Three days after discovering his meta-textual audience, Zǔ Zhòu had transformed his evening torture sessions into carefully orchestrated performances.
"Tonight's show," he announced to his temporal anchor servant, "will test precise observer preferences. Variables: cruelty style, victim selection, philosophical commentary, and temporal pacing."
Seven subjects knelt before him—deliberately chosen for variety. A corrupt merchant, a righteous guard, an innocent child, a hardened killer, a young mother, an elderly scholar, and a Buddhist monk.
"Baseline test. Simple physical torture, no creativity."
He broke the merchant's finger. Clean snap, efficient but uninspired. The observation remained present but unfocused—like a reader skimming a dull paragraph.
"Minimal engagement for basic cruelty. Testing creative physical torture."
He approached the guard, producing needles. Not just inserting them, but creating patterns that spelled obscenities in ancient scripts while maximizing nerve stimulation. The observation sharpened noticeably.
"Creative method increases engagement by approximately 300%. Testing psychological torture."
The young mother wept as he described, in clinical detail, what would happen to her infant daughter. Not threats—certainties, delivered with the casual tone of discussing weather. The watchers' attention intensified further.
"Psychological trauma generates 400% increased engagement. Combining methods."
The elderly scholar received both—needles inscribing mathematical proofs of life's meaninglessness into his flesh while Zǔ Zhòu deconstructed every philosophical comfort the man had built over decades.
The observation practically hummed with attention.
"Optimal engagement: creative physical torture with philosophical implications." He paused, tilting his head. "But you're not just sadists, are you? Let's test narrative preferences."
He released the monk temporarily. "Run. You have thirty seconds."
The monk fled. At twenty-nine seconds, Zǔ Zhòu appeared before him via movement technique. "Hope makes despair sweeter, doesn't it?"
The observation spiked—not at the recapture, but at the narrative structure. Setup, tension, inevitable conclusion.
"You prefer story to simple suffering," he noted, dragging the monk back. "Each torture is a scene, not just sensation. How literary."
He varied his performance timing. Rushed sequences drew less interest. Prolonged buildups with sudden climaxes held attention perfectly. Comic timing—making victims laugh before screaming—generated fascinating fluctuations.
"Testing direct acknowledgment." He looked up at empty air mid-torture. "Are you enjoying the show?"
Reality flickered.
Not dramatically—a subtle warping like heat mirages. The observation intensified and... shifted? As if the watchers had leaned forward in surprise.
"I'll take that as yes." He smiled, the expression making his victim faint. "Your response confirms meta-textual interaction. When acknowledged, reality itself responds."
He tested further acknowledgments. Comments about "the audience" created minor flickers. Direct questions generated stronger responses. Meta-commentary about being in a story caused the most significant reality distortions.
"Testing narrative tropes." He positioned victims in classic formations. "The innocent child begs for mercy. The hardened killer spits defiance. The scholar seeks understanding. Which archetypal suffering entertains most?"
The child's genuine terror drew moderate interest. The killer's forced breakdown generated more. But the scholar's existential collapse as Zǔ Zhòu dismantled meaning itself held the watchers' complete attention.
"Intellectual horror over physical. Existential over visceral. You have refined tastes."
He performed variations—same torture, different framing. Described as justice: mild interest. As necessity: moderate engagement. As pure entertainment: maximum response.
"Honesty about evil's purposelessness resonates most. No justifications, no greater good. Simply acknowledging that suffering exists for amusement—yours and mine."
Testing victim awareness: "You're being tortured for beings beyond reality who find your agony entertaining." The revelation broke minds faster than any physical torment. The watchers' attention peaked during these breakdowns.
"Meta-awareness as torture tool. Delicious recursion."
He addressed the audience throughout: "Notice how her scream modulates at 3.7 kilohertz? Optimal frequency for listener discomfort." "This nerve cluster creates synesthetic suffering—he tastes his own pain." "Watch her eyes at the moment hope dies. That exact millisecond."
Each comment strengthened the observation, reality flickering more frequently.
"Testing power scaling." He demonstrated techniques at different comprehension levels. Basic Body Tempering torture: mild interest. His translated impossible techniques: strong engagement. Descriptions of what he could do at full power: maximum attention despite no visible effect.
"You're more interested in potential than present. The promise of future atrocities excites more than current capabilities."
Final test: "I know you're reading this. Not watching—reading. This reality is text to you, and I'm a particularly interesting chapter."
Reality didn't just flicker—it stuttered, like a record skipping. The observation became almost tangible, a pressure of focused attention that transcended dimensional barriers.
"There we are. Full acknowledgment creates maximum response. You enjoy when the fiction knows it's fiction."
He concluded the session with theatrical flair—seven victims in various states of physical and existential ruin, arranged to spell "THANKS FOR WATCHING" in ancient demonic script.
"Performance analysis," he told his servant afterward. "The watchers are sophisticated consumers of narrative evil. They prefer creative, philosophical torture with meta-textual awareness. Direct acknowledgment enhances engagement. Reality itself responds to their attention."
"What will you do with this knowledge?"
"Every session becomes a show. Every breakthrough a season finale. Every evil deed a gift to those who appreciate quality entertainment." He smiled. "If I must crawl back to godhood, at least I'll have an appreciative audience."
The observation had faded but left echoes—a permanent awareness that he performed for cosmic voyeurs who read reality like literature.
"Tomorrow we test comedy," he decided. "Dark humor during atrocity. Let's see if they appreciate a villain who knows he's entertaining."
Reality shivered in anticipation.