Eldritch Horror Theatre

They didn't keep Fu Qian waiting long; footsteps soon fell in behind him.

The man who had been watching him earlier had brought two partners.

The trio clearly worked with practiced coordination. One trailed at a fixed distance while the other two split off down different paths.

Slick and methodical—clearly seasoned hands.

Fu Qian wasn't surprised. Robbery was a low-skill trade, practically a traditional craft passed down since the dawn of humanity.

In a place like the Wasteland, it was practically guaranteed to thrive.

To make sure they wouldn't lose his trail, Fu Qian deliberately paced himself.

Even so, it took nearly ten minutes before a figure darted out in front of him just as he stepped into a narrow alley.

"Friend!"

"Nice gun you've got there. You didn't seem too happy with the price back there, did you?"

As he spoke, he raised a light Hand Crossbow, leveling it straight at Fu Qian.

"I think we can offer a price you can't refuse."

"I appreciate the thought."

Fu Qian obligingly stopped in his tracks, his gaze resting on the weapon pointed at him.

Finished in dark gold with a sleek, delicate build, the tip of the loaded bolt shimmered with an eerie blue glow, making for a striking visual effect.

Taking a bolt from that would probably hurt every bit as much as catching a bullet.

Elegant and deadly. The only odd detail was its dainty aesthetic; it looked very much like a woman's weapon.

"Business must be treating you well!"

Fu Qian offered a passing compliment.

"Can't help it. We pride ourselves on our credibility, so business is always booming."

The masked man in front had merely grunted; the voice had come from behind.

Fu Qian glanced back. The other two had flanked him on the left and right, cutting off his retreat.

The speaker wore a pitch-black metal mask shaped into a menacing snarl, its material unrecognizable.

Like his partner, the rest of his attire bore no concealment. Judging by his clothes, he was unmistakably the one who had been sizing Fu Qian up earlier.

Judging from his tone, was he the leader of the trio?

Such a careless swagger made it obvious the masks were just for show; they clearly had no fear of their victims coming back for revenge.

"The original owner of that Hand Crossbow was a clever lady. After a brief chat, she happily struck a deal with us."

Noticing Fu Qian's interest in his companion's weapon, the black-masked man let out a string of chuckles.

"We're willing to buy that gun of yours for the exact same price."

He fumbled around in his pocket before pulling out a coin, flicking it upward with a sharp ping.

"Is that so?"

Fu Qian glanced up at it. It was as ordinary a coin as could be.

If memory served, it wouldn't even buy a single mint.

It must have taken real effort for the man to scrounge up something like that in the Wasteland.

Thud!

Backing up his partner, the third man, who had stayed silent until now, stepped forward and slammed his weapon heavily against the pavement.

"Made up your mind? We're busy people!"

"Understandable. Everyone's chasing their KPIs these days,"

Fu Qian remarked casually, his eyes shifting to the weapon in the man's grip.

It was a dark Flanged Mace, looking exceptionally heavy, its surface etched with intricate patterns.

It looked remarkably familiar.

If he remembered correctly, the one carried by Cross from the Saintess and Knight Duo was practically identical.

The Wasteland was indeed Elena and Cross's turf, but how had something like this ended up in these men's hands?

Given the caliber of these three, they wouldn't stand a chance against Cross even if he fought them alone.

"How much did that one run you?"

Fu Qian pointed at the mace, curious.

"That cost a whole lot more."

Evidently caught off guard that Fu Qian still had the leisure to ask about it, the black-masked man paused before speaking with a sinister edge.

"So it wasn't a prize from your day job."

Fu Qian caught on instantly.

"Bought it from the Siren Group?"

"You talk too damn much!"

Evidently displeased with Fu Qian's nonchalant attitude, the black-masked man's tone surged with murderous intent.

Clearly no saint, he vanished like a phantom the next instant. When he reappeared, black mist clung to his hand as he silently slashed toward Fu Qian's throat.

Yet, when he was barely a handbreadth away, his seemingly oblivious target shifted his torso without even turning his head.

A colossal force smashed into the man's chest. His body flew backward uncontrollably, and he felt something violently erupt out of his back.

Did he shoot?

The thought flashed instinctively across his mind.

No, there had been no sound. Then why...

The next moment, in his spinning field of vision, he caught sight of his own lower half and a spray of shattered organs hanging in the air, his thoughts coming to an abrupt halt.

...

Heavy, ragged gasps broke out, sounding jarringly loud against the sudden silence.

Staring at the two severed halves of the corpse on the ground, the Iron-Masked Man, who had been preparing to back up his teammate, froze, his finger stiffening entirely on the crossbow trigger.

He had seen it with absolute clarity: the guy had merely pivoted and driven his elbow into his partner's chest.

And a living, breathing human being had ruptured and burst apart like a bomb.

No matter how slow his wits were, he knew they had run into an opponent far beyond their league.

"Don't be nervous. What were you saying just now?"

Fu Qian pulled back his elbow and loosened his shoulders with a light sway.

Though the trio had clearly made a decent living robbing passersby, their actual strength was utterly unremarkable. That blow hadn't even counted as a warm-up.

"I..."

The Iron-Masked Man's mind seized up; faced with Fu Qian's question, he was completely at a loss.

In the next instant, a suffocating premonition of Death overwhelmed him. Before the thought of running could even take shape, a hand materialized out of thin air and clamped directly around his head.

Fu Qian didn't even bother looking at his true face, hoisting the man straight up by the metal mask.

A teeth-aching crunch echoed through the alley as the metal mask began to cave in under his grip, and the skull beneath it followed suit.

"What's the rush to leave?"

Amid the Iron-Masked Man's shrill screams, Fu Qian seized his hand, turned, and pulled the trigger on the Hand Crossbow.

A streak of light flashed, boring straight through Brother Hammer's thigh and pinning his fleeing frame to the ground.

"It really is a nice weapon."

Fu Qian was quite satisfied with the Hand Crossbow's power. Letting go, he reached into his own pocket and felt around.

A moment later, he drew out a gleaming brass bullet and pressed it against the Iron-Masked Man's temple.

It was a standard bullet; likely due to cost, not everything he carried was the specialized ammunition loaded in his gun.

"I'm also willing to offer a price you can't refuse."

"You can take it in your hand, or you can take it in your skull."

...

"I'll take it! I'll take it!"

Feeling the icy metal against his head, the Iron-Masked Man stiffened once more, shrieking at the top of his lungs.

"Pleasure doing business."

Fu Qian wedged the bullet into a gap in the man's mask, took the Hand Crossbow and the quiver, and then released his grip, letting him collapse onto the ground.

"You too."

Turning toward the struggling Brother Hammer, Fu Qian pointed at the Heavy Hammer on the ground and produced another bullet.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!