Eldritch Horror Theatre

Wasn't this night a bit too lively?

All sorts of oddballs were popping out of the woodwork.

On the flip side, of course, the harvest had been quite bountiful.

Taking two steps forward, Fu Qian bent down and plucked a thin, grayish-black chip from the scattered debris.

This was the Talisman Wehle had given Marco. The quality was clearly excellent—it hadn't even been damaged by the indiscriminate bombardment.

Unfortunately, it seemed to be the only item Marco had left. Nothing else of value turned up.

It wasn't too surprising. It was only normal for someone with such obvious mental instability to fail to scrape together much of a fortune.

Marco was a typical brawler who relied on his physical body to conquer opponents. If he truly had any Items or resources, he probably would have traded them for protein powder.

Sadly, that particular manifestation of power had clearly led to physical and mental instability, making him far too impulsive.

Furthermore, judging by the current information, the true effect of this thing was highly suspicious.

Strolling casually away from the murder scene, Fu Qian scrutinized this second Talisman.

This wasn't mere subjective speculation; there was a very clear logic behind the thought. Marco was dead.

He might have killed the man himself, but that didn't matter. Dead was dead.

Considering the great lengths Ariel had gone to to test them earlier, if activating the Talisman was truly important, Marco definitely shouldn't have died.

How could Wehle and the others allow such a thing to happen?

So in Ariel's eyes, this matter wasn't even as important as him rushing over to help—or rather, cause trouble...?

Fu Qian felt the whole situation getting increasingly bizarre.

In fact, when he went all out just now, he had wondered if Wehle or someone else would jump out at the last second to call it off.

If that had happened, the probability that the Origin Council shared his line of thinking would undoubtedly have been much higher.

What a pity...

In any case, after everything tonight, Fu Qian harbored considerable doubts about the authenticity of Wehle's plan.

Right now, the general outline of the situation looked like this:

First, just as the Clamor Festival was approaching, members of a certain religious organization in Dunis suddenly began contracting the beast-transformation disease.

The outbreak was severe enough to attract the intense scrutiny of the Night Watchers. They didn't hesitate to mobilize on a massive scale, pulling in manpower from surrounding areas to closely investigate all kinds of rogue transcendents.

Meanwhile, under these very circumstances, the Origin Council was plotting to slay a God, preparing special means to turn the revelry of the Clamor Festival into the Tide of Clamor.

At this very moment, both Talismans were in his hands. In theory, this already ran counter to Wehle's original plan.

Since that was the case, he might as well see this divergence through to the end and find out just how stable this long-premeditated plan actually was.

For example, when the Horn sounded, he wouldn't crush either of the Talismans. Instead, he would immediately run over to "help," readying himself to slay the God directly in front of the Night Watchers and the Origin Council.

...

Screech!

At the ear-piercing scrape, Fu Qian leapt backward with quick reflexes, casually snatching up his half-eaten cherry cobbler along the way.

A split second later, someone's rear end shoved the table in front of him halfway across the room, while deafening cheers erupted in his ears.

The festival atmosphere was truly in full swing!

Watching the group jumping around the neighboring table with boundless energy, Fu Qian let out a sigh of emotion.

Today was not like yesterday; the revelers received no reprimands whatsoever.

Also, young people were indeed easy to please, bouncing back so quickly from their successive setbacks.

That's right. The people partying right in front of him were none other than the energetic lad Frank and his crew, whom he had run into earlier.

Thinking back to when he had swiped their valuables, the group's morale had hit rock bottom—they were utterly bleak, miserable, and desolate. He hadn't expected them to get hyped up again this fast.

They had even managed to scrounge up enough money for food and drinks.

For a moment, Fu Qian seriously suspected that these four had taken up a day-labor job for some quick cash.

...

Fu Qian was currently sitting in a bar by the docks. Because it sat on slightly higher ground and featured outdoor seating, it offered an absolutely excellent view.

From where he sat, he could clearly see the towering Lighthouse not far away.

Once night fell, the legendary Count Valentin would ascend it and blow the first Horn of the festival.

Having made up his mind earlier, Fu Qian had come here ahead of time to prepare for the grand show tonight.

The sky was gradually darkening, and the festive atmosphere was already quite thick. All sorts of bizarrely dressed demons and monsters were gathering in twos and threes—the Night Watchers included.

Just in this immediate vicinity alone, Fu Qian had spotted at least a double-digit number of Mid-Tier Transcendents.

They were clearly organized, spread evenly around the docks like a cast net, monitoring the increasingly surging crowds.

The situation over at the Phoenix Palace and Cross Square was exactly the same.

Indeed, Fu Qian had taken a stroll through those two locations before coming here.

Though the manpower over there wasn't quite this exaggerated, it was still substantial.

It was hard to imagine where the Night Watchers had pulled so many people from.

As for how Fu Qian could sit in the very center of this net and eat his cobbler so calmly, the reason was actually quite simple.

Crunch!

Tossing the remaining pastry into his mouth, Fu Qian smoothly slipped the mask onto his face, perfectly blocking a scanning gaze.

A figure, also wearing a mask, had their eyes locked onto him.

"What's wrong?"

The person beside them, who was also masked, spoke up in a familiar voice. It was none other than the rebellious young girl, Lotte.

"Nothing..."

Their eyes met. Veil scrutinized Fu Qian sitting there, her gaze lingering on the exquisitely patterned mask on his face before finally looking away. She shook her head and continued walking.

As expected, they couldn't hold back and just had to hit the streets.

It wasn't too surprising; the festival atmosphere was indeed highly infectious.

And for the Veil Sisters, no matter how one looked at it, his warnings hadn't carried much credibility anyway.

Watching the Veil Sisters walk past, Fu Qian mused inwardly.

That's right. His method of staying undercover was extremely simple: he just wore another mask over the mask the Witch had given him.

This was the benefit of concealing one's aura. Given that the streets were filled with masked revelers, he was now in a true state of The Great Recluse Hides in the Market. Even if someone in the Demigod Realm walked past, they wouldn't be able to spot anything out of the ordinary.

Let alone someone like Veil.

However, he could tell that the two sisters had taken some precautions.

For instance, they were both wearing the most ornate, heavy masks, wrapped up tightly from head to toe, and actively trying to maintain a certain distance from everyone else.

Too bad the danger was likely far beyond their imagination.

With a sigh, Fu Qian stood up and walked forward, blending into the flow of the crowd.

The sun had completely set, and the colorful lights on the parade floats preparing to set off could be seen not far away.

Even beneath the Lighthouse, a sea of heads was surging, making it clear that a VIP had arrived.

Fellow Crow Feather, the time to show off your plan has arrived.

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