at the end. Through a chaotic trio act, he had helped drive the doctor utterly insane.

As for the Sanitarium's aftermath, the chances of Servis and the Harbinger swapping positions were rather high.

Of course, returning to Bernard—while the old man had been vague about exactly how he managed to leave, Bernard clearly possessed traits that proved he wasn't sick.

What was even more intriguing was the fact that Bernard was actually the "first intruder."

No matter how you looked at it, the guy wasn't very old. Did that mean this Divine Dream, left over from the Mythological Era, had remained entirely undisturbed for all those years?

Then why was its peace broken this time?

This was far from a pointless question. It tied into a much more personal one: why had he received this specific mission?

It looked as though he had simply been tossed into a predicament, and as long as he made it out alive, the mission was a success. Why exactly did the Warehouse orchestrate things like this?

All he could conclude was that once the Nightmare Corridor was involved, things became exceedingly strange and elusive.

He wondered if he would get a chance to track Brother Bernard down later and learn a few more details from him.

"Ti Lanqi?"

His mind raced, but it didn't stop Fu Qian from looking up at the sky and silently reciting another name.

...

Still nothing?

It was a pity. Even though night had truly fallen, there was still no moon in the sky, let alone the Red Moon.

So much so that Fu Qian stroked his newly acquired "weapon" and poured himself yet another cup of tea.

Actually, he had been waiting from the exact moment he returned, curious to see if the Red Moon would have any special reaction to his recent experiences and spoils.

Unfortunately, everything was utterly quiet—so much so that he was forced to up the dosage and try calling out "its name" directly.

Regrettably, there was still no response, and he had drained the teapot dry yet again. Whatever.

With a soft sigh, Fu Qian rose from his loyal chair and set off into the dim evening, heading straight for the airport.

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