"The first sacrifice, and it connected to the Evil Sacrifice?!!"

The agent’s teeth trembled uncontrollably, his voice distorted and warped with extreme excitement, his scalp tingling, as joy and fear clashed like turbulent currents inside his skull.

Good news, he could now firmly confirm that the Sheepskin Scroll was real;

Bad news, the scroll was too real, summoning the Evil Sacrifice in just one go.

Although only a pair of eyes appeared, the problem was, the agent really wasn’t mentally prepared.

What happened to the promised three sacrifices?

Why was the game not played by the rules?

How did just one invocation summon the Evil Sacrifice?

One shot, straight to the soul, damn it!!!

"What should I do now, should I greet the Evil Sacrifice, can It understand me, or do I have to use sign language?!!"

Forgive the agent’s helplessness, after all, it was his first time performing an [Evil Sacrificial Ceremony], and he really had no experience.

An abrupt mutation!

The agent saw the maid on the ground, her swollen abdomen suddenly deflated at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Immediately afterward, as if weathered, it disintegrated silently from the edges.

First, the fingers and toes transformed into wisps of black smoke, then the limbs, torso... like paper figures thrown into a furnace, without burning, without sound, only ethereal black smoke rising.

In just a few seconds, a living person vanished into nothingness.

In place, only an empty maid’s uniform remained—shirt, skirt, apron, socks, all collapsed limply on the cold floor, soaked in dark red blood that hadn’t fully coagulated.

It was as if a doll had suddenly been emptied of its stuffing, leaving only an "empty shell" to prove its existence.

This scene suddenly reminded the agent of Wang Yilin’s desiccated corpse, drained of its blood cells by the [Mask].

The agent swallowed hard, his neck stiffly upwards, both hoping that those eyes above would notice him, yet fearing they actually would.

However, the gaze of the Sacrifice continued to rove over the altar, unwilling to spare him a glance.

"I get it, the altar is the dining plate offered to the Evil Sacrifice."

The agent thought with sudden understanding, never expecting that the Evil Sacrifice would adhere to dining etiquette.

Unlike humans, who liked to keep an eye on both the bowl and the pot.

After another ten seconds or so, the black mist on the ceiling gradually dimmed, as if about to slowly dissipate.

The agent let out a long sigh, yet an intense unwillingness surged up within him.

Then, he gritted his teeth fiercely, inching his way to the edge of the altar.

He didn’t dare step further, afraid he would end up on the dining plate and be misunderstood by the Evil Sacrifice.

But he was unwilling to let the Evil Sacrifice dine for free and leave just like that.

Then, he stopped at the boundary of the "dish," when a faint, vague voice reached his ears.

——[Do you want to understand the meaning of life? Do you want to truly... live?]

The voice was very light, as if whispered in the neighboring room, overheard by him through the wall.

The agent froze in place, his heart pounding wildly, and a sudden insight dawned upon him:

"The maid didn’t answer the Evil Sacrifice’s question? Or answered incorrectly, that’s why she was consumed?"

The agent cursed himself for being foolish, feeling he finally understood how to succeed in the [Evil Sacrificial Ceremony].

No, rather, he felt he knew a bit about how to create the [Mask] correctly.

It wasn’t boasting if the agent said he understood the meaning of life too well, and that he wanted to truly live.

"This question of the Evil Sacrifice should be answered by me!"

The agent thought quietly to himself.

Simultaneously, the black mist on the ceiling, along with those terrifying eyes, began to slowly dissipate.

As the black mist completely dispersed, the ceiling returned to its original state, the light hanging above still casting its soft glow, stretching the agent’s shadow long on the floor.

Everything returned to "normal."

The agent exhaled deeply, ready to open the door and have someone clean the room.

After some thought, he decided, for once, to do the cleaning himself, likely for the first time since he was born.

There was naturally no mop or cloth in the recreation room, but the maid’s blood-soaked uniform on the ground was a ready-made "cleaning tool."

He pressed his shoe upon the clothing, dragging it back and forth on the floor, and soon the hand-drawn altar was smeared beyond recognition.

Many things from the Ancient Era were destroyed in the cataclysm, but some survival philosophies can outlast the disaster.

——Only tools and names cannot be passed to others!

At this moment, verifying the authenticity of the Sheepskin Scroll and its recorded contents became the agent’s "tools and name."

Let alone entrusting it to others, even letting someone take an extra look was worthy of endless retribution!

Outside the door.

Feng Ju pressed his ear tightly against the door, but even with his heightened senses after resurrection, he couldn’t hear the slightest sound from within the room.

If it were a door from his own house, you’d hear a fart distinctly from the outside.

"Truly the door of a wealthy household, damn it." Feng Ju thought darkly, cursing silently.

Just as his mind was in turmoil, the door suddenly opened from inside.

Feng Ju reacted quickly, instantly standing straight, all the darkness on his face vanished in a flash, replaced by an appropriately respectful expression, with a hint of inquiry.

Yet his gaze immediately darted over the agent’s shoulder, peering around the room.

"Can’t see too clearly, I’ll have to get in to properly view the patterns on the floor." Feng Ju thought regretfully.

"Come in, there’s something I need you to do."

The agent suddenly stepped aside, motioning for Feng Ju to enter.

Feng Ju finally got his wish and stepped into the room. Upon seeing the polluted and unrecognizable "crime scene," a surge of grief and indignation rushed to his head.