Chapter 112: The Sacrifice [Second Update]

The woman in the blue robe held up the ring, turning it over and examining it several times before finally tucking it into her bosom, seemingly unbothered that the ring had been taken from a dead man.

She snorted twice and walked away without another word.

Zhou Yi tugged on Sophia’s hand. There was nothing left to observe here. Although some ingredients needed to be brewed without human intervention, these were just basic components. It was likely preparations for the resurrection of the Black-Robed National Master.

The timing mentioned by that woman in blue made Zhou Yi uneasy—the ritual scheduled for tomorrow night must be for the resurrection of the Black-Robed National Master.

The aura emanating from the woman in blue was unlike that of the living.

This didn’t surprise Zhou Yi. Being called the Grandmaster and holding such a position, it seemed that on Ghostly Mountain, to practice forbidden arts, one first had to kill oneself.

Following the woman in blue, Zhou Yi and Sophia leapt from roof to roof until they reached a spot near the central hall.

By now, dawn was breaking, and Zhou Yi’s anxiety deepened.

However, he dared not enter directly. The sensation he had just perceived made this place feel most unsettling.

Though lacking the oppressive presence of the Black-Robed National Master, the chill that filled this hall was bone-deep.

Sophia, cautious by nature, stopped when Zhou Yi halted. They were at a side entrance to the central hall.

No one guarded this door. After the woman in blue entered, Zhou Yi and Sophia hid outside, concealed behind several ornamental rocks by the door.

Sophia stood watch while Zhou Yi sat cross-legged, eyes gently closed, focusing inward to sense everything within the hall.

He was unsure how to train this ability, but his attributes had recently improved, enhancing his perception, especially in masking his own presence.

He sensed the woman in blue as she moved deeper into the hall, her footsteps growing lighter, her movements gentle, as if unwilling to disturb those inside.

At the central platform, she knelt, silent and unresponsive, prostrating herself in quiet waiting.

Zhou Yi refrained from immediately sensing the center, quietly observing the hall instead.

Every decoration was unsettling—walls draped with net-like materials, paintings embroidered with what resembled hair, and the floor covered with countless small white stones. The pungent stench forced Zhou Yi’s gaze downward.

They were teeth—molars, human molars. Perhaps agitated by the three cauldrons of ‘oil’ earlier, Zhou Yi steadied himself.

Though he did not understand the purpose, all signs pointed to this hall as the ultimate ritual site, its layout far from random.

To avoid detection, Zhou Yi barely raised his head, merely glancing toward the center without any disguise or probing.

On the central platform rested a bed of white bones, upon which sat five earthenware pots. Compared to the hall’s ostentation, these vessels seemed humble, even shabby.

Beside the bone bed, an elderly woman with snow-white hair, draped in a black feathered cloak, busied herself with some task. Zhou Yi dared not move, fearing to disturb her.

The cloak’s feathers appeared to be the soft down beneath a vulture’s wings. Crafting such a garment must have required countless vultures—one hundred, two hundred, or more.

Her white hair was adorned with a striking white bone hairpin.

With a sorrowful sigh, she ceased her work and turned to sit at the corner of the bone bed.

“Rise now. Are all preparations complete?” she asked.

Though summoned, the woman in blue kept her head bowed, but upon hearing the question, she hurriedly replied, “Rest assured, Sect Leader, all materials have been prepared. Though rushed, the variety is comprehensive.”

The elderly woman moved slowly, as if half asleep or listening intently. After a pause, she glanced at the blue-robed woman.

“Good... that’s well... Now we wait for Liang Huang. His desire to witness is not without merit. But if Ruoqing is resurrected this time, only her body will return; I cannot say when her mind will recover, or to what extent.”

Anxiety and worry clouded the woman in blue’s face.

“So, Sect Leader means that the young junior sister’s soul remains incomplete; even if resurrected, she may not awaken fully, or reach her former peak?” she asked.

Only then did the elderly woman lift her eyes to the blue-robed girl, a smile gradually spreading across her face. The smile smoothed her forehead’s wrinkles but deepened those around her cheeks and eyes.

“You understand. Among you, Ruoqing is the most suited to endure forbidden arts. Over the past hundred years, I have tried every method imaginable. But time is merciless. If Ruoqing’s resurrection succeeds this time, I can finally rest.”

Hearing this, the woman in blue immediately prostrated herself.

“Sect Leader, do not speak so! You will surely live on. Once the young junior sister is resurrected, I will find you a hundred infants born under yin years and yin months—enough to nourish you! If that fails, use me. I have cultivated for over a hundred years. Though impure, my soul can still nourish you!”

The elderly woman laughed, head thrown back in hearty amusement. Yet beneath the laughter, Zhou Yi sensed loneliness, exhaustion, and resignation.

“Rise. Stop such foolish talk. We are already dead; it’s only a matter of whether our souls scatter sooner or later. Those who wield forbidden arts seldom meet good ends.”

The woman in blue banged her head on the ground repeatedly, sincerity so palpable even Zhou Yi drew in his neck, unsettled by the cult-like fervor.

The elderly woman moved, rising with gnarled, claw-like hands to help the woman in blue to her feet.

“Enough with such words,” she said.

The woman in blue shook her head and clung earnestly to the old woman’s feet, prostrating herself.

“Sect Leader, Ghostly Mountain can survive without me, but not without you. Even if the young junior sister is resurrected, she cannot control the situation.

Our clan is already small. To restore our great cause, we rely on Liang Huang. I understand this. Therefore, the Sect Leader must hold command. I am willing to sacrifice myself for this.”

The elderly woman seemed moved, gently helping the woman in blue to stand.

“Good child. I was not wrong about you. You were trained and raised by me; you have tasted the bitterness of forbidden arts. Ghostly Mountain owes its survival to you. Since your mind is made up, I shall grant your wish.

After the sacrifice, I will extract part of your soul to mend Ruoqing’s broken spirit, at least restoring her to her peak or even surpassing it. The remainder will be absorbed into my soul to guard Ghostly Mountain together—how does that sound?”

Zhou Yi’s body tensed.

He tried to keep calm; any sign of agitation might alert the elderly woman, putting them in danger.

But what did this sacrifice mean?

They planned to use the woman in blue as a patch to repair the National Master’s fragmented soul. As for the rest—well, as the elderly woman put it so kindly—it was to nourish herself.

This was far worse than any cult. Given how few people Ghostly Mountain had, likely many disciples had been consumed this way. Zhou Yi felt a wave of nausea but, watching the old woman reach out to the blue-robed girl, his mind raced.

Preventing the resurrection was imperative. After all he had heard, one thing was clear: over the past hundred years, many attempts had failed, leaving only the National Master’s forbidden arts successful.

Now, the most urgent task was to stop them from resurrecting the National Master.

And under no circumstances could the woman in blue be sacrificed.

This old woman should not be dismissed as just a hag—she was a formidable figure. If she grew stronger after the sacrifice, how could they contend with her?

Zhou Yi’s heart pounded; he wanted to urgently discuss with Sophia. If Ghostly Mountain proceeded with this, the world would truly fall.

The National Master’s resurrection would be even more powerful than before. With Liang Huang, complete control of the nation was within reach.

Ghostly Mountain would rise to prominence, and when King Wu was defeated, none could stop them. The calamity of the demon folk would engulf the world.

Before he could open his eyes, the elderly woman on the bone bed suddenly snapped her eyes open, her gaze sharp as lightning, tracking the direction Zhou Yi had hidden toward.

“A bold one. Since you’ve come, don’t leave. Your soul smells clean—come here, let me see if you taste good.”