"Don't rush."
As if he had long expected the watchman's reaction, Fu Qian casually handed over the key, even offering a few words of reassurance.
See? His earlier experience had been confirmed once again: treating people kindly paid off.
Regardless of whether the watchman's outlook on life was flawed, one thing seemed clear: he needed this job to anchor his sense of self.
This even seemed to have earned a degree of recognition from Storm Moore, giving the key in his hand a certain symbolic power.
Which, in turn, could even cause him a little trouble.
But that wasn't the point. As long as someone wasn't completely checked out, "Do what they want, examine what they fear"—the evil god's secret wisdom—could be put to use.
For the watchman, this job was clearly a serious matter. If someone pointed out a mistake, he might react rather strongly.
As it turned out, that was exactly what happened. He went berserk almost instantly.
As for how Fu Qian knew there had been a mistake?
He was, of course, talking nonsense.
Facts had to be respected. He wasn't familiar with this place, and so far, he had only found his way here by grasping at a vague, symbolic concept.
Even if this place really had coalesced around the concept of a Miracle Creature's eye, and the Domain of the Dead really had caught fire recently, that wasn't enough to conclude that this was where the fire had started, much less to determine that the arsonist was still upstairs—but that was what he hoped had happened.
And presumably, anything less than a fire of that scale wouldn't be enough to get a rise out of the watchman.
So that was the only warning he could give.
If it didn't work, then at worst he'd have