absurd deduction game.

The tips of dead branches peeked out from the tiny cracks along the edge of the window frame, like an inconspicuous piece of mold.

Through the senses of the branches, Yu Xing took in the entire scene inside the pavilion.

Perhaps it was a matter of perspective, but the room seemed larger than he had perceived it to be when he was human. However, the ceiling was low, and the sloping roof compressed the space, making the three-tiered altar made of obsidian and bones in the center appear particularly cramped.

The esoteric runes on the altar were painted with dark red pigment, resembling dried blood in the dim light.

The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the materials piled up around were nauseating to look at.

Just as Yu Xing finished glancing at it, a noise came from the ladder.

Evan climbed up first, his movements a little hurried. His hair got dusty as he climbed. Once he was steady, he immediately looked around to make sure there was no one else in the attic before he breathed a sigh of relief and turned to nod down the ladder.

The performer followed, much more composed.

After he went up to the attic, he first habitually straightened the corner of his clothes before raising his eyes and slowly examining the core of the ritual.

“Look, it’s arranged quite well,” the performer said, his voice echoing in the enclosed space.

Evan didn't reply. He quickly walked to the altar and began to examine the ritual materials.

His movements were meticulous; his fingers hovered an inch above each item, his eyes closed as he sensed them, and he muttered short incantations for testing.

Yu Xing's attention followed Evan's examination.

The pile of severed human limbs in the southeast corner quickly caught Evan's attention. Evan's hand stopped there, and his brows furrowed.

He opened his eyes and grabbed an arm.

The skin texture, nail shape, and even the wrinkles at the joints of the arm were incredibly lifelike, but the weight was wrong. When Evan squeezed it hard, fine cracks appeared on the surface of the arm, revealing the wood grain inside.

“…Fake.” Evan coldly uttered two words and threw the wooden prosthetic limb back to its original place.

In his memory, there were very few people who possessed this kind of forgery skills; most of them were outsiders who were difficult to ascertain.

The performer said cheerfully, "I forgot to tell you, Mr. Paper Doll is also an excellent magician. A little illusion is no challenge for him."

Evan ground his teeth, confirming that a total of seven severed limbs had been replaced. Fueled by rising anger, he continued his examination.

In the glass jar in the southwest corner, seven hearts are soaking in preservative solution. As his incantation fluctuates, subtle esoteric runes emerge on the surface of the hearts—this is the genuine article.

The insect-like monster's corpse in the northwest corner had been cut open and its internal organs removed. Evan squatted down, inserted his fingers into the insect's abdominal cavity, and groped around inside for a moment. When he pulled his hand out, his fingertips were holding a folded piece of paper with a faint glow on the edge. He unfolded it and glanced at it, his face growing even more somber.

“A purification talisman, triggered.” He tore the paper into pieces, the fragments spontaneously combusting into ash before hitting the ground, and murmured, “If energy flows through here when the ritual is activated, this thing will explode and destroy the entire energy circuit.”

Finally, there is food and water in the northeast corner.

Evan picked up a piece of white bread, broke it open, sniffed it, dipped his fingertip in the butter spread on it, put it in his mouth and tasted it. After pausing for two seconds, he reached for the salt shaker next to him, but as soon as he reached out, his finger recoiled as if he had been burned.

“Holy Salt,” Evan’s voice was almost squeezed out through clenched teeth, “…a fine tactic.”

He straightened up, looked around the altar again, and carefully examined the structure and runes of the altar itself to confirm that there was no other tampering.

“Only these two parts were replaced,” Evan concluded, his voice laced with suppressed anger. “The prosthetic limb and the sacred salt… the person who switched them was very careful; they didn’t touch the core materials.”

He paused, then snorted coldly: "These men under Fennell are too unreliable; they can't even keep an eye on the ceremonial materials."

As he spoke, he turned to the performer, a smile appearing on his face: "Thanks to you for reminding me, otherwise the ritual would have gone wrong if the anomaly hadn't been discovered in time. When the Lord's Kingdom descends, I will recommend you to the Lord. With your abilities, you will surely obtain a satisfactory position in the new world."

The performer bowed slightly, his posture as elegant as if he were taking a curtain call: "Then I thank Mr. Evan in advance."

“I need to contact Fernell now and tell her what’s going on here,” Evan said, walking toward a corner of the attic. “Make yourself at home.”

He walked to the corner of the attic, took out the tools he was carrying, and spent about ten minutes drawing a small communication array on the ground there.

Evan knelt before the magic circle, cut his fingertip, and dripped three drops of blood into the eye of the circle.

Blood seeped into the lines of the formation, and the pigments began to shimmer.

Aiven placed his hands on either side of the array and chanted a secret prayer to contact Funel in a low voice. His voice echoed in the attic, and the array's light flickered in rhythm with the prayer.

One minute.

Two minutes.

The light from the array gradually dimmed and finally went out completely.

No response.

Evan stared at the dim magic circle, his face so gloomy it could drip water.

"I can't get in touch with her." He stood up and dusted off his knees. "Something might have happened to her."

"Or are you just temporarily held back by something?" The actor turned around by the window, his tone relaxed. "After all, things won't be too peaceful at the church today."

Evan didn't respond to that. He glanced at the altar in the center of the attic, then looked at his pocket watch.

“There’s not enough time.” Evan spoke faster. “The prosthetics must be replaced with real human limbs. We need at least three complete arms or legs. All the holy salt must be removed and replaced with regular table salt. These two things must be done before 5:30, otherwise we won’t have time to activate the final runes.”

He walked towards the ladder as he spoke, saying, "I'll take care of it."

"Wait," the actor called out to him.

Evan turned around.

“I can help too,” the musician smiled. “I can find the salt, as for human limbs…”

He paused, his gaze falling on the attic floor, as if he could see through the wooden planks downstairs: "Why go to such lengths? Aren't there readily available materials on the estate?"

Evan paused for a moment, then realized what the performer meant.

He closed his eyes and focused his mind, extending his senses outwards.

A few seconds later, he opened his eyes, his pupils slightly contracted: "Why didn't they go to church?"

There were indeed still living people in the manor, not many, about seven or eight, scattered in various locations in the main building and the annex. Judging from their aura, they were all cultists, but of low rank, probably just doing odd jobs for Funel.

“How could Fernail really leave the manor unattended?” the musician asked matter-of-factly. “There always has to be some people watching over it. No one will notice if the church sends a few fewer servants, anyway…”

His smile deepened, but it didn't reach his eyes: "In her view, there's no future for Yolikef Town either."

Evan was silent for two seconds.

The expression on his face gradually shifted from initial surprise to a cold, almost cruel calm.

“You’re right,” Evan said, his voice devoid of emotion. “It is an honor for the cultists to contribute to the ritual that summons my divine kingdom.”

He walked toward the ladder, his movements no longer hurried, but instead revealing a resolute and ruthless nature.

“We can’t get in touch with Fernal, so we can’t be blamed for taking matters into our own hands, can we? I suppose she won’t mind losing a few servants.” Evan said, already climbing down the ladder. “I’ll go deal with the ‘materials,’ and I’ll leave the salt to you… entertainer.”

"It's my honor." The actor nodded slightly.

Evan's figure disappeared below the ladder, leaving only the actor in the attic.

He didn't leave immediately, but walked slowly back to the altar, reaching out to stroke the smooth surface of the obsidian. His fingers gently traced the dark red runes.

"How impatient..." the actor murmured, it was unclear whether he was referring to Evan or someone else.

He turned and looked again at the window that was boarded up. Yu Xing could clearly see through the branches that the actor's eyes glanced toward the window.

To be precise, it was a glance at the tip of a withered branch protruding from the crack.

The actor's lips curled into a very faint smile.

He didn't speak, but his lips moved slightly, silently uttering a sentence.

"Young Master, are you curious?"

Yu Xing scoffed inwardly.

It's not surprising that they were discovered; it would be strange if the actors couldn't even detect this level of spying.

However, since the other party didn't intend to expose him, he was happy to continue watching.

Yu Xing even manipulated the branch to extend forward a little more, making the withered branch more conspicuous in the gap, posing as if to say, "I'm just watching from here, what can you do to me?"

The performer looked at the withered branch and chuckled softly.

Instead of continuing this silent game with Yu Xing, he took out a delicate knife from his suit pocket and gently sliced ​​the tip of his left index finger.

Blood beads seeped out.

The performer smeared the blood onto the runes and, bit by bit, redrawn them.

His movements were slow and steady, each stroke precisely covering the original rune's trajectory. The blood lines seeped into the rune's grooves, blending seamlessly with the original paint, making them almost indistinguishable.

But Yu Xing could see it clearly—the part depicted by the bloodline had undergone a subtle change in luster, becoming deeper and more profound, as if it could devour light.

After finishing the last stroke, the performer withdrew his finger. The wound on his fingertip had healed on its own, leaving only a barely visible white mark.

He put away the knife, looked back towards the window, and waved to Yu Xing: "Goodbye."

After saying that, he turned and walked towards the ladder, his figure quickly disappearing below.

The attic returned to silence.

Yu Xing manipulated the branch to carefully observe the runes, and then withdrew the branch's senses.

He sat in the chair in the guest room, his fingertips unconsciously tapping on his knee.

The modified runes looked almost identical to the originals, but Yu Xing could sense the difference. It wasn't enhancement or destruction, but a kind of distortion.

Just like the performer himself, he is elusive.

But one thing is certain: the performer was also influencing the integrity of the ceremony in his own way. He pretended to expose Carlos's plan, and after Evan believed him, he personally sabotaged it.

As Yu Xing was pondering, a dull thud came from upstairs.

It sounded like a heavy object hitting the ground, mixed with a very short, muffled groan.

Oh, it must be Evan making his move.

……

Evan found his first target in the storage room on the second floor of the main building.

The man was a male servant in his thirties, taking inventory of the incense and candles in the storeroom. He turned around when he heard the door open, and a look of surprise crossed his face when he saw Evan.

"Mr. Evan? What brings you here—"

The words were not finished.

Evan had already reached him, his left hand flashing out to cover the servant's mouth. His right hand, seemingly out of nowhere, held a silver dagger—slender blade, its edge gleaming with a ghostly blue light, coated with a special paralyzing poison from the esoteric sect.

The dagger pierced the servant's left side from below his ribs, diagonally upwards, precisely avoiding the ribs, and pierced his lung, with the tip protruding slightly from his back.

The servant's eyes widened, a "hoarse" sound came from his throat, and his body convulsed violently, but the paralyzing poison took effect quickly, his struggles soon became powerless, and his pupils began to dilate.

Evan pulled out his dagger, wiped the blood off the servant's clothes, and then dragged the body to a corner of the storeroom.

The whole process took less than two minutes.

Evan's face remained expressionless. He examined the dagger, confirming that the blade was undamaged, then walked out of the storage room and gently closed the door behind him.

The corridor was deserted.

He sensed the locations of other living beings and walked towards the second nearest target.

……

Yu Xing waited a few seconds, and then a second sound came—this time it was clearer, and it could be heard that it was the sound of a person falling to the ground.

He should go out now.

Staying in the room pretending not to hear anything would only make him seem suspicious. Evan isn't stupid; once he finds out he's also at the manor, he'll become suspicious.

Yu Xing stood up and pushed open the door.

The corridor was quiet, but a faint smell of blood could already be detected in the air. The smell was coming from the direction of the staircase.

He slowly walked towards the stairs.

As soon as I stepped onto the second-floor platform, the smell of blood became stronger.

The source of the odor was the storage room at the end of the corridor—the door was ajar, and dark red liquid seeped from under the door, spreading a dark stain on the carpet.

Yu Xing walked over and pushed open the door.

Two corpses were already lying in the room. Both were men, dressed in the uniforms of manor servants, and were not very old; he had seen them last night.

Their fatal wounds were all in the chest, a single, clean cut, with significant bleeding. The bodies were left with their limbs spread out, clearly to facilitate further processing.

Evan isn't here.

Yu Xing stepped out, closed the door again, and waited in the same spot for a while.

Soon after, the sound of dragging and the rustling of clothes scraping against the floor came from the corridor.

The sound was coming from around the corner.

Yu Xing then lifted her leg, turned the corner, and bumped right into Evan.

Evan was dragging a corpse—a maid, brown-haired, in her early twenties, with a deep cut on her neck, the blood almost gone, leaving a long, dark red drag mark on the carpet.

He grabbed one of her ankles and dragged her across the corridor with the practiced ease of carrying a piece of ordinary cargo.

The two met each other's eyes in the middle of the corridor.

Evan stopped what he was doing.

His face was expressionless, with only fine beads of sweat on his forehead, and his breathing was slightly rapid—killing and dragging corpses were both physically demanding tasks, which were a bit too much for a painter.

“Ah, Mr. Yu Xing,” Evan said, his tone as calm as a greeting, “You’re here too.” (End of Chapter)