A sudden cold wind swirled, drilling into the dilapidated church. A figure in a black robe, who was lying on the ground carving ritual lines with a knife stained with silver powder, suddenly shivered.
“Hiss—” The black-robed man named Welu retracted his neck, tightly wrapping his loose robe around himself as he muttered, “I say, Truss, do you feel that… like the wind is picking up?”
A few steps ahead of him, another black-robed figure, Truss, maintained a prostrate prayer position without even turning his head. His voice came through his hood: “Shut your mouth!, Welu. Put away those irrelevant feelings.”
He turned his head slightly. Under the shadow of the hood, only the tight line of his jaw was visible.
“The effectiveness of the Void Domain is fading; we are out of time. If you don’t want to be caught by those bastards from Sky Wings who have noses sharper than hounds, and if you don’t want to taste every torture device in a dark cell before being secretly executed like a stray dog, I advise you to focus all your energy on completing the ritual array in front of you.”
Welu didn’t dare speak again, obediently lowering his head and refocusing his attention on the carving knife in his hand.
Truss was right. Although they had used the Void Domain to temporarily isolate this space, the maintenance of the entire Void Domain rested on Truss alone—he was the only transcendent among the three.
Tonight’s ceremony was meant to allow ordinary people like them to touch the forbidden and obtain the long-dreamed-of transcendent power.
At this thought, Welu’s heart burned with heat. He couldn’t help but peek toward the motionless figure on the stone platform.
That was a man they had picked up in the back alley of a filthy bar. When they found him, the guy only had half a breath left, smelling strongly of alcohol with foam at the corners of his mouth.
To ensure everything went perfectly, they had injected a sufficient dose of anesthetic into his veins before moving him here.
After all, this Ash Angel they served was never picky when enjoying sacrifices.
“This fresh flesh—”
“And this pure soul, offered to You together!”
Truss’s voice suddenly rose, filled with a nearly mad piety. He gazed affectionately at the void ahead, and Welu clearly felt something indescribable slowly condensing in the air.
The curtain of reality seemed about to break at a touch.
As Truss’s last syllable fell, blood began to seep from the walls. The array on the ground seemed to be given life as dark red liquid surged from the lines, spreading wildly.
In just a few breaths, countless wriggling blood threads crawled over the four walls like living creatures.
Welu instinctively looked back at the broken statue of the goddess in the corner. Now, crimson blood threads covered the entire stone statue, crisscrossing especially over that merciful face, as if the deity were weeping blood.
Truss slowly stood up. Under the hood’s shadow, only his chin, slightly pale from extreme focus and exhaustion, could be seen. Maintaining the “Void Domain” and leading the opening of the ritual had clearly cost him greatly.
He didn’t turn around; his voice carried the hoarseness of the ritual’s aftermath and a hint of command:
“Matt.”
The third black-robed man, who had been standing silently in the corner shadows, moved at the sound. He was sturdier than Welu and silent as a stone.
“Go,” Truss’s voice returned to its usual coldness, “invite our guest to the center of His dining table.”
The black-robed man named Matt nodded slightly and walked toward the stone platform with steady steps. He leaned down, reached out his rough hands, and began untying the hemp ropes that were tightly bound around Jiang Ming’s wrists.
Just as he finished untying all the ropes and was about to carry the man on his back.
The sacrifice, who should have been unconscious, suddenly snapped his eyes open at that moment!
That gaze was clear and sharp, like a sudden bolt of lightning in the dark night, without a trace of confusion or weakness.
There was no time to think; Matt’s combat instinct let out a shrill alarm! He saw the man’s hand striking toward him, tightly gripping an ordinary-looking fountain pen. The tip of the pen flashed with a cold light in the dimness, stabbing straight for his throat!
Too fast!
At the critical moment, Matt only had time to raise his left palm to block his throat!
“Pfft!”
A soft thud.
Sharp pain instantly exploded from his palm. That seemingly ordinary fountain pen, carrying astonishing force, actually pierced through his hand. The tip sank two or three centimeters deep, and blood immediately gushed out along the barrel.
Matt groaned, veins popping on his forehead. Reacting quickly, he raised his hands, trying to choke Jiang Ming’s neck.
“What a pity, but it doesn’t matter.”
A cold arc curled at the corner of Jiang Ming’s mouth.
Matt’s arms, which were about to reach out, froze in mid-air. His whole body seemed bound by invisible chains as he began to twitch violently. Centered on the gruesome blood hole in his palm, the surrounding air rushed frantically into his veins.
He opened his mouth wide but couldn’t make a sound. His eyeballs became rapidly bloodshot from internal pressure, and it seemed as if countless rats were scurrying under his skin. His originally sturdy body now shook unnaturally in the wild air currents like a broken doll.
Those invisible bubbles would follow the blood flow all the way, eventually blocking the critical entrance to the pulmonary artery, forming a fatal air embolism.
If the person before him were a true transcendent, perhaps they could use magic to form a barrier on the skin’s surface. But Matt, no matter how sturdy his muscles were, was ultimately just an ordinary person who had never touched the realm of transcendence.
Before true transcendent power, ordinary people were vulnerable. In less than ten seconds, an adult man collapsed on the ground, his body twitching uncontrollably.
“This is the gap between a transcendent and an ordinary person.”
Jiang Ming sighed, glanced at the fountain pen in his hand, and flicked the blood off. This pen had always been in his pants pocket, and he had used air current control to move the pen into his hand while they were praying.
The desire for survival and the rapid rise of adrenaline suppressed the guilt of killing. Jiang Ming didn’t feel much pressure at this moment; he watched the two men in front of him cautiously.
Hearing the abnormal noise behind them, Truss and Welu also turned their heads sharply.
The scene before them caused their pupils to shrink—the lamb who should have been unconscious under the effect of anesthetics was now standing not far away, expressionless. The blood-red light of the setting sun passed through the broken stained glass, plating a bizarre halo around him. Only the fountain pen in his hand dripping liquid and the constantly twitching Matt at his feet could be seen.
This image was like a saint returning from hell, executing a blasphemer.
“Damn it! Welu!” Truss grabbed his companion’s collar, “Did you fucking embezzle those anesthetics? That was a dose enough to bring down an adult giant elephant! How could he wake up!”
“I swear! I swear by my next life!” Welu broke into a cold sweat, his voice trembling, “I definitely pushed the whole thing in! Not a drop left!”
Truss let go of Welu’s collar, his gaze gloomily sweeping over Matt lying on the ground.
Matt’s injury definitely wasn’t a heavy one, but that single strike had stripped Matt of his ability to move.
It showed the opponent was no ordinary person and was very likely a transcendent as well.
Truss didn’t fear any enemy of the same rank, but having just finished the prayer ritual and needing to maintain the Void Domain, it was clear that if he were to fight the man before him, he wouldn’t have enough magic.
Jiang Ming just watched them without making a move, instead constantly sensing everything in the church through the wind.
During VR simulations, he had faced countless enemies. In this world full of crap mobs, Jiang Ming had learned one thing: never underestimate the opponent.
He could never forget the time his maxed-out account was beaten down in an underground passage by three skeleton soldiers.
Battles between transcendents were even more so. You need to constantly test the characteristics of the opponent’s Soul Source, find the flaws, and then deliver a fatal blow.
Truss’s gaze moved quickly between Jiang Ming and the twitching Matt before he finally took a deep breath, breaking the heavy silence:
“Friend, I think there might be some misunderstanding between us.” He deliberately slowed his speech, while the sleeve of his left arm tore open—a thick, brownish-black bear claw replaced his original arm. “Why not stop here? You take your path, and I’ll take mine. As for Matt…”
He glanced at the curled figure on the ground, his tone indifferent: “Consider him your compensation.”
Truss knew very well that he hadn’t figured out how the opponent had subdued Matt in an instant. Maintaining the Void Domain while facing an enemy left him with slim chances of winning. More problematically, if things dragged on until those Sky Wings lapdogs arrived after hearing the news, the consequences would be disastrous.
Rather than that, it was better to let it go.
As for Welu, an ordinary person without an Alchemical Armament could hardly threaten a transcendent.
Jiang Ming didn’t speak, instead quietly looking at that mutated arm.
He thought he already knew which school’s Soul Source the opponent belonged to.
“Ochre-Self School…” Jiang Ming whispered to himself.