Eldritch Horror Theatre

If true, the Punished Consort’s fate was rather tragic—he seemed to hold two pieces of her remains in his hands alone.

The lighting shifted abruptly, but his destination was exactly as expected.

Although it had taken a little extra effort, he had ultimately brought the tea leaves back.

It was the prime business hour of the day. Fu Qian sat in his dedicated chair behind the counter, studying the empty Bookstore.

As he busied himself brewing the tea, he felt highly satisfied with the incidental gains from his trip.

It felt as though many details had finally connected and made sense.

Take Old Man Ji Feng’s connection to the Laria Royal Court, for instance.

It seemed that mission from years ago was likely the starting point of their bond.

Even though he had dealt a heavy blow to the Laria Royal Court, Old Man Ji had theoretically still protected the world.

He had also reaped quite a few rewards in the process, both material and spiritual.Like his understanding of the concept of bloodlines, for example.

In Fu Qian’s view, even if the Warehouse had been half-dead back then just like it was now, the mission completion summary alone would have provided a substantial amount of information on the subject.

Or knowledge regarding world barriers.

Opportunities for close contact with a genuine Cosmic Deity were incredibly rare, even if this one seemed to have left behind a few hidden dangers.

He just didn’t know whether the old man had grasped the fact that the face might belong to the Dark Moon.

Additionally, if the Bronze Madam had been crafted from the Punished Consort, judging by the situation at the end of the mission, the Warehouse wouldn’t have handed that item out as a reward because the Punished Consort was still very much alive.

Therefore, Old Man Ji likely used a method similar to the Emissary Mask to synchronize specifically to the Bookstore World later on, seeking out the Laria Family to collect it.

No matter how he looked at it, the old man had definitely discovered its value during the mission and excavated it afterward.

Taking it a step further, could the bloodline mysteries surrounding the Ji Clan or the Yuan Clan also be related to this experience?

Through the mission, Ji Feng had witnessed an incredible power and attempted to digest and test it in his own way.

At least in Fu Qian’s eyes, the probability of this predecessor simply wanting to spread his seed and get rich by having many children was rather low.

It was truly enviable. With a mission of such vast scope and Depth, who knew how many key projects it could spawn?

Nowadays, the Warehouse was secretive about everything it did, acting as if saying one extra word would exhaust it to death.

Picking up his cup for a deep drink, Fu Qian felt a profound yearning for the treatment his predecessor might have enjoyed. In the next moment, his gaze fell upon a face outside the door.

...

No need to panic; it wasn’t Chief Yuan coming to join the fun again.

That person’s attention was currently squarely focused on their mentor, quietly awaiting good news.

Nor was it Demigod Serana showing up at his door again to ask for guidance and mooch some tea.

Having just settled on a grand plan to strive for Tier 2, there was no way she could digest the legacy of a Blood Clan Demigod that swiftly.

And it certainly wasn’t Brother Taylor coming to act as a wealth-delivering boy, helping him expand his business scope.

That guy probably couldn’t even take a single step out of his front door right now.

Outside the door was an unfamiliar face, a woman in her early twenties.

Beneath her leisurely posture lay a hint of travel-worn fatigue—in plain terms, she had the face of a tourist.

Enjoying the quiet afternoon in Shangjing, she was clearly drawn to the small street-side shop, especially to the sight of the boss slouched there drinking tea.

Judging by her hopeful gaze, she seemed to yearn for this proactive lifestyle and wanted to be invited in.

Tsk, tsk... what was the phrase again? Booming business?

Fu Qian was naturally very satisfied with such great momentum.

And not just on the commercial side. Thanks to the Red Moon’s sponsorship, he could now manage various domains in perfect order without even leaving the house.

As the saying goes: holding a group meeting at the Academy, seeking serendipity on Ye Island, looking for an old friend in a past location, and severing a dragon’s whip—pah, dragon’s shoulder—at the Blood Lake.

In short, thanks to the spatial traversal function, this brief half-day had been quite fulfilling, and he even had time to rush back and open the shop for business.

Swish—

Amidst his smug satisfaction, Fu Qian stood up and walked forward. Meeting those rather pretty eyes, he raised his hand and shut the blinds.

Why were the minds of scholars so rigid? Who mandated that one had to do business during prime hours?

In the blink of an eye, the small shop grew even quieter, shutting out even prying eyes.

Without pausing, Fu Qian returned behind the counter, poured himself another cup of tea, and savored it slowly.

As for the woman outside, he hoped this Shangjing afternoon would bring some fruitful gains to her life.

Besides, it wasn’t that he refused to make money; he just hadn’t finished taking inventory yet.

Speaking of direct teleportation without leaving the house, aside from the Anywhere Door provided by the Red Moon, he actually had another place he could go—

He didn’t reach for his face. Instead, a black and red Ring appeared in Fu Qian’s hand, its various parts constantly meshing and shifting.

As he casually toyed with it, the scenery before his eyes began to flow and shift once more.

In the next instant, there was no longer any tea at hand, only a dilapidated throne beneath him.

...

The Abandoned Prison.

No matter how high one’s achievements were in various fields, one must never forget their own name.

Such as the King of the Abandoned Prison.

Truthfully, whether it was the Warehouse, the Bookstore, or the Laboratory, his theoretical relationship with them was nowhere near as intimate as his bond with this place.

Studying the molten sand beneath his feet that seemed to still hold residual heat, Fu Qian didn’t mind the desolation. His mind effortlessly sketched out what this place had once looked like.

Theoretically, there was no place better suited for his lunch break than here.

Admittedly, the Burial Scroll was currently on cooldown, making it inconvenient to try establishing contact with Excellency Dragon King again.

Unbothered by this minor imperfection, Fu Qian assumed a lazy posture similar to his usual one in the Bookstore, and even pulled out an object to cover his face.

A clown-like mask smiling with tears of blood down the sides of its eyes—it was none other than the Mask of the Destined God.

”So the path can’t be seen here...”

After just a single breath, Fu Qian casually pulled the mask off and muttered to himself.

It was nothing special. Upon his arrival at the Abandoned Prison, that perpetually straight ”path to godhood” was surprisingly invisible when he wore the mask.

He had to admit—this was truly good news.

Indeed, one shouldn’t look at things merely on the surface.

If the path could be seen in the Bookstore but not in the Abandoned Prison, what did that mean?

Simple. It meant the destination likely wasn’t as transcendent as the Abandoned Prison. Instead, it possessed true physical coordinates within the Bookstore World, massively reducing the difficulty of finding it.

Wasn’t that detail alone good enough news?

Of course, coming here just for this single realization wasn’t enough.

Stowing the mask away, Fu Qian rolled up his left sleeve.

Last time he visited the Dragon King, he had received an interesting gift.

Crimson Frenzy... Now that he had returned to the loyal Abandoned Prison, that dark red pattern had grown increasingly sinister.

In the blink of an eye, the sand beneath his feet seemed dyed in blood.

A scene from the past repeated itself as the crimson mist rapidly began to spread.