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Marbury and the man finally made their way through the low thicket, the branches leaving fine scratches on Marbury's skin, while the icy rain seeped into the wounds, bringing sharp pain and cold. When they finally emerged from the bushes, an open, small plain appeared before him. This plain was not large, surrounded by dense thickets that formed a natural barrier, completely isolating it from the outside world.
At the center of this plain stood a rough wooden table. Marbury couldn't help but furrow his brow; the table seemed hastily assembled, with uneven planks covered in layers of decay. But what disgusted him the most was that the table was piled high with rotting flesh. The grotesque mass twisted into unnatural shapes, exuding a strong, nauseating stench that was suffocating.
Flies buzzed in swarms above, their incessant droning haunting this desolate space. They occasionally landed on the putrid flesh, greedily sucking at it before hastily taking off again, drawn by the foul odor yet disturbed by the scent of death emanating from the decaying meat. Tiny maggots wriggled between the pieces of flesh, like the most industrious diners at this horrific feast, endlessly burrowing in and out.
Marbury's stomach churned violently; he could barely suppress the urge to vomit. His steps became stiff as he instinctively took a step back, but the man behind him remained silent, slowly advancing toward the table. His figure appeared even more eerie against the backdrop of this open plain, as if he were merging with the grotesque scene.
Marbury was forced to look up at the silver-white moon overhead. It hung high in the sky, but at that moment its light filtered through thick clouds, appearing pale and cruel. The moon seemed shrouded by clouds, sometimes revealing a corner and sometimes hiding away, as if playing the role of a cold observer in this bizarre scene. The faint light cast over the rotting flesh and blood added a ghastly sheen to everything, making the sight before him even more surreal.
A shiver ran down Marbury's spine; he felt that the moon was not just an ordinary moon but rather a pair of eyes coldly watching their every move, scrutinizing this unknown ritual. His breath quickened as his legs began to tremble uncontrollably.
"What... what is this place?" Marbury silently questioned himself, fear stabbing at his heart like a blade. The surrounding silence was only broken by the stench and the squirming of maggots; every corner of this place was filled with an air of death, as if this plain had become a boundary between life and hell.
A strong sense of unease washed over Marbury; a voice inside him urged him to flee immediately, yet he found himself unable to move, standing there as he watched the man step closer to the table laden with rotting flesh, waiting for his next command.
Suddenly, the man erupted into a fit of manic laughter that echoed across the silent plain, sounding exceptionally jarring. His laughter was filled with excitement and madness, as if long-suppressed emotions had finally burst forth at that moment.
"This is it!" the man shouted loudly, throwing his arms up toward the sky and tilting his head back to gaze at the silver-white moon, laughing so hard he could hardly catch his breath. "This is where everything changes! This is where it all begins! Here will be the origin of your new life, Marbury! Here you will be reborn and possess infinite power!"
Marbury stood frozen in place, his eyes filled with unease and confusion. He had never witnessed such a scene nor felt such an intense atmosphere of madness. The man's eyes sparkled with an almost fanatical light that pressed down on him with unprecedented weight.
"This lunatic..." Marbury thought to himself as his desire to retreat grew stronger. He couldn't understand why he had listened to this madman and come to such a bizarre place. Everything before him—the table covered in rotting flesh, that cold silver-white moon, and this maniacal laughter—filled him with overwhelming dread.
"No, this isn't right... I need to leave." Marbury finally made up his mind, and his feet involuntarily took a step back, a strong urge to escape surging within him.
However, before he could fully turn around, he suddenly felt something unusual beneath his feet. It seemed that Marbury's shoe had stepped on something, and then his right foot was swiftly tugged. The sudden force caused him to lose his balance, and he fell backward.
"What...?" Marbury exclaimed in surprise as he looked down, only to discover that a rope had somehow ensnared his right foot. Before he could react, the rope tightened instantly, yanking him violently into the air.
"Ah!" Marbury cried out as his body was quickly inverted, hanging upside down with his head facing the ground. He was caught off guard by the dizziness as blood rushed to his head. His hands flailed helplessly, trying to grab onto something for support, but his fingers could only grasp at empty air, unable to catch hold of anything.
"Damn it! Let me down!" Marbury shouted in panic, struggling against the binding of the rope. Yet the rope clung to his ankle like iron, showing no signs of loosening. His body swung back and forth in the air, feeling like a captured prey.
The man stood not far away, still laughing maniacally, as if Marbury's struggles and fear only brought him greater delight. He made no move to help or to lower Marbury; instead, he simply stood there quietly, relishing the beginning of the "ceremony" he had orchestrated.
"Welcome to the real world, Marbury," the man said in a low voice, laced with a chilling coldness. "You are about to witness your transformation; stop struggling... this is just the beginning."
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