Pitch-black mist appeared out of nowhere, enveloping the entire sacrificial diagram in an instant.
The sculpture in the center flickered with a scarlet glow, and the corpses on the ground twisted and deformed into mummies, as the blood flowing from them coagulated into eerie symbols on the ground, penetrating into the foreheads of the forty-four "goods."
A faint whisper echoed from the void, with a tone both bizarre and malevolent, cold and mechanical, repeating itself over and over. It was hard to make out clearly, yet seemed like a pre-recorded… tape?
Over and over, it resonated in the minds of the "goods," as if in this way, some unseen yet terrifying power was being imprinted deep into their brains, their sea of consciousness, and their very souls.
Luo Ji, with his eyes covered, was one of the goods.
