Eldritch Horror Theatre

Whether it was Madam Miranda or Brother Huang Lezhan, they had all been overly optimistic.

Stepping onto the final stair, Fu Qian naturally heard the argument breaking out behind him, but he had no interest in looking back.

For one, this development wasn’t the least bit surprising. For another, the scene before him was simply far more interesting.

This was not an upper floor.

The ”flat stairs” earlier had indeed been a bad omen; the space here had clearly grown even more distorted.

Calculating by altitude, the top of the long staircase shouldn’t have been too far from where they had first entered.

Yet after walking ”up” this entire way, not a single trace of their starting point remained. Instead, looking up, a magnificent pendentive dome loomed overhead.

The imagined Invisible Palace seemed to have grown even more real.

Unlike the flawless white jade of the long staircase they had just climbed, the stone architecture before him—while made of a similar material—boasted far more intricate details and bore the obvious marks of age.

Simply put, it was the difference between brand-new and slightly worn.As he continued forward, not only was there no sign of a way back, but the corruption also seemed to be deepening.

From this perspective, that squad squabbling below, despite wasting time, would at least allow their bliss to last a little longer.

As a professional who had always rejected the bad habit of taking things for granted, Fu Qian had naturally perceived right away whether they were dealing with a waterfall or a flat surface.

As a rescue team, that group was still somewhat lacking in basic qualities—such as adapting to local customs, and allowing their own thinking to become abstract in an abstract environment.

They could hardly complain about being trapped down there.

As for whether he had deliberately given them misleading information to get them killed?

Considering the squad members couldn’t possibly imagine the sheer lethality of a master who had abandoned the pen for the sword, such pointless worries were perfectly normal.

Of course, just as he hadn’t minded pointing out an escape route for them, Fu Qian didn’t mind whether they took it or not.

For him, that little interlude had already yielded quite a harvest.

Aside from learning more about the causes and consequences of this operation, the other takeaway was this ”path of survival” itself.

This place was certainly treacherous at every step, but it didn’t seem in too much of a hurry to strangle its intruders.

Though it tested their comprehension, the predicament had never become a dead end.

Just like the rule that only allowed going down and not up, as long as one was careful and patient enough to figure out how this place operated, there would always be a path forward.

In fact, from the abrupt shifts between these different stylistic zones, he could almost feel it encouraging them to explore more areas.

And naturally, to go deeper.

...

How could he let such grand hospitality go to waste?

While organizing his thoughts, Fu Qian unapologetically answered the call, observing his current surroundings.

Not everything was better when new. Compared to the long staircase earlier, this Great Hall clearly looked one step closer to reality.

Of course, the transition between the two wasn’t completely jarring either.

Inside this magnificent and ornate structure, along both sides of the relatively narrow walkway, the stone walls were impressively inlaid with one red ”mirror” after another, stretching all the way into the distance.

With their vivid color and flawless surfaces, they looked both demonic and noble at a glance.

Indeed, they were made of the exact same material as the Bloodfall Long Staircase he had just walked upon.

Even the very end of the long staircase pointed directly at a mirror facing the steps.

As if summoned by gravity, the red material had flowed downward onto the ground, crossing the smooth floor before finally ”spilling” onto the steps.

Are floor-to-ceiling mirrors the trend these days?

While admiring the decor, Fu Qian didn’t even disrupt the peace, simply stepping over it and continuing along the walkway.

”Bang—”

However, almost completely synchronized with his movement, a sound abruptly rang out, as if a target had been successfully hit.

...

[SAN Value -1]

In fact, it really was a direct hit.

At that exact moment, the familiar system prompt echoed in his ears.

Finally halting his steps, Fu Qian could tell that the sound effect just now had been produced by a human mouth, and it was equally familiar.

Not to mention, the blood-red mirror right next to his hand was already reflecting a figure with radiant wings.

Though the figure’s posture wasn’t quite so solemn—it was currently making a finger-gun gesture.

”Potter—”

Faced with this scene, Fu Qian’s expression instantly turned cold. He had no intention of asking for its esteemed name again like he had during their first meeting; instead, he chose to directly bestow a title upon it.

”You dare—use my own invention against me?”

”Potter?”

It seemed that regardless of the name he used or the line that followed, everything exceeded the comprehension of the Saint in the Mirror.

Although its face was still invisible, there was a genuine hint of confusion in its tone.

”Avada Kedavra—”

Unfortunately, the only response it received was a seemingly familiar, vicious curse.

As that battered Bell Staff pointed forward, an ice-blue spear, fiercer and more ruthless than ever before, howled through the air.

Blood-red shards splattered in all directions.

Becoming more real seemed to come at a cost; that conceptual level of indestructibility appeared to have vanished from the architecture before him.

The moment Fu Qian’s Burning Frost version of the Air Bullet struck the blood mirror, it tore the mirror apart along with the figure of the Saint.

Due to the simultaneously overflowing icy aura, the splashing bright-red liquid froze into tiny ice crystals in mid-air, making it seem as if the Saint’s shattered reflection had been sealed within them.

”SAN Value -1.”

”SAN Value -1.”

”SAN Value -1.”

Unfortunately, before the ice crystals could even hit the ground, three consecutive voices rang out from further down the path.

Within the three closest blood mirrors, three complete figures of the Saints abruptly appeared once again, even employing the forbidden mathematics of multiplication.

Unsurprisingly, three consecutive prompts also chimed in Fu Qian’s ears.

”Arrogance is always accompanied by stupidity, but have you ever considered that certain rules you’ve long believed to be supreme are not actually all that transcendent?”

At the same time, the shadows of the three Saints spoke in unison, delivering a thoroughly imposing negative review.

Why did it feel like they were talking about the Warehouse?

Not that transcendent? How could he not know that?

He’d been subjected to its petty tricks more than once already, yet they were saying it as if delivering some deafening enlightenment.

Unfortunately, for Fu Qian, this only instantly provoked a series of associations and internal mockery.

”Heh... is that so?”

Meanwhile, he also displayed the aloof demeanor of a charlatan; despite the other party’s willingness to chat, he didn’t take the opportunity to casually pump them for information.

Instead, with a cold snort, he raised his arm once again.

”Fengxiao, Glacier Explosion—”

Accompanied by an unfamiliar but seemingly even more powerful incantation, a giant, spiked arm formed from countless freezing crystals burst through his sleeve, tearing apart everything in sight.