Eldritch Horror Theatre

Without a doubt, Fu Qian's logic had taken another bizarre turn.

In the face of his question, both Yuan Shan and Ambor fell silent.

Normally, Yuan Shan would have already shouted at him, but after suffering a succession of shocks, her tolerance was clearly much higher right now.

As for Ambor, he pondered for a moment before deciding to answer Fu Qian's question.

"My apologies, Mister Fang. The Progenitor's revelation is the most closely guarded secret of the Blood Clan. I cannot share it with you."

"Understood. I just wanted to confirm something. Your Progenitor's revelation isn't 'come to Mother,' is it?"

...

The moment the words left Fu Qian's mouth, time seemed to stop flowing.

With a sudden, chilling glare, Ambor took another deep breath. Rings of bizarre patterns began to surface from the brilliant, flowing bloodlight.

Is this his complete Mythical Form? Was he covered in blood and filth earlier just to avoid provoking everyone?

Faced with this sight, Fu Qian silently speculated.

Yet, even having deduced such a dangerous possibility, he did not step back. He actually widened his eyes and observed carefully, looking as if he were afraid of missing a single detail.

After staring directly at it for several seconds, he heard no prompt about losing SAN Value.

Amazing! Is it because I have a Solidified Profession now?

Fu Qian naturally thought of one possibility.

It shouldn't be that simple. Even with it solidified, I'm fundamentally still in the Demigod Realm. In previous missions, I still lost SAN Value when I was supposed to.

Looking directly at the Mythical Form of something approaching a Deity from this distance—logically speaking, I shouldn't be this stable.

Fu Qian fell deep in thought.

"Mister Fang, I regret to inform you that from this moment on, you are an enemy of the Blood Clan."

The next moment, Ambor's voice rang out, dripping with killing intent.

"Any act that blasphemes the Progenitor is absolutely unforgivable."

"I believe even the Night Watchers would not deny this point."

Ambor looked right at Yuan Shan as he delivered that last sentence.

"Understood. It seems it isn't."

Faced with the death threat of a Divine Emissary, Fu Qian showed zero awareness that his life was in imminent danger, simply continuing his earnest analysis.

There was a very good reason he had asked that question—Ambor hadn't heard his Progenitor say those words, but Fu Qian had.

Exactly. From the very moment the moonlight boiled, Fu Qian had heard it.

It was a sweet, gentle, and utterly enchanting voice, yet it carried a despair so thick it felt almost tangible.

The whispers layered over one another, seemingly bypassing his conscious mind entirely to ripple information directly into his spirit.

"...Child... kind child... come to Mother..."

"...Breathe deep the scent of blood... do not be intoxicated by the Lie... child..."

The murmur was ethereal and illusory, yet completely unblockable—as if an entity of an incredibly high Rank was gazing at him through some special medium.

This wasn't exactly Fu Qian's first time experiencing such a sensation.

But what he found strange was another detail entirely—he actually hadn't lost any SAN Value from it!

And the same held true now, even as Ambor unleashed his Mythical Form.

If all of this is a manifestation of the Progenitor of the Blood Clan's will, doesn't it feel a bit too friendly toward me?

Moreover, that wasn't his only takeaway.

When he asked that question a moment ago, Fu Qian hadn't just been watching Ambor. He had observed almost everyone in the room simultaneously.

And judging by their reactions, everyone else was completely baffled.

A voice that only I can hear, and one that doesn't even hold any malice.

He had to admit, it let the imagination run wild.

Have I accumulated so much good karma in my daily life that I've become this popular?

That entity even called me "child".

Life truly is full of surprises.

Looking back at how things had unfolded, everything had pointed to this being Ambor's protagonist script.

Like an old steed in the stable, he had worked with painstaking effort reaching alone into untrodden realms. Ultimately, heaven rewarded his dedication. He had successfully utilized this special potion to channel the true Night of Nights, thus earning the Progenitor's gaze.

Yet, after all that, the gaze landed on me instead?

More importantly, what I heard was clearly different from what he heard. It's very difficult to chalk this up to simply having high inspiration.

...

"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself? It doesn't seem like the time to be discussing what happens after tonight just yet."

Yuan Shan found Fu Qian's behavior just as bizarre, but that clearly wasn't her main focus right now.

"Ahead of myself?"

Ambor chuckled lowly once again, though the sound was far less joyful than before.

"I believe Gulade has already gone to the greatest possible lengths to abide by your rigid rules."

"We even granted respect to these wretched, insignificant creatures."

"But you must understand. A millennium of thirst has never truly been extinguished."

As he spoke, Ambor's massive body slowly stood up.

With his movement, a pair of deformed arms stretched wildly from his back, rapidly tearing and branching out into a chaotic tangle of limbs.

The damp, sweltering sensation in the air grew even heavier.

In his sheer fury, Ambor seemed to have completely relinquished any suppression of his power. Fueled by that mystical connection, it suddenly felt as though the true Red Moon had descended upon the earth.

Is this the power of a Divine Emissary? Though it's a step below Ariel transforming into light, it's still absolutely astonishing.

Fu Qian silently felt the changes in his surroundings.

To his senses, everything bathed in the Red Moon's glow seemed to be rapidly deteriorating.

It wasn't a physical rot, nor were things mutating into flesh-and-blood monstrosities. The degradation was more like the withering of concepts themselves. For instance, the very concept of "burning" seemed to drain away from the candles, leaving them devoid of their brightness.

Within the entire room, aside from the few Transcendents, absolutely everything was undergoing this rapid degradation.

Even Yuan Shan and Su Gao had to expend energy just to resist the relentless wash of this power.

Meanwhile, Grantham was practically plastered to the floor.

This suppression, seemingly originating from the very source of his bloodline, left him utterly incapable of mustering even a single thought of resistance.

"...Come to Mother... the scent of blood..."

Within Fu Qian's mind, that voice seemed to grow even louder.

Crash!

Right at that moment, the shadows in the corner roiled. A humanoid figure struggled out from within, knocking over a brown statue beside it and sending it crashing to the floor.

This sudden disturbance instantly drew everyone's attention. Under their collective gaze, the figure rapidly came into focus.

Serana?

Fu Qian recognized that signature gray hair and those red eyes at a glance, and he wasn't the least bit surprised.

With such a massive commotion happening, it would be a miracle if she hadn't noticed.

And given her personality, refusing to cooperate with the operation but sneaking over to observe in secret was absolutely standard operating procedure for her.

Unfortunately, an aura so closely resembling the Descent of the Progenitor acted as a natural suppression against every member of the Blood Clan. Even a demigod was no exception. In an instant, she could no longer maintain her concealment.

It was obvious that while she wasn't about to drop to the floor like Grantham, the pressure she was enduring right now was still immense.

"Serana!"

Ambor didn't seem surprised by her sudden appearance either. Instead, he merely let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

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