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墨書 Inktalez
The faint glimmer of demonic essence spread within me like a drop of toxic ink falling onto a calm water surface. It did not immediately transform me into a monster, but it seemed to open a strange door beyond my five senses.
The world became... exceptionally clear.
Night was no longer pure darkness; I could "see" the dust floating in the air, "hear" the faint sounds of insects crawling within the walls, and even "smell" the faint traces of blood lingering in the gutter dozens of steps away. This heightened sensitivity came suddenly and intensely, yet it did not bring comfort; instead, it felt like countless needles constantly pricking at my nerves.
Worse still were the whispers.
They no longer seduced me clearly but had turned into a chaotic, intermittent noise, as if countless mouths were hissing in my ears. Sometimes it was the roar of strange beasts, sometimes it was the sound of painful moans, and sometimes... it was Master Xuan Mo's gentle yet cold voice, speaking of "the ignorance of mankind" and "the shortcut to immortality."
I began to suffer from insomnia, my body aching as if something were stirring within my bones. I dared not tell Mole and could only endure silently, pouring all my energy into analyzing clues and... recording them. My sketchbook was filled with twisted lines, terrified eyes, and Xuan Mo's seemingly compassionate face, along with the unremovable dark red beneath his nails.
Mole's injuries were healing slowly under the meager support of inferior herbs from the ghost market, but his silent resilience never wavered. He dragged his injured body through channels I did not know—perhaps through connections he had woven in the lower tiers of Chang'an or some unique instinct for danger possessed by Kunlun slaves—bringing back alarming news.
"Zhongyuan Festival. Midnight. Southeast outside the city, at an abandoned altar from a previous dynasty at the foot of Lishan Mountain, known locally as 'Yansheng Slope.'" His words were concise, his dark face devoid of any extraneous expression, yet his gaze was unusually grave.
Yansheng Slope? My heart jolted. I knew that place; it was remote and desolate. It was said that sorcerers from a previous dynasty performed witchcraft there, gaining a notorious reputation. Zhongyuan Festival—the day when the gates to the underworld open... The choice of this time and place by the Moke Figurine Sect was anything but coincidental!
A large-scale sacrifice! Missing persons! Master Xuan Mo's fervent gaze!
All clues pointed to this time and place.
We had no time to hesitate. The Zhongyuan Festival was tonight!
As night fell, Chang'an City was enveloped in a bizarre festive atmosphere. Every household lit river lanterns at their doors; ashes from paper money danced in the air while scents of incense and offerings wafted around. But this superficial clamor could not mask the heavy, almost suffocating oppression that weighed on Mole and me.
We avoided the night watchmen and city guards, using the cover of darkness to stealthily slip out of Chang'an City towards the southeast. My senses, enhanced by demonic essence, became a tremendous burden; the surrounding noise, smells, and even subtle emotional fluctuations emanating from others surged towards me like a tide, causing my head to throb painfully while the whispers grew clearer and more frantic.
"Power... offerings... true gods..."
I clenched my teeth tightly, forcing myself not to listen or feel anything, simply following Mole's silent and swift footsteps.
Yansheng Slope was indeed remote; there wasn't even a proper path—only wild grass and jagged rocks surrounding us. Even from afar, I could sense an overwhelming resentment rising up along with... that unique sweet yet cold scent of demonic essence so thick it felt almost tangible!
We hid behind a thicket halfway up the slope and gazed down at a relatively flat altar that had been hastily cleared below us. Just one glance made my blood run cold.
On that makeshift altar, torches blazed brightly enough to illuminate the entire mountain top while casting countless distorted shadows that flickered ominously. In the center of the altar stood Master Xuan Mo in his meticulously crafted dark robe on a makeshift platform, holding aloft a peculiar black seal while chanting softly—his voice low yet carrying an eerie penetrating power that drowned out both the wind and... the surrounding cacophony of inhuman roars!
Surrounding the altar stood throngs of... living figurines!
They varied in shape and form! Some retained parts of human shape with skin blackened and shriveled; others had completely transformed into monsters from scrolls, covered in scales with bone spikes protruding from their backs; some even resembled stitched-together abominations made from different human limbs! Their eyes glowed with hollow yet ferocious red light as they emitted deep growls restrained by some invisible force—like a procession of hundred demons; it was a horrifying and surreal scene!
There were at least hundreds! The Moke Figurine Sect had created such an abundance of monsters! In the heartland of my Tang Dynasty, beneath the feet of our emperor, how could such heinous acts exist without consequence? Where had all the glorious achievements of Kaiyuan's prosperous era gone?
Beyond the animated figures and the shadowy guardians wielding weapons, a few inconspicuous blue cloth sedan chairs lingered in the shadows at the edge of the altar, attended by equally unremarkable servants. The curtains of the sedan chairs were tightly closed, obscuring the identities of those inside. However, the cautious demeanor of the servants and their occasional glances toward the altar, filled with a mix of fear and greed, suggested that the occupants held significant status and were well aware of this sinister ritual, perhaps even… looking forward to it!
My heart sank to the depths. This was not some secret cult; it undoubtedly involved powerful figures pulling strings behind the scenes! No wonder the missing persons cases had been forcibly suppressed, no wonder the Shadow Puppet Sect could act so brazenly!
"The world is ignorant… unable to recognize true power…" Xuan Mo's voice suddenly rose, tinged with a sickly excitement. "Today, we offer a hundred demons as sacrifice, using the essence of monsters as a guide, borrowing the yin energy of heaven and earth to welcome the ancient true spirit into this world! Help us transcend the mundane and attain the great Dao! Body of divine descent, manifest!"
With his shout, several shadowy figures dragged a dozen bound and gagged living sacrifices onto the high platform! Their eyes were filled with sheer terror and despair.
"Materials!" They were nothing but "materials"!
Anger and fear exploded within me simultaneously!
Xuan Mo thrust a black seal towards a massive, pulsating black "tumor" at the center of the platform! At the same time, he took out a glass vial from his robe and poured its viscous liquid—radiating an intense glow, far more concentrated than any essence I had encountered—over those living sacrifices and that throbbing tumor!
"Roar—!!!"
A thunderous roar erupted from that tumor! It began to swell violently, transforming as countless black tendrils emerged from it, wrapping around those living sacrifices and dragging them inside! Their piercing screams rang out but were quickly drowned by the sickening sounds of bones shattering and flesh merging!
All the animated figures on the altar began to stir restlessly, emitting even more frenzied howls! The sedan chairs in the shadows swayed slightly, as if their occupants were also shaken by this horrific scene, yet they showed no intention of stopping it.
They’ve gone mad! All of them!
This monster, born from essence, living beings, and countless resentments, was taking shape at an alarming rate! The pressure it emitted made me feel suffocated even from halfway up the mountain! The trace of essence within me was also stirring wildly; whispers in my ears transformed into deafening roars!
"I have to stop him!" I grasped Mole's arm, my voice distorted by excitement and fear.
Mole's expression was graver than ever; he gripped his short blade tightly, his knuckles turning white from exertion. He looked at the terrifying creature taking shape on the altar before quickly glancing at the sedan chairs in the shadows. Deep within his dark pupils ignited a cold flame.
He said nothing but nodded firmly.
In that moment, there was no longer any employer-employee relationship between us; no more testing or holding back. We were like grasshoppers tied to the same rope, facing an unimaginably terrifying enemy together.
On the altar, the outline of that monster had begun to take form, its violent aura sweeping across the mountaintop. Master Xuan Mo spread his arms wide, appearing mad with joy as he laughed maniacally.
The final confrontation had begun its bloody prelude.
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