Eldritch Horror Theatre

Words are powerless things, especially to a higher entity.

Given Herbert’s extensive experience serving a higher entity, he should have understood this deeply.

Given his mere status as the First Apostle, with eyes that were not even naturally blood-red...

...even if his loyalty was beyond question, what gave him the confidence that Annalise would listen to him once he found her?

Regardless of how much of her original nature remained, she was no longer that lost, wandering girl.

With him as her witness, her last trace of weakness had long been sealed away within the Ancient Reminiscence.

Herbert deserved some praise for being clever because, while demonstrating his undying determination, he hadn’t forgotten to consider this problem: if words lacked the power to persuade her, he might as well present a victim as an example.

A victim ”polluted” by the dream and driven to madness.

Yes, turning himself into a recording tape to capture this agonizing torment wasn’t as meaningless as it seemed.

As long as he could reach Annalise and let her see this......he wouldn’t need words. It would surely arouse some vigilance in that higher entity.

This strategy even perfectly bypassed the previous question: did Herbert know exactly what lay behind the ”Lie”?

Was it the King of Nightmares, or the Primordial Moon?

He didn’t need to know. ’I may not understand what kind of blade struck me, but I can tear open my wounds and lay them bare before you.’

’I know you can no longer trust me completely, but I only hope to raise your guard, even slightly.’

This was the true goal of this Dream Chaser.

What a pity. The ignorant man struggling in the dream seemed unable to accomplish that goal, even at the very last moment.

Even after exhausting every method and burning himself to the absolute limit.

Not only had his will completely collapsed, but his body had deformed right along with it.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been entirely bad news. After all, the more miserable his state, the more it would presumably trigger the blood-red moon’s vigilance.

Unfortunately, this continuously accumulating advantage never reached the moment it could be cashed in.

Even more tragically, the figure before him—the one that had filled him with ecstatic joy and drawn out his last ounce of strength—was not the real Progenitor of the Blood Clan.

The latter no longer existed in this world. His devotion was destined never to be received.

”There really isn’t much time left.”

Empathy was one thing, but Fu Qian didn’t waste a single second mourning.

After reaching a consensus with Patches for the final time, he didn’t need the other party to urge him on. He simply continued speaking.

Snap.

”Then let’s begin.”

With that light snap of his fingers, he once again activated Finger Pulp.

As well as Resplendent Tyrant.

And Commandment Residue.

That day, the Four Rings King of the Abandoned Prison descended upon the world once more.

Even in an unseen corner, a drop of the Tyrant’s blood stained the Burial Scroll.

’This seat’s perception is by no means dull; do not underestimate a papal bestowal—’

The Burial Scroll’s effective duration wasn’t long, but fortunately, the remaining time in the deity’s lingering dream wasn’t long either.

It wasn’t just the ten minutes Patches had warned about; right now, he also had to withstand the pressure of four stacked rings.

As mentioned before, he had long researched the coupling between Laws. Ever since entering this place, Fu Qian had actually been extremely careful to avoid distorting the Law within.

This was why, after activating Finger Pulp to instantly obliterate that pile of Transcendent Tier limbs, he had immediately turned it off.

But today was different. The pitiful amount of information Herbert carried had already been fully extracted.

Next came the moment for full-power output, to see if he could help the man get his wish.

Yes, the greatest significance of activating the Four Rings was that, as the Dream Polluter and the fake Progenitor of the Blood Clan, he would violently knead the elements of Pseudo-Law, Law, and Dream together.

It sounded a lot like the previously mentioned burning zithers and cooking cranes. He had even specifically activated the Burial Scroll just to ensure he didn’t miss the aroma of the cooked crane.

But Fu Qian still didn’t intend to make that simple and crude strategy his sole objective. Herbert had ultimately failed to see Annalise; whether it was due to the Primordial Moon or the King of Nightmares, he had clearly encountered a tremendous barrier.

Then, relying on the ultimate confrontation between the true and false Laws, with the divine dream being torn apart beyond recognition under their coupling, was it possible that a few loopholes might appear?

And furthermore, would this millennia-spanning obsession then pierce through certain barriers and point toward something special?

Truth be told, the moment he realized this man was Herbert, Fu Qian had already entertained a similar idea, preparing to use this to bring the divine dream to its final curtain call.

Now, with Excellency Patches’s sharing, and the suspicions regarding the King of Nightmares and the Primordial Moon, this operation undeniably gained even more theoretical support.

Even from Patches’s perspective, though it seemed Fu Qian would have done this whether Patches spoke up or not, the underlying meaning was completely different.

Because later, when analyzing and judging certain matters, Patches would have to factor in Fu Qian’s motives as well.

All in all, perhaps this was the true meaning of cooperation.

As for whether the First Apostle actually possessed that kind of luck? Let’s wait and see.

”What’s going on?!”

Unsurprisingly, the first scream of the Law’s new era still came from the duo inside the fetal egg.

Auspicious rays spiraled, and radiant light scorched the heavens.

This was supported by a genuine Pseudo-Law Core, with a full stack of Four Rings.

Not to mention it included a Commandment Residue specifically meant to blind people’s eyes.

It was entirely normal for the two core members of The Club, who had always been prone to making a fuss, to make one now.

”I think I see something!”

Judging from Kikuchi’s reaction, it even seemed his vision had somewhat recovered.

”I see it too. What is that—an Angel?”

Even Old Man Lu Ming finally looked as if his Dao heart had slipped, murmuring that unbelievable title.

”Hehe—you’re causing quite a commotion. Need to hide it a bit more?”

Patches, who spoke up next, gestured behind himself, explaining the source of the duo’s terror.

Over by the shipwreck, a resplendent light had unexpectedly appeared, faintly coalescing into the shape of a curled-up body.

And sprouting from the back of that body was a pair of wings of light stretched to their absolute limit. It was precisely Brother Sanxun, who had been buried earlier.

It was obvious that he was still suffering under minor confinement, leaving him looking rather sluggish.

But this level of exposure was enough. Whether it was Sha Ming or Ibu, they would surely spot it very quickly.

”There’s no need.”

The reason for this phenomenon was naturally the coupling of the true Law and the Pseudo-Law.

The rules of the dream universe were already changing. To put it simply, all sorts of physical constants were wildly jumping around.

The fact that the two old men saw it despite clearly not wanting to look proved this perfectly.

Unfortunately, the two standing here clearly didn’t care much about that.

Facing Patches’s suggestion, Fu Qian merely shook his head slightly, signaling that the destinies of the world should not be forced.

The next moment, he turned around and gazed at the originally empty starry sky—which was no longer empty.

A moon.

In Fu Qian’s perception, the area transformed in the blink of an eye. Just like the scene in his memories, a massive moon filled the vacant canopy.

The only problem was that the moon wasn’t blood-red. It was blue.

The deep, ghostly blue that had been on Herbert.