Eldritch Horror Theatre

"Don't waste time."

Seeing Fu Qian standing motionless, Gerald immediately urged him on with a dark look.

"Things should have already started on that end. We need to go regroup with them as soon as possible."

Despite his blunt tone, Gerald's feelings toward the man before him had grown increasingly complicated.

He had read the reports earlier. The things this guy had done since his departure were genuinely jaw-dropping.

And the strength he had displayed was equally unbelievable, making Gerald doubt his true motives for participating in the previous expedition.

Not to mention, this guy was now somehow involved with the Ji Clan.

In Gerald's eyes, whether LS Luo's death had anything to do with Fu Qian or not, an unstable element like him should have been eliminated outright using it as an excuse.

There was absolutely no need to let him enter the Underground Ruins again and needlessly increase the risk.

So right now, his only task was to escort Fu Qian to the Underground Ruins as quickly as possible. Once he handed the man over, everything would be fine.

"Alright, lead the way."

Fu Qian could understand the man's mood, so he withdrew his gaze and replied in an easygoing tone.

The terrain in the swamp was complex. Vehicles were completely useless here, so they would have to travel on foot from this point on.

Seeing that Fu Qian wasn't trying to pull any stunts, Gerald shot a glance to the side. Gary nodded and quickly ran to the front to lead the way, while the rest of the group followed in sequence.

Fu Qian naturally walked in the middle of the formation.

Once they truly entered the swamp, the eerie nature of the place became increasingly apparent.

Even on seemingly walkable paths, stepping down offered no sense of solid ground.

Not only did various viscous liquids ooze from the soft earth, but one could even feel the ground faintly twitching.

In that moment, Fu Qian perfectly understood Nora's reluctance to venture deeper.

Naturally, Gerald and the others felt the same. Everyone wore a grave expression.

This was especially true for Gary, who was leading at the front. Although he clearly knew the route, his brows were tightly knit, and every step he took was marked by extreme caution.

After trekking like this for over ten minutes, the group had penetrated deep into the heart of the swamp.

The bizarre, fishy stench in the air grew heavier, and even the temperature had noticeably risen.

Just as Fu Qian was wondering where this heat was coming from, Gary suddenly raised his hand, signaling everyone to stop.

Fu Qian followed his gaze and discovered that it wasn't a mud pit blocking their way. Instead, a washbasin-sized patch of ground ahead was tearing and swelling, bulging upward into a small mound.

"Turn back! We're taking another path—hurry!"

After staring at it for a few seconds, Gary's face drained of color, and he roared for a retreat.

The others didn't seem to fully grasp what was happening, but they were readily accepting good advice. They all stopped in their tracks and turned around to head back.

Even so, they were a step too late.

In that brief moment, the bulging mound had grown to half a person's height. Through its torn surface, countless intertwined, root-like structures could be seen writhing beneath.

The man hurriedly stripped off his clothes and threw them to the ground, then began frantically tearing at his hair.

He pulled with such force that it made one wonder if he was going to rip his own scalp off—and indeed, he had already ripped it off.

Fu Qian watched as the man tore off large clumps of curly hair with the scalp still attached, revealing festering sores on his head.

This thing was pretty intense!

As Fu Qian marveled at the sight, he glanced to the side.

Following the eruption, the ground where the small mound had been was completely torn open, leaving behind a pool of red-and-white sludge.

"Change routes, hurry!"

Gerald, walking at the very back, naturally hadn't been splattered. After staring at Gary for a long moment and confirming that the guide hadn't lost his mobility, he immediately issued the command.

...

Finally, after over half an hour of trekking and encountering two more eruptions, the group arrived at their destination.

It was a deep pit sloping downward. Unlike the rest of the swamp, it didn't contain any unsettling viscous liquid; instead, it appeared quite dry.

The pit was surrounded by a dense tangle of nearly petrified roots, which extended downward to form a passage.

Several people, clearly from Siren, were standing guard nearby. As the team leader, Gerald coldly stated their purpose before calling out to Fu Qian, signaling for him to take the front.

Fu Qian naturally didn't decline. He immediately took the lead, walking right into this eerie place, the suspected Angel Dungeon.

...

The first person to discover this place truly needed a considerable amount of courage.

Fu Qian casually observed his surroundings as he descended.

The passage was extremely deep, zigzagging in all directions, making it impossible to guess where it led.

It was hard to imagine how long a person without a clear goal could persevere in here.

He continued downward like this until a stone door appeared before him, already pushed open inward.

Beyond the stone door lay a flat, straight path. A single glance revealed it to be a man-made structure, and it was obvious that an entirely different world lay hidden deeper inside.

It really was a stretch of Underground Ruins. This Wasteland was a sinister place indeed!

Fu Qian nodded inwardly.

At this moment, a group of people were either sitting or standing at the ruins' entrance, seemingly taking a short break.

The moment Fu Qian and his group entered, these people looked up one after another.

And the mask on Fu Qian's face undoubtedly drew the most attention.

He paid it no mind. After looking around on his own, he actually spotted a familiar figure in the corner.

Wasn't that classmate Elena?

Clad in a dark jacket and fitted trousers, her snow-white shirt remained spotless even in a place like this. Now sporting a new outfit, Elena was sitting silently in a corner.

Compared to when she was in that deathmatch, the Patricidal Saintess sported a much sharper look, yet her presence had grown increasingly deadened.

It truly was a case of where in life do paths not cross.

It seemed getting by in a large organization wasn't so easy either, considering she had actually been sent to do this kind of dirty work.

Fu Qian clicked his tongue in amusement.

Looking at her, the chances of her being sent here as a supervisor were slim; it was more likely that cannon fodder had been hard to recruit after the incident, forcing them to send in their own people.

Furthermore, for some unknown reason, Fu Qian felt that she had undergone an indescribable change since the last time they met.

Sanzang's Revolver

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