Eldritch Horror Theatre

Bring on the pain!

”Darkness” descended once more. The ”young man” had found his new source of suffering.

Under the decree, the light before Fu Qian’s eyes lasted less than three seconds before an entirely different kind of agony surged.

It was noticeably different from the bliss. Even with prior experience, driving away this light proved strenuous, requiring him to figure out the method from scratch.

But looking on the bright side, this meant he got to experience a brand-new flavor of suffering.

Not to mention, he figured it out very quickly.

In the blink of an eye, his perception was once again destroyed by the agony. Plunged back into his self-made Black Box, he had no idea where the exit lay.

Yet Fu Qian didn’t hesitate for a moment, pressing on until he had excised every last trace of this new light.

He wasn’t deliberately taking an unconventional path; he simply didn’t have many chips left to play.

Any random figure like Kako or the Tombkeepers had measured their understanding of this Realm of Bliss in centuries. There was every reason to believe his opponent had been immersed in it for a very long time, possessing far more information than he did.Right now, the only thing he could rely on—aside from the fruits of his usual academic research—was his earlier observation. Even if the other party had seen through the Ninth Heaven, their actions still had to follow the operational rules of each heaven to some extent. They couldn’t just launch a dimensional strike at will.

For example, back in the City of Extreme Evil, they had arranged for his physical elimination on two separate occasions.

Or they had reached through a higher heaven to get the Tombkeepers to nail his Coffin Lid shut.

In short, if there were rules his opponent also had to abide by, then gambling against those rules essentially leveled the playing field, making it fundamentally advantageous for him.

Therefore, what looked like an irrational act was actually driven by pure professional competence.

Now, let’s see if there would be a matching payoff.

...

Pain. Agonizing pain.

Unlike the previous two times, this was a very pure, physical suffering.

During yet another drawn-out period of darkness, a new change suddenly occurred—good news.

Fu Qian immediately gave it a positive review.

It was simple: the fact that he could actually feel his physical body meant the other form of agony was weakening.

Sure enough, just as Fu Qian silently savored the sensation and traced the pain to his navel, the second type of agony also began to slowly fade.

This time, no replacement swooped in to fill the void. It faded in a much more natural manner, dissipating very slowly.

Only after a much longer period did Fu Qian realize he had recovered a sliver of perception.

[SAN Value -3]

And the very first thing to greet him was that sweet, melodious notification.

Excellent. It seemed he had truly reached the Third Heaven this time... As expected, sticking to the Truth had paid off.

His SAN Value had been deducted without hesitation, yet Fu Qian felt quite satisfied in that moment. Struggling to open his eyes, he surveyed his surroundings—why did it still look like a coffin? A flooded one at that?

...

The warm liquid felt like a cross between water and oil, viscous yet perfectly clear.

Compared to his previous experiences, the sight before him was undoubtedly more grotesque.

The first thing Fu Qian noticed was that his body seemed to be floating inside something.

Looking closer, he found himself confined within a space even smaller than the coffin.

Its shape, however, was much rounder—more like an egg than a box with sharp corners.

The shell of the egg was translucent, allowing a faint glow from the outside to filter in and illuminate what looked like a network of blood vessels spread across its surface.

The vast majority of the egg’s interior was filled with the liquid. Aside from his head, his entire body was submerged.

But that wasn’t the strangest part. Floating lazily in the fluid alongside him were dozens of tube-like structures.

At first glance, they looked like seaweed drifting in the ocean. Upon closer inspection, though, he realized they were fleshy biological constructs—just like him and the egg itself. The only difference was that most of them had completely shriveled up.

He was currently gripping one of the less withered tubes in his left hand. Its tip was bright red, as if it had just been torn out of raw flesh—which it almost certainly had.

Glancing down at the source of the pain, he spotted a bizarre, socket-like structure right on his navel.

Faced with this strange scene, Fu Qian, whose sense of touch was gradually returning, gave the object in his hand a squeeze.

No doubt about it. It was an Umbilical Cord.

...

This wasn’t a coffin. On the contrary, it represented the exact opposite concept—a place that truly nurtured new life.

Resting his empty hand against the side, Fu Qian silently updated his assessment.

The inner wall of the egg was incredibly slippery to the touch, carrying the same warmth as the liquid.

Despite the vast difference in shape, this place was undoubtedly akin to a womb, designed to incubate life.

And the thing clutched in his hand was an Umbilical Cord that had been forcefully yanked out.

Compared to the previous heavens, this visual was just a bit too grotesque.

Unfortunately, the container’s transparency was too poor for him to make out the scenery outside.

Still, he hadn’t come up completely empty-handed. Fu Qian had already gotten a good look at the condition of the Umbilical Cords.

There were nearly twenty of them. Most were severely shriveled, looking just like the natural desiccation that occurs after a newborn’s birth. The degree of withering even followed a clear, discernible pattern.

Yet, even the most withered one remained tightly attached to the inner wall.

More importantly, among them was one that looked even plumper and fresher than the cord in his hand.

So what was going on here?

Fu Qian reached out and grabbed it, comparing it to the one in his left hand and the socket on his navel.

It actually looked like a better fit. Could it be...?

Placing the two Umbilical Cords side by side, Fu Qian stared at the slightly different colored liquids oozing from their tips. After a moment of thought, he scooped up a drop from the freshest one and popped it into his mouth for a taste.

Tight, tight, tight... This was the exact taste of the original version of bliss he had encountered.

It just lacked the sheer impact, probably due to the method of absorption.

For a split second, Fu Qian seemed to glimpse a familiar scene. But in the space of a single breath, he snapped out of that intoxicating daze and tasted a drop from the other Umbilical Cord.

This taste was right too... The situation was starting to become a bit clearer.

It seemed the Umbilical Cords weren’t just delivering life-sustaining nutrients. They were pumping pleasure straight into him through this highly direct method, akin to soaking his brain directly in dopamine.

The legendary chemical bliss? It really gave him a sense of déjà vu. Was this the true reality of Paradise after death?

As for why there were so many Umbilical Cords?

Tracing them back to their roots, he noticed that while they all connected to the surrounding network of blood vessels, most of those vessels had also dried up. They weren’t directly linked to one another; instead, they were layered on top of each other, much like a water supply system that was constantly being upgraded and replaced.

And he had apparently just forcefully ripped out the newest system—along with the second newest one.

As a result, the supply had finally failed to keep up, leaving no way to sustain his continuous state of chemical bliss.