A few minutes in a secluded area near the capital of the Black Bamboo Kingdom, a group of cultivators wearing pitch-black robes and faceless masks watched impassively as several people stood before them. They had dragged in a group of rural villagers—terrified, gagged with cloth, and bound hand and foot.
"Boss, everything is ready. We can begin," one lackey said in a hoarse voice.
"Good." The leader walked to a large stone altar and stopped in front of it. In the center he noticed a hole shaped to receive a spherical object.
He produced a crystal-clear orb and placed it into the hole. It fit perfectly. Above the altar a small progress bar appeared floated. The leader turned, his cold, indifferent eyes sweeping across the crowd through his mask; the victims trembled in fear and averted their gaze from him.
