Eldritch Horror Theatre

"Haha... hehe..."

Fu Qian's response actually made Patches freeze for a moment, but he immediately let out a string of wretched laughter.

"Are you trying to say that I was the one who made you destroy my masterpiece, kill my Horse Legs, and then sit here chatting with me?"

"By 'Horse Legs,' you mean Goya and the others? I have to say, it's quite an interesting title."

Fu Qian clicked his tongue in admiration. Remembering the name of the Item he was supposed to put into Containment this time, he gestured at their surroundings.

"As for your question, you set up such a classic welcome ceremony. Wouldn't it be rude of me not to show up?"

"Interesting!"

Patches finally looked somewhat surprised.

"I have to admit, you're a bit different from the usual Scavenger."

Hearing the term "Scavenger," Fu Qian could essentially confirm that his guess was correct.

Is this really a ritual after all?

The test on the Nether Steed was just a facade. In essence, it was a setup—inviting the gentleman into the urn—all to ultimately harvest SAN Values.

"Different how? Did you not expect a Demigod?"

Fu Qian asked as he thought.

"I didn't expect such a formidable Demigod."

Patches's tone sounded like he was forcing a smile.

"Oh? Then what other unformidable Demigods have you met?"

Fu Qian didn't mind this attitude at all, asking with a genuine thirst for knowledge.

"Let me give you a piece of advice. If you want this conversation to have any meaning, the only way is to show some sincerity instead of playing tricks."

"Trust me, that won't do you any good."

Laughing sinisterly, Patches actually squatted on his seat and let his hands dangle over his knees. At a glance, he looked exactly like an old man lounging at the edge of a village.

"Let me think."

His warning left Fu Qian thoughtful for a moment.

"Are you trying to tell me that coercion is useless? That whether I can learn anything, and how credible those answers are, depends entirely on your mood? It seems you're very confident that I can't cause you any substantial harm."

"What do you mean, no harm?"

Patches's laughter grew increasingly obnoxious as he pointed at the ceiling.

Fu Qian's earlier rampage had left a gaping hole full of violent aesthetics up there.

"Such a good toy, destroyed in your hands... that's quite a heartbreaking thing."

"So the current situation is that you've already hurt me. Under these circumstances, if you want me to answer your questions, shouldn't you be a bit more sincere?"

"Well reasoned."

Fu Qian nodded earnestly.

"The question is, how do I show sincerity? Should I mold another horse for you?"

"No need. The Nether Steed is just a symbolic aggregate anyway. You've been devouring it for so long, yet the horse's neighing is still continuing, isn't it?"

Patches tapped his own head.

"Besides, you don't need to worry too much. It will be over soon. Once the time is up, I'll leave on my own. I won't delay your business."

"Fundamentally, there are no irreconcilable conflicts between us."

"Are you sure?"

Fu Qian wore a look of shock.

"What about all my previous losses?"

"Then I can only offer my apologies. Besides, until this game ends, I have no idea how much you've already lost."

Patches's laughter was treacherous, yet it carried an inexplicable sliver of sincerity.

"In fact, that's exactly what makes the toy so interesting. Before the dice cup is lifted, you never know what numbers lie underneath. The unknown is the source of all joy."

"Many times, from those numbers, I'll imagine what kind of interactions might have happened between me and the Scavenger."

"Believe me, that's far superior to any fabricated story."

Interesting!

That is to say, the Patches sitting here right now has no way of knowing how many times I've failed in my attempts at Containment?

He doesn't even know how many SAN Values he's harvested?

Although Patches spoke vaguely, Fu Qian heard something intriguing in his words.

It sounded as if he could only take stock of his harvest all at once after the mission was completely over.

In truth, this was quite close to Fu Qian's own conjecture.

Even if the Patches before him wasn't at the Deity Tier, he was probably close to it.

And it was almost certain that he had some understanding of the Warehouse—its characteristics and the rules governing its interventions.

Only then could he lay a trap to exploit it in return.

But even so, the core of this game was fundamentally provided by the Warehouse: the ability to infinitely reset until the Containment was successful.

And Fu Qian had previously confirmed that the Warehouse's authority in this regard was something even certain true Deities could not resist.

In this aspect, Patches was likely no exception.

So with every Containment attempt by the Warehouse, Patches was highly likely to be synchronously reset.

When facing Fu Qian or his predecessors, he would retain neither the memories nor the awareness of the previous attempt.

Not until those pitiful predecessors saw their SAN Values drop to zero and were utterly drained and devoured—or their SAN Values didn't hit zero but the employee bailed out, forcing the Warehouse to accept a failed outcome as reality—could he claim his spoils all at once and retain the experience of that final run.

Of course, the same held true even if the Warehouse succeeded.

If Patches wasn't lying, he was merely ditching a toy and fleeing, while retaining the memories of the entire failed process. He would just harvest slightly fewer SAN Values.

The only unlucky ones were the Horse Legs.

They would be pinned to death inside the personas they had built for themselves, trapped in a perfect posture of self-deception.

"I have to say, it really is an interesting game!"

Fu Qian was always practical and realistic; he didn't hold back his praise for the game's exquisite structure.

"Hehehe... I saw it early on, you are different."

Patches's tone even carried the feeling of having met a kindred spirit.

"Things like justice and morality mean absolutely nothing to you. Deep down, you're actually more my kind of person."

"You flatter me. So you must have instructed the Horse Legs on how to create this toy?"

Fu Qian acted as open-minded as an empty valley, all while remaining clever and fond of learning.

"A forty-eight-hour window once a year to perform a flawless test, and a special killing intent might descend from the heavens. Succeed, and you gain massive feedback; fail, and your body dies and Dao dissipates?"

"I must say, this reminds me of the concept of Tribulation Transcending."

"Tribulation Transcending... that's quite an interesting way to put it, hehe..."

Patches's treacherous laughter continued.

"Speaking of which, among these four Horse Legs, Goya should be the first—"

Fu Qian's next question, however, was suddenly interrupted by a sound.

It wasn't Patches. It was similar to the chirp of a cricket, but one could easily tell it was produced entirely by a mechanical structure.

The next moment, Fu Qian reached up and pulled a gold watch from his chest.

He had pinned it there just a short while ago.

And right now, the cricket-like chirping was coming precisely from inside it.

It was the watch's alarm ringing.

Seven fifty.

Fu Qian scrutinized the time on the dial, remaining silent for a moment.

He was absolutely certain that he had set the alarm himself.

The problem was, why did I set such an alarm?

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