The Blood Pool continued to bubble, forming a thin layer of blood-colored mist, hanging over the surface and lingering.
The two "eyeballs" composed of condensed plasma suddenly turned, their scarlet gaze penetrating the mist and locking onto the silhouette suddenly appearing on the altar.
"Who are you? How did you get here?"
The sound emanating from the blood swayed slightly, hoarse and rough, as if something were stuck in the throat.
At that moment, Xuan Zhen's consciousness swiftly scanned the surroundings of the grotto.
The ground was strewn with the corpses of villagers, lying in chaotic disorder, bearing no signs of combat, yet entirely devoid of breath.
Clearly, during the recent blood ritual ceremony, they suffered substantial backlash, leading to such a dreadful end.
Beside the altar, the man wearing black-framed glasses lowered his head, gazing at the eerie human face within the Blood Pool.
