Outside the shop, two men in black jackets and cloaks watched the store with different expressions.
"This is blasphemy!" Man A said viciously.
"No, blasphemy is something meant for those useless gods. As for the great Cthulhu, as long as someone draws close to it—even through something merely similar—It will be pleased," the second man said with a smile.
Man A was somewhat confused.
The second man offered no explanation. Those who understood, understood. Cthulhu did not need faith, nor did It live on the power of faith. It fed on corruption. Whoever heard Its name, whoever saw Its statue, would be corrupted.
Once corrupted, they would be unable to break free.
They would be like insomniacs desperately trying to sleep—the harder they tried to fall asleep, the more impossible it became.
So if someone wanted to use something similar to seize Cthulhu's faith, that was exactly what they wanted. It would greatly reduce the workload of servants like them.
After thinking it over, Man A suddenly understood and began to laugh. "That's right, exactly. These fools think the great Cthulhu is one of those useless deities. They'll soon find out just how terribly wrong they are."
The two burst into laughter.
One customer after another took bags upon bags of food from Turtle and Little Panda.
Food would always have a market, no matter when it was, as long as the price was low enough.
This was no longer cheap. It was practically being given away for free.
Although the people living here were not short on food, if they could exchange waste paper for it and the only cost was buying an Octopus Head Statue, what did that matter? "We should imitate such a good method," Man A said.
"Imitate what? We don't have the time to gather