Eldritch Horror Theatre

It was no one’s church, but merely a symbol of an abstract concept.

Not a particularly surprising answer, either.

”Thank you.”

Thanking the Tombkeeper for the explanation, Fu Qian stepped forward and took a seat at the long table.

As an afterlife paradise, the Realm of Bliss had so far revealed very few traces related to a higher entity.

That was exactly why the Church had sparked his interest the moment he saw it.

Yet it seemed that whether in the City of Sin or this true City of Bliss, the residents had no concept of the Stomach he had once laid eyes on.

It seemed the building simply existed here, and they interpreted it based on their own assumptions.

But he couldn’t do the same.

Although he hadn’t suffered any targeted attacks yet, his history with that Stomach ran rather deep.Not only had he destroyed the projection of the White-Headed Sanctuary, he had even killed its Attendant of Ecstasy—and naturally, he had fleeced it for all it was worth.

In short, if he were recognized, expecting It to maintain a friendly posture would be asking too much.

Even if that entity proved magnanimous enough not to hold a grudge, he still had his mission to consider.

Could It be the ”Ancient One” he needed to eliminate?

Honestly, he couldn’t rule it out, because there seemed to be a clear progression—

Inside the fake City of Bliss stood a Church without an Emblem, where people enshrouded by karmic obstacles repented their sins.

In the true City of Bliss, the Church’s details were far richer and more accurate, and people treated it as a symbol of bliss, praying inside for divine favor.

What about the Upper Heaven?

Would there already be a Statue of the Stomach standing there?

Even if this wasn’t its divine kingdom, the situation was no better.

The reason was simple: something like this could never appear out of nowhere.

If the mission target wasn’t the Stomach, it meant two distinct forces held malicious intent toward him within the Realm of Bliss.

Right now he was standing in the Church of one, completely unsure of what the other was scheming.

......

”How do people usually pray here?”

This authentic Church was even emptier than the one in the City of Sin.

Fu Qian glanced around. Spotting only a single believer hidden behind a corner curtain, he opted not to disturb them and continued consulting the Tombkeeper.

”Empty your mind. Just know that you are praying for bliss...” the Tombkeeper replied. ”Because it is an existence words cannot describe, any detailed definition is a mistake.”

Despite his earlier disdain for the attempt to pray in the Church, the Tombkeeper reined in his attitude completely the moment he stepped inside.

With a reverent expression and a serious tone, he had already entered the state himself while making the introduction.

Supreme but indescribable, any detailed definition a mistake...

Didn’t that sound a bit like the City of Sin, where everyone repented without knowing who they were actually praying to?

Although the Tombkeeper sounded a bit like a mystic charlatan, deciphering this kind of thing had always been Fu Qian’s strong suit.

Silently pondering its meaning, Fu Qian watched the Tombkeeper quiet down beside him. A moment later, he exhaled and focused his mind as well—but he didn’t empty it.

The contrast between the true and fake Churches was likely an observation the Tombkeeper could easily make as well.

But beyond that, there was actually something else with this indefinable nature—the living, endlessly sublimating pleasure.

He had seen it on the victims implanted with the Seed of Ecstasy.

And aside from never settling for current achievements and always taking it a step further from the top of a hundred-foot pole, what else had he learned from them?

When desire reached its peak, it was purity itself?

Not only did Fu Qian ignore the Tombkeeper’s advice, he even actively imitated the Ecstasy victims he had seen, manifesting a torrent of various desires all at once.

Combining this with the results of his previous investigations—the layered essence of pleasure—he continued to cultivate a new variety of ”Temperance of Temperance” from the rampant desires, nesting it endlessly all the way down.

Brother Gravekeeper’s belief that praying in the Church was useless was likely because he had been applying his effort in the wrong direction.

Bliss might not be absolute purity, but something so complex that he couldn’t distinguish it, like Ecstasy nested to Layer 100.

But what if his judgment was wrong? Then it was wrong.

There was really no need to follow a prayer technique that someone had fumbled with for years and still had a low success rate.

Setting aside how Fu Qian had always rejected the lazy mindset of a Child of Destiny, he never fantasized that doing the exact same thing would allow him to ignore the success rate.

Even if he followed the instructions and actually succeeded, would he dare to accept it when the time came?

There was always a pair of eyes watching from above. When such an anomaly appeared, just how careless would he have to be to think there was no trick to it?

......

Was this ”bliss”?

The White-Headed Church was dead silent, holding only the devout prayers and the turbulence of Fu Qian’s vivid imagination.

And then, at a certain moment, he felt something erupt in his consciousness.

It was like a symbol in his mind matching the winning lottery numbers.

Without needing any further effort on his part, something frantically poured out, rapidly saturating every neural synapse.

Thirty-three.

Even with his brains nearly squeezed dry, Fu Qian kept a clear count. The pleasure in his mind had astoundingly nested to the thirty-third layer.

Without a doubt, it was already completely unrecognizable, its contents beyond the description of language.

But it was precisely this point that made it quite similar to the rushing energy.

As he said, ”bliss” wasn’t necessarily absolute purity...

At that moment, Fu Qian felt very satisfied.

Of course, this emotion was strictly limited to the deduction itself, because right now, his will had no room left for any other sensation.

Under that indescribable bliss, the pleasure he had manifested up to the thirty-third layer was instantly crushed into absolutely nothing.

No wonder the Tombkeeper and the others worshipped ”bliss” so fervently.

And following the satisfaction came awe.

Although he was currently in mortal form, Fu Qian’s will—having undergone repeated extreme tempering, once pushing himself so far he hadn’t dared return to the Real World—was still on an entirely different level from an ordinary mortal’s.

Yet, faced with this overwhelming ”bliss,” he still struggled to cope.

It was a very special sensation, as if all the beauty in the world had been laid out before him, molded into individual musical notes, and finally woven together into an echoing melody.

The joy savored within it came from a higher-level melody, no longer related to any mundane beauty.

This should be the bliss Brother Gravekeeper had mentioned.

To be fair, even though his understanding was flawed, his description had been rather vivid.

And since his own approach had been correct, the results of his brainstorming were quite effective.

What he had just done was actually quite simple. Doing the exact opposite, he had forcefully envisioned multiple layers of pleasure in his mind, eventually triggering a resonance through one of those layers.

But now there was another problem. Now that he had ”bliss,” how was he supposed to use it?