Chapter 1.17 Rituals_1

In the western suburbs of the city, a two-story wine shop vaguely stood in the night, with a sign for business suspension hanging under the eaves.

Old Zhang's wine shop had been open in Fenghuai for many years until an out-of-towner wanted to buy his shop early this month. Old Zhang was initially unwilling, but the man offered a lot of silver.

So, the wine shop hasn't opened since then, and occasionally a few out-of-towners go in and out without saying much. People speculated that the place was undergoing renovations.

Behind the building was a forest, neither too large nor too small, under which lay the wine cellar of the shop.

The wine cellar initially contained only two rooms. Later, when business was good, Old Zhang had it deepened into five rooms. At the time, he even hired old craftsmen from the county for fear of it collapsing.

The newly expanded wine cellar had two entrances. One was in the forest, accessible via a small path. The entrance was quite spacious and was used for moving large barrels of wine. The other was in the back room of the wine shop and accommodated one person at a time, keeping a ready supply for sale.

At that time, the forest entrance was open, and people with glazed eyes kept entering with bluish fire marks glowing on their foreheads. Their rigid steps seemed like they were rushing into the mouth of a vicious beast.

Inside the wine cellar.

Everyone had gathered in the largest room. If ordinary folks from Fenghuai had walked in, they would have been compelled to cover their eyes with surprise.

It was a peculiar sensation: their vision was suddenly brightened, but at the same time, a layer seemed to be stripped away. It felt as though the brilliance lit up the darkness, robbing them of some vision.

Once their hands slowly lowered, they could tell what was happening. The light dispelling the darkness wasn't the bright orange light of a lamp, but rather a creepy combination of white and blue.

Most people had seen only three types of light—the bright daylight, orange flames, and the radiant moonlight. But the flame burning vehemently on the center of the wall was of a fourth color, seemingly from a known ghostly realm.

The flame's flickering was drastically different from a regular flame, appearing significantly weaker and slower, giving people a different sense of tranquility, stiffness, thickness, and even coldness.

On the wall behind the flame, a gigantic fire symbol was accurately carved. It was also painted half black-purple and half red-gold, carrying a sense of solemnity and mystery that was in tune with the ongoing ritual.

In front of the flame, a stand held a weirdly shaped stick, seemingly made from bronze. It was covered in dizzying complex patterns. One end was incredibly sharp, as if formed for stabbing and killing, while the other was in the shape of a gourd, acting like a container. Maybe it was an illusion caused by the strange light, but the gourd seemed to breathe and squirm.

There were seven individuals standing in the room. Six of them stood lifeless in front of the flame, while a man dressed in a white robe with a sword hanging from his waist waited at the entrance.

After an unknown amount of time had passed, heavy footsteps grew closer, and then a door was pushed open.

The smell of blood filled the air. The newcomer threw off his black robe with one hand, tossing the last sacrifice on the ground, and then gulped down a few pills of wound-healing medicine.

His body was covered in blood. A slashing wound had soaked through the back of his robe. A few dried streaks of blood had flowed down his left arm, but the most severe wounds were two punctures in his chest and abdomen. These wounds had stopped bleeding long ago but hadn't been carefully bandaged.

For Wu Zaigu, the night had indeed been quite hectic.

Actually, the groundwork was laid yesterday when, out of the blue, a fish involved in the ritual slipped away, causing a mistake in the rite. Despite his intervention, the backlash from arranging the "Dragon's Tongue" again wouldn't lessen one bit.

Fortunately, he had a father and daughter with whom he could vent the wrath. Otherwise, there would have been no outlet for his anger.

To prevent last night's incident from repeating, Wu Zaigu had to personally visit the place this night.

Nevertheless, the magic artifact that conveniently arrived at the county office was unexpected. Surprisingly, the child of a wastrel that had joined a prestigious sect had posed quite a threat to him due to a strange fit of circumstances.

He could have had bided his time and counter-attacked, but the wastrel's frivolous way of squandering the prestige of the sect infuriated him, prompting him to take the offensive and relentlessly hack him to death.

However, this fight resulted in almost all of his own people dying, forcing him to personally capture the not-yet-arrived sacrifices.

Although things had been turbulent, all seven ingredients were now here, ready to bless his body the moment the right time arrived to accept the divine favor.

Wu Zaigu glanced at the line of bewildered faces in front of him, nodded in satisfaction, and closed his eyes while the white-robed man bandaged his wounds.

Time slowly passed.

There was no way to measure time in the cellar, but it was as though an accurate clock was ticking inside Wu Zaigu's heart. After a long wait, he shot open his eyes the moment the clock went "click".

It was time.

The next moment, the handle of the gourd's sharp stem gave off a dim light like a flame, abruptly stretching out into seven blue tentacles, blooming like a strange flower. Those tentacles ended in cone-shaped stings, from within which a sticky fluid seemed to slosh around.

The white-robed man who had been standing by brought forward seven prepared small bronze flagons, placing them one by one beneath the dripping tentacles.

Wu Zaigu, in the meantime, had changed into a brand new black robe and a pair of new boots. He solemnly and meticulously cleaned his hands, sparing no detail. Once his hands were clean, he took two steps forward, standing still next to the sharp-edged gourd with his eyes closed.

The white-robed man stood before him, holding an old book in his hands and started chanting. His long-drawn and deep voice echoed around the clenched space, "Venerating the high heavens of old times. The cosmos was endless, the divine wisdom chaotic. The divine Panku wielded his power, Xuan Yuan divided the cosmos …"

The "grand" prayer echoed around the room, as if they were in an ancient solemn and majestic divine temple, or on the grand and towering peak of Mount Tai. Just like the emperor leading his officials, proclaiming their accomplishments to heaven in order to prove the legitimacy of Heaven's Mandate.

But this was not more than a dank and dark underground cellar in this insignificant town. There were no emperors or generals present, only a pale and sick-looking man emitting lingering scent of blood and people looking like walking corpses.

"We venerated the Great One, the True Dragon Immortal Lord, who succeeded the Heavens and established his extremity. His divine rule brings forth divine governance where all mortals bow their heads and every spirit follows..."

The ghostly-looking elegant, ice and fire-like dangerous flame was flickering in the cramped space. Alongside the chanting, the tentacles reacted as if possessed, injecting the fluid into the bronze cups one by one as they were fed into it.

"May the divine spirits not forsake us, as we respectfully present our humble offerings…"

This was a sacrificial text, and, of course, it was indeed a sacrifice where the only offerings were…

Seven pairs of lifeless eyes started to bubble with fanaticism, twitching restlessly in place. Only the first boy was allowed to stagger towards the small flagons.

"We sincerely hope divine spirits to accept our humble offering…"

The boy reverently and thirstily grasped the small flagon.

The man stretched out his neck and sang out loud, "For your enjoyment!!!"

The boy held up the small flagon with both hands with a wild and unintelligent face and gulped down the Jadescent Nectar in the flagon.

The bronze flagon clanged as it rolled on the floor, and the boy's arms fell lifelessly to his sides as he stood still.