Eldritch Horror Theatre

’Not bad.’

Amid the long-absent, pleasant system notification, Fu Qian’s hand didn’t tremble in the slightest as he worked the Small Golden Melon Hammer loose, pulling it free from the shattered skull.

It was a pity he didn’t have enough strength left to wipe it clean.

Every drop of blood on the Golden Melon—that vital essence living creatures relied on to survive—reflected a boundless vortex of desire in Fu Qian’s eyes.

As that final strike fell, the pleasure in his mind completely erupted.

Having the drafted muscle killed in a counterattack had clearly enraged Excellency Stomach to the extreme.

Driven by an even more furious, turbocharged boost, the escalating layers of pleasure had reached an essence that was hard to describe—but hard to describe didn’t mean impossible.

It was like dumpling filling minced so finely that the original ingredients were completely unrecognizable. As long as one had enough patience and energy, it could still be deciphered layer by layer.

Form is emptiness, emptiness is form... Whether it was the Ancient One who had explored the Realm of Bliss for years, or that unconventional higher entity who relied on sheer brute force, Excellency Stomach, neither of them had managed to grasp the true essence of that phrase.

What Fu Qian had just done was very simple: with his mind filled with Ecstasy, he had forcibly visualized true ”blank pleasure.”The true pinnacle of layered negation was to abandon any symbols used to define or describe it, allowing the concept of pleasure to directly reflect upon the self.

It sounded abstract, and pulling it off wasn’t easy either. Even coming up with the idea required a slightly twisted mind—unless one had been inspired beforehand.

During his mission with the Akons, Hilaria’s treatment philosophy had been described in detail within the quest briefing—

[...Attempting to stuff the aggregate of impulses and desires into a symbolized self-portrait is the source of all tragedy... Abandoning any words to describe the scents entering one’s nose... brings a pleasure like thoroughly washing away filth...

...The pleasure continues to expand, even surpassing the boundaries of what words can describe... No longer burying one’s head in a self-forged cage, no longer letting self-awareness bind the self...]

”Knowledge is power” had never been just an empty saying.

Fu Qian never ignored the precious information he accumulated during his missions, including overly abstract concepts.

At the same time, mere accumulation wasn’t enough. Imagination was a crucial weapon for turning that knowledge into power.

Desire, pleasure, bliss... When encountering these seemingly similar concepts, Fu Qian was always in the habit of comparing and verifying them against one another.

The treatment philosophy he encountered with the Akons, in particular, most likely stemmed from the enlightenment of some ”pure and lofty power.”

Although its essence was meant to expel the delusions of the ”self” to further refine the Akons, the pinnacle of metaphysics was universally connected, after all.

Long before he witnessed the endlessly escalating multiplication of pleasure, Fu Qian had wondered if this ”true purity” was the ultimate answer.

Not blank, but empty.

Moreover, this wasn’t the only reason. The story he had mentioned to the Ancient One earlier stemmed from a classic paradox—

A rabbit naturally ran faster than a tortoise, but if the tortoise was given a head start in a race, by the time the rabbit covered that initial distance, the tortoise would have moved forward a bit more. The rabbit would give chase again, and the tortoise would move again... Escalating like this, the rabbit would never catch up.

This was the story Fu Qian had thought of the very first time he faced the endless layers of pleasure.

And earlier, the Ancient One had helped prove a point: even after climbing to the Ninth Heaven, he still hadn’t touched the apex of the Realm of Bliss.

Was it possible that ”running like this” would never reach the finish line?

When it came to the spiritual level, strict mathematics might not apply perfectly, but it could still offer some inspiration.

For example, what if the chasing rabbit took a single step directly to the finish line?

And that was exactly what he had just done.

Lastly, he didn’t have much fondness for climbing the heavenly ladder in sequential order. There was actually another reason for this—the last mission where his SAN Value drained faster the deeper he assimilated was called the Furnace.

...

He might have been passive throughout this mission, but knowing the worst-case scenario that the ”Ancient One might project onto Brother Repentance again,” how could he not have a contingency plan when he rushed over to test the waters?

Running into the Church to get right in Excellency Stomach’s face actually had a third purpose.

Earlier, advancing to the Third Heaven had been achieved by forcibly imagining thirty-three layers of false pleasure, which ultimately resulted in a successful resonance with the Realm of Bliss.

It was precisely through this that he proved Stomach’s own authority shared similarities with the Realm of Bliss.

And at that time, he hadn’t even been implanted with the Seed of Ecstasy.

So, if he truly possessed power originating from Excellency Stomach, wouldn’t the resonance effect be even better?

Even though that Excellency hadn’t succeeded on His own, He hadn’t necessarily received the same kind of master-level influence as Fu Qian had.

Therefore, from the moment he entered the incense hall and discovered that Brother Repentance was still alive, Fu Qian had focused more of his energy on simulating that ultimate pleasure.

The specific manifestation of this was eyes on nose, nose on heart, and his heart on the Small Golden Melon Hammer.

The process wasn’t easy. To increase his success rate, he had even deliberately accelerated the decay of his ”self.”

But all that trash talk hadn’t been for nothing. The other party was stalling for time, but wasn’t he doing exactly the same?

The final result was that just a moment ago, the resonance had genuinely appeared once again, granting him a perspective that transcended everything and allowing him to confirm that the person in front of him was indeed his mission target.

...

The Ancient One was still far too optimistic.

The Ninth Heaven truly wasn’t the apex of the Realm of Bliss, but the layers beyond it likely exceeded his imagination.

Ten, eleven, twelve... Layer after layer, so abstract and distorted that they were incomprehensible, and utterly endless.

This endlessness didn’t represent infinite magnitude, but rather the infinitely infinitesimal. Just like the infinitely subdivided distance in the tortoise and the hare race, it led to an inability to ever reach the finish line.

And the sensation of standing directly at the finish line was truly remarkable. Even the Ancient One, who had climbed the highest, was nothing more than a pitiful wretch who mistakenly believed he was in the lead.

As for whether reaching the apex of the Realm of Bliss meant one could master it? Fu Qian wasn’t entirely sure.

It was just a hint of resonance; he was still very far from taking that step.

Of course, it was more than enough for his current situation.

Striking from a higher vantage point—a dimensional strike. That hammer blow just now was exactly the method the Ancient One had dreamed of for utterly destroying his target.

At the same moment his brains burst forth, that Death completely erased him from every single Heaven.

Fu Qian was even confident at that moment that, even if Excellency Stomach hadn’t sent someone, it wouldn’t have affected his ability to lock onto the target.

That was a true dimensional strike.

Fighting speed with speed, he had finally executed this concept and cleaned up this containment breach bearing such an alarming serial number.

There were only two regrettable things. Firstly, the Ancient One had been unwilling to introduce himself even until the very end; hailing from a thousand years ago, there was reason to believe his identity was quite special.

Secondly, there wasn’t much time left to experience ”bliss.”

Taking one last scrutinizing look through that precious perspective, Fu Qian simultaneously swung his weapon in the opposite direction. Amid endless struggling, he smashed his own head to pieces with a single swing of the hammer.

It was like a tooth that had been swollen for a month finally being drilled open by a dentist. The moment his vision faded to black, Fu Qian believed that the contents of his head must have erupted onto the ceiling like magma from a Volcano.

[Task Evaluation: Heaven’s Heavy Hammer]