Eldritch Horror Theatre

Barring the unexpected, something unexpected had definitely just happened.

Fu Qian turned around just in time to hear a sharp crack. His pen had been snapped cleanly in two.

A racial talent, is it?

They had destroyed two of his pens in just half a day!

Fu Qian frowned, but seeing Serana's clearly distracted state, he magnanimously chose not to pursue the matter.

"What's wrong?"

He stepped forward as he spoke, looking at the notebook in Serana's hands.

The next moment, she jolted. As if realizing something, she instinctively tried to snap the notebook shut.

After a brief hesitation, however, she stopped herself.

Through the gaps between her fingers, Fu Qian caught sight of the line of text.

He drew a sharp breath.

It was a simple sentence, but a flurry of thoughts raced through Fu Qian's mind, instantly explaining her reaction.

"Within your clan, is it widely accepted that the Progenitor has already fallen?"

"But recent signs have made you suspect that this consensus might be wrong?"

"...Yes."

Serana remained silent for a long time before giving a muted nod.

Just as I thought.

Fu Qian nodded silently. Her reaction just now was actually very easy to understand.

Annalise was already dead. This was a recognized fact within the Blood Clan, and Serana had likely believed it without a shadow of a doubt.

Unfortunately, a few recent events had vaguely contradicted this fact, causing her distress.

Following his suggestion, she had decided to verify it.

As for why she wrote that specific sentence, the reasoning was simple.

The death of the Progenitor of the Blood Clan probably wasn't a monumental secret. Even if she used the notebook to confirm it and he happened to see it, it wouldn't matter much.

But if the Progenitor truly hadn't fallen, that line of text wouldn't appear on the page. He would be none the wiser, and Serana alone would know the truth.

A rather sensible choice.

The problem was that even after confirming the Progenitor had indeed fallen, Serana still looked distracted.

Now that was quite interesting.

However, given his previous promise, he wouldn't ask about any recent events.

"Can I have that back?"

Fu Qian smiled and reached out, prompting her to return the notebook.

...

Serana took a deep breath. As expected, she didn't try to keep it, simply handing it back to Fu Qian.

"Sorry, I need to head back."

Tossing the snapped pen aside, she shot Fu Qian a complicated look before leaving without another word.

...

It seemed his suggestion had done some good.

Fu Qian mused silently as he watched Serana's retreating back.

In the meantime, a new figure had appeared in the hall outside.

Despite his middle-aged appearance, the man with slightly reddish eyes was handsome, elegant, and perfectly poised. He was also clearly the center of attention.

Was this the mysterious host of the salon?

One glance was enough to tell that he belonged to the same race as Serana.

Fu Qian had no idea how the man had introduced himself to the crowd.

When Serana walked past the group, not a single one of those connoisseurs—who prided themselves on treating everyone equally in the name of art—dared to look directly at the imposing presence of this Demigod Realm existence.

This lingering intimidation even extended its benefits to Fu Qian.

"Mister Zha."

When Fu Qian slowly strolled downstairs a short while later, the mysterious salon host approached him with extreme caution.

"It is a pleasure to meet you."

Fu Qian didn't utter a word in response. Instead, his gaze swept slowly over the crowd.

Jose, who had been discussing art with him just moments ago, now wore a smile so fake it looked glued on. Even his breathing had grown shallow.

Beside him stood the young woman Julie, completely silent. She stared in their direction with a pale face, her suppressed demeanor hiding a faint trace of anticipation.

Fu Qian gave her a slight nod. Without another word, he followed Serana's example and left the hall the way he had come.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lips trembling uncontrollably.

Looks like I accidentally nipped one of Brother Zha's illicit affairs in the bud!

Fu Qian mused to himself.

Of course, Zha Yingjun could always find her later and explain that it hadn't actually been him.

But with certain things, one could rely on self-deception before the truth was laid bare. Once the illusion was shattered, however, things could likely never go back to the way they were.

...

He had originally planned to stick around a little longer.

Unfortunately, the unexpected windfall from Serana made it impossible to continue freeloading food and drinks.

The Blood Clan member from earlier had been exceedingly respectful to Serana, so he probably wouldn't dare spread any gossip about her.

However, since Fu Qian was also the center of attention now, it would be difficult to glean any more valuable information. There was no point in staying.

Leaving the private villa behind, Fu Qian quickly made his way back to Zha Yingjun's apartment.

Everything was exactly as he had left it. Zha Yingjun still hadn't woken up and remained securely tied up.

Perfect. This was the most convenient outcome.

Satisfied with his precise control over the force he had used, Fu Qian quickly adjusted his appearance back to normal. He then untied the man and snapped his fingers.

"Ugh..."

With a quiet groan, Zha Yingjun slowly came to.

He immediately looked around in a daze.

The seemingly familiar garden and staircase... everything looked so recognizable. He was obviously right outside his own apartment.

Why am I here? Before this, I was...

A vague memory surfaced, and Zha Yingjun jolted in alarm, quickly patting himself down.

He finally breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled the Invitation Letter from his pocket.

The Invitation Letter isn't lost... So what am I doing right now?

Going home.

The thought surfaced in his mind almost instantly.

Did I already attend the salon? Am I on my way home now?

That can't be right.

Why don't I remember anything? And why did I come back alone?

Zha Yingjun furrowed his brow, sensing that something was terribly wrong.

He tried his hardest to jog his memory, but the urge to go home rapidly grew stronger, thoroughly disrupting his thoughts.

Torn between the two conflicting thoughts, he subconsciously took a step back.

Wait, why do I even want to go home?

However, after taking just a single step, he stopped again. His expression briefly twisted into a scowl as he intensely questioned his own decision.

The sheer intensity of his doubt clashed with the compulsion, making everything around him feel slightly unreal. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to shatter everything in sight.

Ultimately, he managed to suppress the impulse. With a stiff gesture, Zha Yingjun pressed the elevator button.

When the doors opened, he trudged mechanically to his front door and unlocked it.

Everything inside was perfectly normal, and the time printed on the Invitation Letter had long since passed. No matter how he looked at it, it seemed he had just returned from the event.

He sank into a chair in a daze. The next moment, he thought he heard the snap of a finger, and the world around him suddenly felt much more real.

Looks like this is the first time I've run into a situation like this. Was the dream actually becoming unstable just now?

Meanwhile, standing outside the door after ending the Lucid Dream, Fu Qian fell deep into thought.

To think his obsession is actually this strong...

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