Eldritch Horror Theatre

”Ah... this familiar scent.”

Raising both hands in a gesture that was half a lazy stretch and half an embrace of the sun, Fu Qian strolled leisurely through the restored Sword Pavilion Fourth Floor.

It was no illusion. Every high-level collectible of the Sword Comprehension Institute was completely intact, including the one that had vaporized half his arm.

Fu Qian stopped in front of the familiar Shortsword, studying it closely.

To be honest, its exterior was exceedingly ordinary compared to the rest—and so was its interior.

Standing here now, it looked like an ordinary piece of mortal iron. It showed absolutely no trace of its earlier God-Slaying Power.

It was as if everything had been a mere hallucination—assuming, of course, they gave his hand back.

With nothing more to see, Fu Qian withdrew his gaze and examined his still-bare elbow.

He had conveniently tossed the Incense Axe into the Warehouse earlier, so his remaining hand was currently empty as well.

He thought back to when the Sword Comprehension Institute had treated him as a VIP right here. The Apocalypse’s interim spokesperson had ascended the pavilion to view the swords, wielding blades with both hands and mouth in the Three-Sword Style. That insufferably arrogant scene was still fresh in his mind.In the blink of an eye, he was left with missing limbs, yet the scenery remained completely untouched. How could he not sigh in lament?

Illusions and empty flowers—why bother trying to grasp them?

His feeling from earlier, when he had tearfully parted ways with Old Man Weilong, seemed to have been right on the mark after all.

Banishment.

A method he had once faced with Akons had surprisingly appeared before him yet again.

And it seemed that, once more, he was a bug trapped behind a pane of glass.

Unlike last time, however, the other party didn’t seem to be here just to repel the bug. They were here to kill it.

...

After probing his way here and causing a massive ruckus on the Sword Pavilion Fourth Floor, the ensuing scene provided a clear answer to his earlier suspicions.

A power beyond common sense that shouldn’t exist in the Academy, and the way everything was restored to its original state upon his return.

These two manifestations were far too typical, nearly identical to his encounter with Akons.

The Linghui Courtyard had indeed fallen victim. Or rather, the entire Academy might be under the influence, and they were simply exhibiting the most obvious symptoms.

Accidents truly never ceased. This place was such a treasured land; he had no idea how the Academy’s founders had picked this location back in the day.

Furthermore, Fu Qian was curious about one thing: what exactly was the purpose of the person behind all this, the one suspected to be Master Yuhun?

To seize the Academy and instantly refine it? Just like with Akons?

Wasn’t that a bit too radical? There was a dimensional gap between the two, after all.

No matter how one looked at it, Akons had obviously been an abnormal spiritual world, whereas this place was the true Transcendent Academy where elites gathered.

Even knowing that idealism preached that nothing exists outside the mind, wasn’t this appetite a bit too large?

Using the Academy as a breakthrough point to take the First Step in converting the entire world to idealism?

Would everyone become nothing more than his Secret Puppets and delusions?

Putting aside whether it could even be done, wouldn’t such an apocalyptic scene draw in the Night Watchers? Wait a minute.

Not long ago, during their discussion regarding The Ark, hadn’t there been similar speculation about an apocalypse and Qidian?

Walking to the window, Fu Qian looked through the gap toward the Benevolent Curse Institute and successfully reconstructed the magnificent Meteor shower from earlier in his mind.

Could it be that the Meteor shower back then gave Master Yuhun enlightenment, making him believe that some sort of opportunity had arrived?

If that were really the case, that impact truly smashed out a horde of demons and monsters. He could certainly be considered to have racked up some deep karmic sins.

And Master Yuhun probably understood the Academy far more deeply than he’d imagined.

Of course, those were matters for later. Right now, there was a problem right in front of him: how was he supposed to survive this wave of idealism?

...

The situation was far from optimistic.

As mentioned earlier, this time was the difference between repelling a bug and killing it.

Previously in Akons, when dealing with him—a troublemaker—Master Yuhun’s guiding principle had seemingly been to treat him as a stubborn stone impossible to redeem.

Banishment and isolation, using something akin to a temporary dream file to prevent him from affecting the real Akons.

At first glance, the current situation appeared exactly the same.

The Sword Pavilion he was currently standing in, and the Sword Pavilion Fourth Floor he had destroyed earlier, clearly both belonged to the category of temporarily generated files.

His action of returning to the Warehouse and coming back was just like his second visit to Akons.

The real Academy was already completely out of his reach.

Theoretically, the methods he could currently employ seemed much freer than during that previous mission.

Take the most basic logic, for example: whether it was centered around the Benevolent Curse Institute or the Linghui Courtyard, the area of effect for this wave of idealism had to be limited.

As long as he kept walking outward, the banishment would eventually lose its effect.

Not to mention, he wasn’t even restricted from returning to the Warehouse. He could transfer directly from there to Shangjing, the Half-Step Moon, or somewhere similar.

The only price would be exposing the people here at the Academy to the risk of being refined—as if it were that easy.

There was a reason for that unbreakable connection when he returned to the Warehouse earlier.

Standing here now, the feeling had become a bit clearer—it was something that could almost be defined as the fetters of fate.

More accurately, Master Yuhun was entering the game as a piece, plastering a special concept directly onto Fu Qian’s forehead to tightly lock down their connection.

His inner demon... That was what Fu Qian sensed.

The other party was no longer avoiding the problem. He was Master Yuhun’s true target this time.

So they weren’t just blocking him behind the glass; they were trying to stuff him into a glass bottle and burn him to ashes.

Even running away was impossible. The fetters forged by the other party entering the game as a piece defied all imagination.

The two of them were clearly in a special conjugate state now, using the Academy as an arena, each acting as the other’s inner demon.

It was like a split personality: one believed the current situation was reality, while the other believed it was merely a delusion.

If he took a step back, the other party took a step forward. It was a true zero-sum game.

For example, theoretically no time had passed just now, but his action of returning to the Warehouse had already caused a shift in the balance of power.

The surroundings and everything else had accelerated their fall toward the side of idealism by a fraction, and the inner demon label on his forehead had only grown brighter.

This connection was so transcendent that Fu Qian deeply suspected it couldn’t be severed just by running away.

Leaving by any means would only result in failure, and the label of Master Yuhun’s inner demon would never be torn off.

This was a true deathmatch where he couldn’t retreat a single step.

Of course, he could always transform into the King of the Abandoned Prison and let the other party feel the wrath of an ancient higher entity.

But he couldn’t forget that the other party was also very skilled in similar methods.

With a long sigh lamenting the many hardships of the Academy, Fu Qian applied force to his hand, easily snapping off a chunk of the weathered windowsill in front of him.

”As expected, this scent is more familiar...”

Completely devoid of any guilt over destroying public property, Fu Qian brought the broken piece to his nose, sniffed it, and sighed again.

It smelled of mushrooms.

Even on the broken cross-section, one could clearly see layers of interwoven, stacked mycelium.