Eldritch Horror Theatre

Those are all excellent offers, but I refuse.

That was easier said than done, even with the cautionary examples of his colleagues.

He hadn’t interacted much with Old Man Li, but picturing certain likely scenarios left Fu Qian with a deep sense of admiration.

Going a step further in the transcendent world was a temptation far beyond ordinary fame and fortune.

Even platitudes like ”worldly possessions” or ”you can’t take it with you” held no weight here. This was Sublimation in the truest sense—a leap as drastic as an earthworm transforming into a human.

Not to mention, the Old Man had seemingly touched a sliver of the Heavenly Dao’s true essence. It wasn’t entirely impossible for him to use it to completely break free of his mortal shackles.

While it was hard to say whether the Night Watchers had lent a hand, merely having the resolve to make such a choice was a monumental feat in itself.

On another note, could Excellency Ji Ning’s dissatisfaction with the Old Man have stemmed from this very issue?

Suddenly stepping down from a high position was one thing, but a High-Tier Transcendent with a boundless future choosing to idle his years away definitely raised serious questions about his ambition.

Knowing the Old Man’s style, if he had agreed to keep it strictly confidential, he likely wouldn’t breathe a word of the truth to anyone else. It was easy to see how misunderstandings would take root from there and entangle them both.For instance, Excellency Ji Ning might not have been pushing him to achieve greatness. Instead, she might have worried he was merely forcing a smile, and constantly tried to console him.

Sadly, without knowing the truth, she would never believe her consolations had actually worked.

In short, it perfectly explained their fraught dynamic.

Of course, that was all someone else’s private business. This string of analysis had happened entirely on autopilot—the unfortunate side effect of reading too many books.

Fu Qian had no intention of interfering, let alone paying them a visit.

If the chance ever arose to run into the Old Man reminiscing about the bitter past at the Academy, sitting down for a chat wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Yes, Fu Qian was fairly certain the Academy would still be standing, and there would definitely be a place to sit.

As for the reason... He twirled the pen in his hand.

Whether this was the apocalypse or not was entirely up to the scriptwriter.

The true Path to Godhood? Anchoring the apocalypse to attain the Golden Body? Sweeping away all hidden dangers in one fell swoop to finally sit at the main table?

Although that Three-Stage Questioning carried an imposing momentum, it severely underestimated the integrity of the Academy’s past sages.

And unfortunately, I refuse as well.

...

This was the beauty of the vast interpretive freedom found in literary works.

Titling the third act that way wasn’t actually the most organic choice.

The true core of that act had clearly unfolded in the Back Room.

The Thinker, who had pursued answers to no avail, had ultimately merged with the thoughts of the past sages to form a Computation Matrix, uncovering the genuine truth.

Considering the context of the entire script, that answer undoubtedly pointed to the truth of the apocalypse.

The Thinker, deemed a heretic, had been right all along. Borrowing the title from the second act, they were the ”light” that the ”Shadows” lurking behind the door had no right to judge.

Thus, in theory, titling that act ”The Light Chaser” would have been the most fitting choice.

It would have definitively set the tone for the entire script’s theme and represented the ultimate answer to whether the apocalypse was real or fake.

What a pity. Brother Thinker had ultimately defined himself as a gazer of the shadows instead.

Even that final scene, which could practically be described as shattering the void, was framed as ”becoming a part of the shadows.”

It caused the entire narrative to undergo a great shift of heaven and earth, instantly devolving into a cliché conspiracy theory.

The light they had so desperately sought was the real illusion, while the fools hiding behind the doors were actually in the right... so the sun would still rise as usual tomorrow.

Now then, let’s see if this second-rate script could pass review—it seemed it could.

As it turned out, a script devoid of romantic drama actually cleared the review process remarkably fast.

Not only did the title of the third act remain, but in that very instant, every single word sprang to life.

The experiences from all five acts of the Etched Intellect overlapped and flashed before his eyes in a peculiar fashion, much like a mythical revolving lantern.

Of course, he wasn’t about to die. On the contrary, this cinematic display made the scene of the crystallized apocalypse seem rather mundane.

Crash!

Going even further, at a certain moment, everything violently shattered. The Doomsday Ditty came to an abrupt halt alongside it, leaving nothing but the lingering sound of crashing waves in his ears.

...

Was this really the solution?

He naturally recognized the sound of the Ash Sea, easily confirming that his hypothesis regarding the script had been entirely correct.

By filling in the blanks within the bounds of the rules and turning it into a cohesive, self-consistent narrative, he could finally put an end to this seamless Etched Intellect.

Even the timing checked out perfectly. Fu Qian toyed with the Mechanical Fist in his hand, confirming he had indeed returned to the very moment he first pushed the door open.

The only pity was that there was no longer any door to speak of in front of him.

Not only had the building he once saw completely vanished, but even the Inverted Lake that had supported it was gone without a trace.

Above him stretched the pre-dawn night sky, and beneath his feet lay ordinary ash, emitting a deeply unpleasant odor.

The whales, the crystals, the script... as the story concluded, it seemed His Excellency the Fool had swept away every single element associated with the apocalypse.

Perhaps because he had been an audience member who failed to grasp the deeper meaning, he wasn’t even left with a complimentary souvenir; his previous Diamond Skin, for instance, was completely gone.

Fu Qian glanced down at his body, shaking his head as he canceled his Mythical Form to maintain a lower profile.

The crux of the matter was that this wasn’t the only change; His Excellency the Fool had seemingly collected an admission fee on his way out.

Fu Qian was absolutely certain that one of his Insight slots was now empty. Etched Intellect had completely vanished.

In theory, this was a good thing, meaning he would no longer be harassed by the Fallacy Spacetime. However, since Fu Qian had never felt particularly bothered by it to begin with, he resolutely chalked this up as a loss.

Had his inspiration been entirely drained from co-authoring a script with His Excellency the Fool?

It made sense, and besides, it had originally belonged to someone else anyway—wait a minute, who said His Excellency the Fool hadn’t left a souvenir?

Fu Qian didn’t dwell on it too much in that moment, instead simply taking inventory of what he still had on hand.

The Fool’s Statue, the Umbilical Cord... Ultimately, his gaze landed on the face of the clown.

On its already exaggerated face, a festering wound had appeared at the corners of both eyes, making it look as though it were weeping tears of blood while smiling.

So you were the one who snagged an autograph? Logically speaking, shouldn’t you have had the weakest connection to this place out of everything?

That being said, he deliberately hadn’t stowed these items away at the last moment, precisely because he wanted to see what he might fish up.

Thus, despite the slight surprise, Fu Qian slipped the mask on without hesitation.

And what appeared before his eyes was, astonishingly, a ”path he had never envisioned.”

Yes, it was genuinely a path. Hovering ethereally above the surging ash, it was a ”path” that was simultaneously straight and wildly abstract. Even without utilizing Transcendent Perception, he instinctively knew it pointed beyond the deep sea. Visually, it bore a striking resemblance to the Thread of Attachment.

...

Was this what they called dramatic irony?

It had been completely dead when he was inside, yet now it was providing full holographic guidance?

After he had willingly given up a potential ascension ritual, had the mask of one without the fate for godhood suddenly become Fated instead? Would simply following this trail lead him down the Path to Godhood?

Wasn’t this all a bit too abstract? If Excellency Serpent of Destiny were to see this, they would undoubtedly curse him out as a blasphemous freak all over again.

Regardless, this scientific expedition had yielded quite a rich harvest, and he had burned through a considerable amount of supplies in the process. It was definitely time to consider wrapping things up.

After taking a moment to experience it, Fu Qian temporarily removed the mask and tidied himself up, marveling once again at the utmost importance of making thorough preparations before any scientific expedition.

Even if one particular little item seemingly hadn’t found a use.

Digging out a small, Harmonica-like object, Fu Qian toyed with it in his hands.

That’s right; it was none other than the Replica Fish Lure he had asked Kas to track down for him.

It seemed safe to say that when it came to the type of instruments mermaids favored, everyone’s opinions were remarkably aligned.

Compared to the original, however, this replica was distinctly more compact and notably free of any biological materials.

His original intention in bringing this along was to use the merfolk as a makeshift radar if necessary, but that was clearly no longer required—though who was to say his preparations had been in vain?

Raising the Harmonica to his lips to test it out, Fu Qian thought back to the various little tunes Eldest Miss Wen used to hum whenever she dragged him along as her sparring partner. Picking out a relatively cheerful melody, he began to play it with exaggerated solemnity.

In this fleeting moment after the doomsday tune had fully ”dissipated.”

A Kaleidoscope Melody, played as a parting gift for the Fool.