Eldritch Horror Theatre

Gaining nothing is also a kind of harvest.

Although the remark practically invited a beating, Fu Qian wasn’t just wasting time spouting nonsense.

At this moment, the two of them were already standing in the underground levels of the Shanzhou Academy Main Building.

Pillars, stone slabs, and engravings... in all fairness, the architecture looked even grander and more solemn than the Apocalypse facility.

But that was it. To begin with, it looked remarkably empty at a glance—though it was hard to say whether the instructors of the Benevolent Curse Institute had simply taken everything useful home with them.

Secondly, this was clearly the lowest floor; there was simply no more space underneath.

Combined with the deep pit before them, it made it seem as though His Excellency the Prison Archangel knew his days were numbered. He had deliberately chosen this auspicious geomantic land, sitting right in this spot to quietly await the meteor’s descent.

The Meteor of Fate had struck so ruthlessly that even the dangerous remains a Tier 2 Transcendent might leave behind upon death had been completely obliterated, leaving only a tiny trace of residue devoid of any supernatural power.

It sounded reasonable enough, and the logic flowed smoothly.

If that was truly the case, Classmate Su Gao could just go write her report right now.Unfortunately, Fu Qian wasn’t entirely convinced.

For a very simple reason: if the target had truly been that accepting of his own death, the meteor might not have fallen in the first place.

Having desperately dragged out his survival for a full fifty-nine hours, there was no reason for him to put on a front of facing death with open arms.

The only problem now was that they couldn’t sense anything special inside this deep pit, which was undeniably the epicenter of the explosion. It just looked like a giant bird’s nest—whether viewed through the perception of a Tier 2 Transcendent or through Demigod Su’s Power of Echo.

”Are some of the remains still in a state of concealment?”

Sure enough, even Su Gao—who didn’t even know about the Typhoid Fear Effect—didn’t think things were that simple.

After gazing intently at the crater for a moment, she offered her own guess.

”The meteor only touched its target and had no effect on anything else. This seems to imply that the target’s state was fundamentally distinct from its surroundings.”

Bending down thoughtfully, she picked up a gray feather.

”When attacked, he somehow temporarily detached from the Real World, but it still didn’t work. Unable to maintain that state at the moment of his collapse, the impact bled into the surroundings and left these things behind?”

Seeing that Mr. Fu was listening closely, Su Gao didn’t hold back, detailing the reasoning behind her deduction.

”A reasonable guess. And judging from our previous clashes, the Prison Archangel did indeed possess an absurdly powerful concealment ability.

”So the next question is: why did he choose to be here?”

Casually offering his praise, Fu Qian didn’t give a definitive answer to her guess about the remains; instead, he posed a new question.

Just as he had noted earlier, he didn’t believe the Prison Archangel felt any sense of resignation. Rather, the entity would have definitely struggled until the very last moment.

The problem naturally followed: although this place was grand and its underground depth was sufficient, it was ultimately just a slightly larger building. Trying to use it to block a meteor was simply asking too much of it.

”...Because he felt it still wasn’t enough?

”He could achieve a very high degree of concealment anywhere, but he didn’t think it was enough to deal with the mark you placed on him. And this place could help him do it better.”

Professor Fu had undoubtedly provided crucial information, guiding her forward step by step, and Su Gao attempted an answer after a brief thought.

”And he did indeed do it better. Up until now, neither of us has found anything special, have we?”

Leaping lightly to the other side of the pit, Fu Qian nodded as he surveyed their surroundings.

...

She was truly worthy of being an elite of the Yama Enforcer Squad. Once the target was confirmed, Classmate Su Gao displayed not only astonishing hunting intuition but also incredibly clear reasoning.

Fu Qian largely agreed with her earlier judgment.

The few points still up for debate were merely because she hadn’t actively participated in the preceding events and lacked that intuitive firsthand experience.

Take the Meteor of Fate that had descended from the sky, for instance. It was true that it possessed a locking and tracking effect, but as the initiator and a full-time observer, Fu Qian could sense its extra destructive property that targeted the victim exclusively.

In other words, even if the Prison Archangel hadn’t hidden himself and had instead livestreamed the hardcore stunt of taking a meteor to the face to the crowd from the Academy, he likely still would have been the only one affected.

”Makes sense. So what we need to look for now is very likely a special space that lies just beyond our perception.”

Encouraged, Su Gao didn’t slack off. Her gaze followed Fu Qian’s movements as they surveyed their surroundings together.

”It’s right nearby, underneath this building. That dead Archangel originally hid inside to evade the strike but failed... Perhaps the instructors of the Benevolent Curse Institute might know something about it?”

It was obvious her thinking wasn’t rigid at all; she had no qualms about mobilizing outside parties to aid their efforts.

”Perhaps, but there’s little hope of that. In my opinion, the person most likely to know about this left a long time ago.”

Fu Qian was naturally referring to Nepheli. It felt as though this former Dean of the Benevolent Curse Institute likely grasped far more secrets than the others.

As for the reason... it was simple: she was the only one who had run away.

As the saying goes, the more you know, the more dangerous you become. There had to be a reason for her to make such a shocking move.

Of course, what Su Gao said was completely correct. After heading out, they would definitely have to try collecting information on this matter.

”That kind of meteor is the only thing clearly capable of reaching it right now. But this involves a matter of sequence—did the target have to be locked on before going inside?”

At this moment, Su Gao was still racking her brains.

As the only successful precedent so far, the meteor was an easily conceived method, but she obviously still leaned toward not bothering Professor Fu too much.

”Exactly. In theory, the prerequisite for using a meteor to pinpoint that space is finding the space first. Of course, we could also just drop one here and see what happens, but that would require waiting quite a long time.”

Fu Qian was never one to stand on ceremony; even as he answered, he immediately emphasized the objective difficulties.

Of course, if he really wanted to help find such a space, he had plenty of methods at his disposal.

Eternally Lucid Mind, Mythical Form, Resplendent Tyrant, and even Blood Crusade could all be given a try.

But just like Su Gao’s subconscious hesitation, showing his face openly in this matter was one thing; displaying too many methods and actively dominating the investigation might give people a completely different impression of him.

”Understood.”

Listening intently, Su Gao gave a slight nod. As expected, she didn’t show any disappointment. Instead, she turned to stare thoughtfully at the feather she had just picked up, and then at the sword in her hand.

The next moment, her fingers loosened, letting the feather quietly drift down. Before it even touched the ground, a blade swept past, slicing it neatly in two.

Her gaze was calm and tranquil, as if she were carefully savoring the feel of the strike.

Su Gao’s actions hadn’t ended there. With a backhand strike, she slashed at another feather that had been swept up by her movements.