Eldritch Horror Theatre

It was not enough.

If this ”Him” was stuck in the mainstream half-dead state—much like the other higher entities he had previously associated with—then coaxing Him to reveal more of Himself would require a little push.

Judging by the chaotic state of the mark on his hand, that was almost certainly the case.

As for how to provide that push?

He had roped a descendant of royalty into performing as a dancer—wasn’t that sincere enough?

Besides, according to Clara’s father, her recent actions amounted to blasphemy against the Deity.

To have it happen here, by some strange twist of fate, perfectly recreated the utmost pride of the Vinland Family.

But what if the dancer converted?

What if she no longer treated the dance as mere entertainment, but restored its original religious nature?

Wouldn’t the nature of her actions undergo a complete one-eighty? Wouldn’t it be the equivalent of taking the pride of the Vinland Family and offering it up entirely as a sacrifice to Him?All things considered, it would be hard to find a more sincere welcoming ceremony in all of Lanphilai. Ms. Clara’s years of bitter training had not been in vain.

”...Alright.”

Plagued by an obsession that had haunted her for years, Clara stared at him before finally succumbing to the urge, reaching out to take the lit incense.

...

On with the music, on with the dance.

As the wisps of smoke danced once more, the mark on his palm accelerated its spread deep into his flesh.

Even without Transcendent Perception, Fu Qian could confirm that that excellency had answered the invitation.

Greatly gratified, he cherished the opportunity and didn’t miss a single subtle change occurring in his body.

If the previous malice had only been a probing attempt, his second invitation had undoubtedly drawn out His full strength.

The chaos, snowballing into an avalanche, raged wildly. Its intensity was already far beyond what an ordinary being in the Demigod Realm could endure—but he could take it.

In no rush to elevate his Rank, Fu Qian maintained relatively weak resistance, striving to let the chaos express itself as vividly as possible.

This was a clash between two higher entities over authority.

For understanding this pinnacle form of power, it was an incredibly precious observation sample. How could he easily let it go to waste?

Fu Qian’s first conclusion from his observation was this: although the Third Cause initially hadn’t even displayed effects of the Transcendent Tier, its degree of corruption was quite severe.

To put it in technical terms, that ”Him” had already made a rather weighty claim.

His reasoning came from attempting to use the Third Cause to nullify the pollution channeled into him.

Its activation was entirely seamless and met with zero interference.

Conversely, however, the results left much to be desired.

It worked, but only partially.

Just as the Third Cause had been described before, it inserted itself like a breakpoint into the threads of fate, redirecting malicious causes aimed at himself elsewhere so they would no longer affect him.

Given Fu Qian’s degree of control over authority, the targets of this redirection weren’t even limited to the negative.

It could be considered quite a domineering ability. And yet, an essential portion of the corruption crossing over through time and space remained; it hadn’t been completely led astray.

The authority only worked in part, as if someone was actively countering its effects.

Without a doubt, the one doing this was that higher entity.

To be able to match the ”master” of the authority to such an extent proved that His usurpation plan was progressing ideally. Given enough time, He really might claim it completely.

The Warehouse calling him over here hadn’t been a random assignment after all.

Aside from that, there was another gain: he had formed a direct, intuitive understanding of the clash over a shared authority.

This was a remarkably meaningful experience.

Keep in mind, based on what he had learned before, the underlying chaos of the world forced higher entities to vie with each other for authority to stabilize themselves, resulting in a highly complex power structure.

It was highly likely that different higher entities could grasp the same authority.

Looking at it now, if it really came down to a fight, they wouldn’t simply nullify each other’s authority. Instead, it would be a contest over their degree of ”control.”

But how exactly could this degree of control be improved? What was its most fundamental meaning...?

As Fu Qian pondered, his other hand tapped lightly on the armrest, keeping time with the rhythm of Clara’s movements.

Having watched the performance earlier in the day, doing this was hardly difficult for him.

Though the tapping was light, Clara instantly seemed ”encouraged” by it, sinking even deeper into the zone.

With every gesture, the inhuman undertone grew even more pronounced.

If an ordinary person stared too long, they might just comprehend a bit of worldly truth like form is emptiness—though it seemed they wouldn’t get the chance.

”Phew... Is that enough?”

Without realizing it, another song had already come to an end.

Clara drew a soft, shallow breath and stood there for a moment before walking back over.

”Thanks for the hard work. It seemed a little different from the one you danced just now?”

Fu Qian gave a slight nod, offering his review of the performance with a thoroughly earnest expression.

”Because it’s originally more than just one segment.”

This time, Clara didn’t need Fu Qian to remind her; she proactively leaned against the Chair to rest, explaining casually.

”Oh? So how many segments are there in total?”

Fu Qian immediately looked quite intrigued.

”Four—what are you trying to do?”

Only after answering did Clara realize what was happening. She stared at Fu Qian with a vigilant look.

”Didn’t you gain something just now? Some feeling you’ve never had before? Don’t you want to try again?”

Fu Qian didn’t even bother hiding his intention to keep exploiting her.

”The feeling was certainly a bit special, but your hand... and the incense has already burned out.”

Easily swayed, Clara spaced out for a brief moment.

But she quickly pointed at the pattern on Fu Qian’s hand, which seemed even more vivid than before, and gestured toward the second stick of incense.

It was obvious that she was quite resistant to the idea of performing another segment.

”It doesn’t matter.”

Unfortunately, the man in question was startlingly easygoing, waving a hand to indicate she shouldn’t worry.

”Ah... you’re both here?”

Almost the very next moment, another voice rang out from behind. It was the tour leader A Lian, stepping into the starlight.

...

Of course, it wasn’t just a coincidence. Tapping out that rhythm earlier hadn’t been solely for the sake of accompaniment.

”I heard a strange sound but didn’t see any lights, so I thought I’d come check it out.”

The moment she spoke, A Lian walked up beside them, clarifying that she hadn’t been tailing them.

”We both agreed it looks better this way. Do you have any more incense on you?”

Under Clara’s somewhat dumbfounded gaze, Fu Qian reached out in greeting and asked casually.

Given that the couple had backed out at the last minute, A Lian likely still had leftover materials on her.

”I do. You still want to use it?”

The tour leader was straightforward as well, pulling off her backpack and rummaging through it without caring at all about the cost.

”Yes. Also, this clearly counts as an extra request.”

Fu Qian didn’t stand on ceremony. Watching her pull out two more bundles of incense, he casually fished two banknotes from his pocket and handed them over.

Hmm...

Even in the dim light, Clara could tell at a glance that the denomination was huge—and that they were the exact two notes she had given him.