Eldritch Horror Theatre

Holidays were truly a wonderful thing.

Under the setting sun, Fu Qian looked around, sighing with genuine appreciation.

The reason was simple. Although the official holiday wasn't until tomorrow, the streets were already packed with men and women in bizarre costumes.

It ensured the mask on his face didn't look the least bit out of place.

Earlier, by using a deeper level of consciousness to assume control, he had prompted Frank to naturally excuse himself to the restroom when trouble arose. Once Frank had taken off his clothes and washed his face, Fu Qian ended the parasitic state, put on his mask, and left.

For safety's sake, maintaining the parasitic state a little longer might have been the better choice. However, there was a major issue: the abilities gained from Insight came with a time limit.

He also had a gathering to attend tonight—one he needed to join under the guise of Camus.

Considering the other attendees would all be Camus's acquaintances, fooling them wouldn't be easy.

Some things simply couldn't wait.

Knock, knock, knock!

Amid his thoughts, Fu Qian raised his hand and rapped on the door in front of him.

He was standing at the exact address Old Man Camus had provided before his death.

He had made no stops along the way, heading straight for this place.

Admittedly, this was highly risky. After all, he wasn't exactly on good terms with the Origin Council.

But as the saying went, high risk yielded high rewards. From his initial observations, this group's actions clearly intersected with his mission, and Fu Qian didn't mind pulling chestnuts from the fire.

...

"Who are you looking for?"

Barely a few seconds later, a wary voice sounded from inside.

"Camus Greda."

Unbothered, Fu Qian announced the full name with deliberate cadence.

Anyone would be cautious when someone showed up at their door wearing a mask, wrapped up so tightly that not a single inch of skin was exposed.

...

"Sorry, there's no one here by that name."

The person remained silent for a long moment before responding.

"That's fine. He's out here."

Fu Qian tapped the mask on his face, making no move to take it off.

He wasn't worried about being kept out.

There were only two possibilities for someone to find this place and announce Camus's name in such an outfit.

Either it was Camus himself in disguise, or it was a Night Watcher posing as him to make an arrest.

If it was the former, they obviously had to open the door. And if it was the latter, would they really dare keep it shut?

Click!

His reasoning proved sound. A few seconds later, the door clicked open from the inside, revealing an elderly man in glasses standing there with a grave expression.

"My apologies, it is still a bit early."

He spoke vaguely after looking Fu Qian up and down.

"If only the Night Watchers shared your opinion."

Fu Qian shook his head, brushed past him, found a seat, and planted himself down.

"But—"

The elderly man tried to protest, but Fu Qian simply waved a hand, forcing him to swallow the rest of his words.

Fu Qian said nothing more, simply closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair to rest.

"I know Camus, but he doesn't usually look like you."

Another voice soon rang out. The tone even carried a hint of schadenfreude.

As the person spoke, a figure walked down the stairs.

It was a rather robust fellow. Going by appearance alone, he didn't even look thirty, and he was quite handsome.

But at a glance, the man gave off an indescribably unnatural vibe—simply put, an uncanny, inhuman aura.

Now that he thought about it, didn't his tone sound like he had some bad blood with Camus?

As the saying goes, the one who knows you best is your enemy. Knowing that the more he spoke, the more likely he was to slip up, Fu Qian quickly decided to play the antagonist.

"If you won't speak, I'll just have to treat you as an enemy."

Seeing Fu Qian's dismissive attitude, the uncanny fellow grew visibly displeased. His words dripped with threat.

Unfortunately for him, the seated man remained completely unfazed.

"Camus Greda..."

The uncanny man ground his teeth. The next moment, a bizarre undulation rippled beneath his skin.

At a glance, it looked as though a writhing swarm of nematodes was bound just beneath a thin layer of human skin.

"I do need a little help, but definitely not from you."

Just as the uncanny man closed the distance step by step, Fu Qian pulled off his right Glove.

Both the uncanny man and the elderly man were instantly drawn to the movement.

And at a glance, the hand presented before their eyes was completely translucent.

Faint, bizarre patterns and motifs traced across the seemingly unreal surface of his skin. They shifted like a kaleidoscope, pieced tightly together to form the shape of a hand.

This was an ability Fu Qian had acquired through Insight. He was using this special state to temporarily suppress the effects of the Divine Blood Curse.

It was certainly effective, but the visual effect truly challenged the imagination.

Hm?

The uncanny man stopped in his tracks, his expression twisting as he stared at Fu Qian's hand.

Clearly, even he was disturbed by the sight.

"That's enough, Marco."

Before the man could say another word, a different voice cut him off.

It came from upstairs once again as a middle-aged man with a narrow face walked down the steps.

Compared to the uncanny Marco, this man was dressed far more formally.

He wore a shirt and vest, a meticulous bowtie, and even held a gold-inlaid cane.

Waving for the elderly man in glasses to step back, he walked straight up to Fu Qian.

"Ran into trouble?"

"The Night Watchers were more alert than I expected."

Fu Qian allowed the man to inspect his right hand. With his other hand, he grabbed his mask and took it off for a few seconds.

The face, which belonged to Camus, was covered in the same chaotic patterns as his hand.

"I was targeted by the Night Watchers almost as soon as I arrived. The one who attacked was an unfamiliar expert of the Demigod Realm, so I had to use this method to escape."

He spoke quickly.

"I'm afraid I won't be of much help for this operation."

"Rest assured, your condition is stable for now. Crow Feather should have a solution."

The middle-aged man finally spoke after examining him closely.

Just as he thought, this guy wasn't Crow Feather.

Fu Qian nodded calmly and put his mask back on.

The man before him possessed far greater strength and presence than Marco. His tone of voice also naturally painted him as the organizer of the operation.

Fortunately, he remembered Old Man Camus's words very clearly: I also want to know who Crow Feather is.

The man in front of him had revealed himself far too easily to be the source of such deep resentment.

"Wehle, is he really Camus?"

Marco stood to the side, his expression complicated.

"He feels a bit different from usual. Especially when he took off the mask just now..."

"He reeks of divinity, right?"

Wehle glanced at him, then pointed expressionlessly at Fu Qian's exposed hand.

"That is because it is the Divine Blood Curse."

"Don't worry over nothing. I know the two of you don't get along, but Camus hasn't crossed the threshold of the Demigod Realm just yet."

"Though now that you mention it, your mask is quite interesting."

As if suddenly remembering something, Wehle frowned slightly as he stared at Fu Qian.

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