Eldritch Horror Theatre

”The path to gods is severed, ashes form the ladder.”

Senior Ji Feng, it seems you couldn’t stay out of this after all.

Some things seem unrelated at first, but once you make the connection, the implications are staggering.

The last time he saw ”Physical Containment of Thought,” it had involved a group of court ladies being decapitated in unison, their thoughts converging into an exaggeratedly bloated brain.

Later, while attending the Laria Family’s birthday banquet at Ehm Palace, he had incidentally confirmed it was the exact same place.

Of course, this alone only proved that the scene before him was connected to that ancient family; he still hadn’t caught sight of Old Man Ji himself.

But one couldn’t forget his final reward from the Bronze Madam. That exceedingly plain Circlet was an item that only the Ji Clan bloodline could supposedly activate to receive its hidden information.

Furthermore, his research findings from the previous mission at the Unseen Hill proved it was highly likely to be a contingency plan arranged by Old Man Ji.

Most importantly, the Bronze Madam had appeared in his original world. On the question of who was responsible, that fact alone eliminated almost every other suspect, leaving Old Man Ji as the prime candidate.

In short, he had just been wondering why he hadn’t found a single trace of the old man in the Ash Sea, even though the message in the Circlet had directed him here.Right on cue, Old Man Ji proved unwilling to stay out of the spotlight, subtly making his presence known.

Had the old man been here too?

This coincidence alone wasn’t enough to rule out the possibility that he had never set foot here himself, and had merely obtained some critical information from afar.

However, that didn’t change the core question: what was the purpose of the old man’s message?

To guide his descendants?

At first glance, it sounded like simple human nature. Yet, the more Fu Qian learned, the more he realized that the concept of ”Offspring” was nothing but a tool to Old Man Ji.

It was highly likely that no traditional genetic material was even involved. The bloodline connection between the Ji Clan and Him seemed entirely contrived, forcibly designated.

They weren’t the only ones, either. The Yuan Clan, another prominent faction, faintly showed signs of a similar fate.

So, rather than the old man securing a brighter future for his descendants, this ”bloodline” itself was merely a means to an end.

Did the key to His salvation lie here?

From a more utilitarian perspective, this seemed like the most probable motive.

After all, based on their few encounters, even though His Excellency could practically be called the Lord of the Deep, His situation was dire. He was practically suffering from Warehouse-certified insanity.

If He could leverage external help right now—especially the power of the current Warehouse Manager—it would undoubtedly make a difference.

To a certain extent, that message was a covert little scheme between two employees, quietly bypassing the Warehouse.

One couldn’t forget the Warehouse’s stance on the matter, which had been subtly revealed during the last mission: it neither wanted Ji Feng to fall into the hands of the Mother of Gospel, nor did it want Him to regain His full lucidity. Leaving Him in a state of quiet, perpetual madness was best.

Leaving the Bronze Madam in his original world seemed to be a way to minimize interference as much as possible, a vivid testament to a desperate spirit exhausting every avenue just to survive...

The logic flowed smoothly, but there was a lingering flaw. From the moment he arrived until now, apart from the Lord of Intellect’s miraculous handiwork right before his eyes, he hadn’t seen a single trace related to The Deep or a Deep Ashfall.

The Chief Judge, Blazing Rainbow, the Night Watchers... With so many powerful factions in the mix, could the old man really execute some heaven-defying contingency plan and succeed in pulling chestnuts from the fire?

Fu Qian tried putting himself in the old man’s shoes, and even he felt the difficulty was a bit too staggering.

Or was he just measuring a noble mind with a petty heart? Was the old man genuinely trying to enlighten his descendants without demanding anything in return?

He wasn’t intentionally trying to belittle the virtue of his predecessors. While pondering these various possibilities, Fu Qian let his gaze fall upon the brain that had expanded to who knew how many times its original size. He finally decided it was time to stop leaving the Lord of Intellect out in the cold.

”Do you feel a strong urge to change your surname to Ji?”

...

It didn’t look like he did.

Even though the question had escalated to the level of someone’s household registration, one glance made it clear that the Lord of Intellect remained completely unfazed.

His appearance at this moment was undeniably unique. To describe it precisely, it looked as if his skull had blossomed like a flower, yielding an exceptionally plump fruit.

Inside his cracked skull, the numerous tentacles of the Brain Jellyfish were retracting, furiously wriggling their way into the folds and grooves of a brain that was already grossly disproportionate to his body.

Compared to the scene he had witnessed within the Bronze Madam, the only difference was that the previous one had reached full maturity, leaving the rest of its unnecessary body completely desiccated.

”Do you only use your brain for such trivial questions?”

Just as Fu Qian was working hard on his metaphors, the Lord of Intellect finally replied, looking thoroughly exasperated by the sheer mind-numbing nature of the question.

”I will admit, you are truly extraordinary. Those obstacles before must have seemed like mere child’s play to you... As for that man, to you, he is less a tool to be used and more a toy.

”But because of that, I fail to understand your actions.”

Despite his overbearing arrogance, the Lord of Intellect first offered Fu Qian high praise, proving that he possessed a discerning eye.

”What is the point of entangling yourself with such an insect? Even if your bug wins, does it bring you any true amusement, or is it merely a waste of effort?”

As if to prove his point, A Fei charged forward at that exact moment, only to be deflected once more by an invisible barrier. Equating him to a futilely buzzing fly was rather apt.

”It does.”

Fu Qian had undoubtedly noticed this as well, but he simply nodded in a completely natural manner.

”I understand. In that case...”

In the span of those few short sentences, the Lord of Intellect seemed to have fully digested the wisdom of his predecessors. His swelling brain had largely quieted down.

This was despite the fact that the frenzied symphony triggered by the web earlier hadn’t stopped in the slightest; instead, it had only grown more intense.

He seemed to have no intention of arguing with Fu Qian anymore. Instead, he turned his palm flat toward A Fei and performed a peculiar gesture.

And A Fei, who had just been fighting to the bitter end in a state of sheer frenzy, froze in an instant.

...

Oh?

He had to admit, compared to his terrible dialogue earlier, this move finally gave him the air of a true higher entity.

At the very least, A Fei was now in the realm of a Divine Being. Considering his maddened yet hyper-focused state, achieving such an effect was no easy feat.

Of course, what was even more ironic was that just a moment ago, the man had been condemning him for playing with toys—only to join in on the game the very next second.

He had even conjured up a bug of his own. Were they really about to have a cricket fight?

Indeed, Fu Qian noted that the real reason A Fei had suddenly frozen was that a second A Fei had just materialized across from him.

Intangible yet possessing a distinct shape, a Shadow now stood in a standoff with the original.

A Shadow?

This scene instantly reminded him of the cleanup targets that the officers arriving in Moore had to face, starting all the way back from Depth 1.

After such an endless string of trials and tribulations, had Brother A Fei finally returned to his roots?