Eldritch Horror Theatre

A will that had witnessed countless transcendent mysteries and pierced the truth of the world through an alternative perspective.

A desperate deathmatch where one dared not retreat a single step, unleashing a lifetime of knowledge and power to slaughter an inner demon without reservation.

Such an eye-opening opportunity was exceedingly rare to encounter.

Ever since witnessing this authority from Akons, Fu Qian’s immediate reaction had been to find an opportunity for a meeting. Why else would he have worked so hard to track them down later?

Upon realizing the anomalies displayed by the Linghui Courtyard, he had faintly sensed an opening—otherwise he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to show up at their door and draw their ire.

As it proved, the painstaking person is not failed by heaven. The opportunity had finally arrived.

Of course, the probability that he would hear the Dao in the morning and die that very morning was noticeably high.

Because all of this ”Dao” had manifested for the sole purpose of killing him.

He canceled the Blood Crusade. Upon his return to the front of the Apocalypse Branch, the pair of Yin-Yang Sword Saints predictably materialized alongside him.

At the same time, his surroundings had become completely unrecognizable.All sorts of bizarre bodies, similar to those streetlamp hounds, prowled the area and instantly locked onto him.

Their Rank might not compare to the sword saints, but their connection to the Fungal Emperor—the will that could awaken at any moment—was undoubtedly much closer. They had even just demonstrated the ability to use Damage Transfer.

Moreover, this thriving momentum seemed to confirm his earlier pessimistic theory: the higher entities conceived by Master Yuhun’s imagination would not fade away over time. They could only be helped along manually—just as they were trying to help him.

Unfortunately, as everyone knew... an inner demon was hard to eradicate.

Buffing up halfway through a fight? As if he couldn’t do the same.

At the exact moment he materialized, wounds tore open directly across Fu Qian’s already battered body, parting like the gills of a fish.

Mark of Old Days.

Along with Commandment Residue, Decree of Return, and Resplendent Tyrant...

Weapons, is it? As if he didn’t have one too.

Grasping at the void, a slender, elegant Longsword appeared in Fu Qian’s hand the next moment.

An idealist resorting to physical elimination—what could possibly bring a materialist warrior more comfort than this?

Apologies, but my Three Waiting for One will not lose.

...

The world trembled.

This was only the second time three rings had been activated simultaneously since he became the avatar of the False Law authority.

The last time, it had even stirred slight ripples within the perpetually composed Warehouse.

Not to mention the essential concept of wounds: the Mark of Old Days.

With the Four Rings activated simultaneously, amidst a blinding radiance, wounds continually tore open even in the space before his eyes.

It progressed to the point where the scene he had witnessed earlier—countless fungal threads connecting heaven and earth—completely unfolded before his eyes step by step.

Very good. I am gradually understanding everything.

Before his eyes, everything was rapidly transforming to match the two sword saints opposite him, leaving nothing behind but the pale-gray essence of fungal threads.

Sunlight, the cold wind, and even gravity itself... all of this still existed, yet it found a new interpretation upon those trembling fungal threads.

If ordinary mortals were to witness this scene, their only thought would be that they had pierced the fundamental truth of the world, falling to their knees in worship.

What a pity. A true materialist was always far more vulgar.

So insufferably vulgar that they would delusionally attempt to comprehend everything indescribable using nothing but fragile willpower, fallacy-riddled knowledge, and the short-sighted vision of a summer insect...

That ”He” was in the midst of reviving, but Fu Qian had absolutely no intention of soothing Him, nor did he even have the interest to wait.

Taking a step forward, he swung Sword Three Short of One in a direct horizontal slash.

Come. If you are the truth, prove it to this seat.

...

Agonized wails filled the air.

He might not understand sword techniques, and he might have forgotten sword intent, but none of that diminished the sheer destructive power of a Tier 2 combatant striking with full force.

Fungal threads danced through the sky like white hair. Under that single strike, nearly a quarter of the surging monsters rushing toward him lost the chance to retreat.

It appeared that not all damage could be mitigated through Damage Transfer. For a vessel whose Rank was too low, the probability of the transfer failing was high.

Take this sword strike of his, for instance. It had actually hit nearly half of the monsters.

Even as Fu Qian mentally critiqued the results, Sword Three Short of One slashed out again without hesitation, striking the Female Sword Saint just as she materialized like a ghost.

Naturally, when the target possessed a sufficient Rank, the success rate of the transfer remained absurdly high.

This strike still completely failed to inflict any damage upon her. Instead, combining with her own attack, it instantly ravaged his body beyond recognition.

But what did that matter?

Almost simultaneously, the gaping hole in Fu Qian’s chest rapidly knitted itself shut.

A rigorous attitude toward testing had always been the ultimate weapon of any academic researcher.

When he first acquired Sword Three Short of One, the few experimental stabs he had inflicted upon himself in the Warehouse had made its properties exceedingly clear.

Stabbing himself directly would indeed not heal the wound inflicted by that specific thrust, but it could heal other injuries.

Namely, the second stab would heal the first.

Damage Transfer, is it? This old man is already covered in scars; what does it matter if I end up chopping myself?

It was merely a matter of siphoning his own blood.

Not to mention a mob of cannon fodder with such a pathetic success rate, what did it matter even against the sword saints?

If you can raise that probability to a flawless one hundred percent, then go ahead and prove it.

Otherwise, the moment this seat drew this weapon belonging to the Knight, you really should have come up with a different strategy.

...

Squelch—

White hair and crimson blood flew together as his chest and back were cleaved open simultaneously.

The exchange proved that the Flirtatious Glance Sword Technique was formidable indeed. In their wanton, brutal counter-offensive, catastrophic wounds like disembowelment and pierced chests barely even registered anymore; he had been sliced and broken into an aberrant freak more than once.

However, the facts also proved that even for two sword path saints exerting unyielding pressure, the success rate of Damage Transfer was not one hundred percent.

Aside from the wounds torn open by the Mark of Old Days, Fu Qian had already successfully landed more than one strike.

Their offensive might have been ferocious, but his strategy was also simple—my sword is not dull either.

He leveraged the advantage of his Health Bar to tank their attacks head-on, simultaneously abandoning defense and applying the Calamity Curse, inflicting massive damage to forcibly siphon his lost health right back.

And the most comforting aspect of all was that the ruinous power they inflicted proved capable of being offset by the healing of Sword Three Short of One, sparing him the need for any extra countermeasures.

The ultimate result produced was that the revealed ”truth of the world,” just like the world that had been torn apart earlier, was already letting out bouts of ”wailing.”

But it still wasn’t enough—Boom!

As endless fungal threads whipped through the air, just as Sword Three Short of One worked in tandem with the Female Sword Saint to carve two fresh wounds into his body, Fu Qian plunged his empty off-hand straight into the stomach of the other sword saint, successfully executing a devastating Visceral Attack.

That was right—thanks to the convoluted mechanics of Damage Transfer, that missing appendage had already grown back.

Before his momentarily stiffened opponent could react, Fu Qian could feel that something else had locked onto him, and even the wailing world fell into peace at that moment.

So you’ve finally awakened.

Surging with gratification, he did not hesitate to extend a warm welcome.

His already exaggerated physique continued to expand, and his Mythical Form activated.