absurd deduction game.

His gaze swept over Yu Xing, scrutinizing her.

“Fennell invited me to stay the night.” Yu Xing remained calm, gesturing with his chin to the corpse on the ground, and asked nonchalantly, “Why did you kill the cultists?”

Evan looked down at the maid's corpse at his feet, then looked up at Yu Xing.

A cold, indifferent smile curved his lips.

“For the sake of the ceremony,” he said. “It is the glory of these servants to give their lives for the summoning of my Lord God’s Kingdom.”

He paused, then added, "And you? Where were you just now?"

"I was recuperating in my room when I heard the commotion, so I came out to check it out." Yu Xing said casually, showing Evan the bandage on her shoulder. "Who knew it was a follower of God killing cultists?"

Evan stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly laughed.

“That’s right.” He released his grip on the maid’s ankle, and the corpse fell to the ground with a thud. “Since we’re on the same side, do you want to help? We’re still missing a leg; we need three more corpses.”

He pointed to the room at the end of the corridor: "There are two bodies in there. With this one, we can make three pairs of arms and three legs. It's too slow for me to handle this alone. If you lend a hand, it will be faster."

Yu Xing's gaze fell on the maid's corpse.

Then they moved toward Evan.

The corridor reeked of blood, the lights were dim, and the two people's shadows stretched long on the wall.

The air was so quiet that you could hear the wind rustling through the treetops outside the manor in the distance.

……

As six o'clock drew ever closer, an endless corridor stretched before Fernal's eyes in a space identical to the church's underground chamber.

However, the surrounding environment has undergone many changes.

The walls, floors, and ceilings—all surfaces—were covered with a thick, dark green substance, like the slime secreted by some giant creature, or like moss that had rotted to the extreme.

Beneath the mucus, countless insect eggs were densely packed together, each about the size of a fist. Inside the translucent eggshells, the outlines of curled-up larvae could be seen, slowly wriggling.

The air was filled with a sweet, rotten smell, which had completely covered and corroded the eerie bloody handprints.

Fernal walked leisurely down the corridor.

She wore light gold high heels, and with each stomp of the heels, several insect eggs were crushed. Dark green slime spurted from the broken eggshells, staining her skirt and shoes, but she didn't care.

The hem of her skirt brushed the ground, leaving a sticky trail.

Her expression had completely calmed down; the initial surprise at seeing the Eastern Ghost Bride had faded, replaced by an almost indifferent coldness.

Fear only affected her for a very short time.

Fennell raised her hand, her fingertips lightly scraping against the wall beside her.

The fingernails scraped across the layer of slime covering the wall, making a screeching sound, like scratching a blackboard with fingernails.

As she moved forward, the insect eggs on both sides of the corridor began to change.

Some eggshells developed cracks on their surface.

The cracks spread rapidly, covering the entire egg like a spider web. Then, one by one, wet, downy butterfly forelegs emerged from the cracks, gripping the edge of the eggshell and pushing hard—

"Pfft."

The eggshell ruptured completely.

The dark green butterflies struggled to crawl out, their wings still wet and stuck together, giving them a translucent texture. You could see the fine network of blood vessels inside the wings. The butterflies trembled in the air a few times, and their wings gradually unfolded and dried, revealing intricate patterns that resembled eyes.

They took flight, leaving a dark green trail in the air, before gracefully landing on Fennell's shoulder.

The second one, the third one...

The cracking sounds echoed repeatedly.

The insect eggs on both sides of the corridor hatched one after another, and one dark green butterfly after another emerged from the eggs. They fluttered in the air, and when their wings vibrated, they scattered fine scales. The scales landed on the slime-covered ground and walls, making the dark green coating even thicker and stickier.

Soon, butterflies were fluttering all over the corridor.

They flocked together, like clumps of dark green clouds, weaving, swirling, and soaring through the bluish mist. The sound of their wings clashing together formed a deep, continuous hum, signifying the shift in dominance of this space.

Fernail walked at a leisurely pace, her shoulders, hair, and skirt covered with butterflies. Some paused for a moment before flying away, while others clung tightly to her fabric, becoming moving decorations on her body.

The maze-like corridor seemed to have no end.

But Fennell knew that this space was being gradually eroded and assimilated by the power of her "nest".

The bluish mist has been gradually dissipated.

She could sense that the original rules of this space were loosening. The folded corridors, the repetitive scenes, and the illusions that disturbed perception were gradually losing their effectiveness under her influence. Now, the power of the loop had been broken.

She found the real "exit".

A figure could be vaguely seen in the fog ahead.

She wore a tattered red dress and a faded red veil over her head; she was slender and looked like a young woman waiting to be married.

The woman in red stood at the end of the corridor, her back to Fennell, motionless.

Fernail stopped in her tracks.

The butterflies on her shoulders fluttered up and gathered in front of her, forming a dark green barrier. The eye patterns on the butterfly wings glowed faintly in the mist, like countless prying eyes.

The female ghost in red slowly turned around.

The veil covered her face, only the outline of her chin could be seen. Her skin was so pale that it was devoid of any color. Her hands hung at her sides, her fingers slender, but her nails were jet black, long and sharp.

After a short wait, the female ghost let out an ethereal laugh and began to dance slowly.

Her movements were slow and stiff, like a marionette; her arms were raised, her fingers were bent, and her feet moved lightly on the ground.

There was no music, but the sound of bells filled the air—a clear, ethereal sound, sometimes near, sometimes far, carrying a chilling quality that seemed to belong to another world.

Fennell watched coldly as the red-clad female ghost's dance gradually quickened.

Her movements were no longer stiff, but became fluid. Her red dress fluttered as she twirled, and her black hair was faintly visible under her veil. The sound of the bells also quickened, and an overwhelming sense of fear inexplicably descended upon her.

The image of the dancing female ghost was reflected in Fennell's eyes. She raised her hand and smoothed the golden stray hairs that were stained with butterfly scale powder by her ear, her movements as elegant as if she were fixing her makeup in a salon.

Then, she gently exhaled a breath of black air.

"A poor performance, a farce, not even as good as those hypocritical ballroom dances of the nobility."

“...It’s almost time,” Fernail murmured softly.

The moment the words fell—

"Click."

A soft cracking sound came from the wall.

A tiny crack appeared without warning, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, then a second, a third... The cracking sounds were continuous, as dense as a downpour hitting glass.

Walls, floors, ceilings—all surfaces cracked simultaneously, the cracks spreading wildly like a spider web, connecting with each other, and in the blink of an eye, they filled the entire field of vision. A bluish mist surged out of the cracks, only to be quickly swallowed and covered by dark green slime and black aura.

The red-clad female ghost's dance came to an abrupt halt.

She stood still, her face beneath the veil seemingly lifted, facing directly at Fernail.

Although she couldn't see the eyes, Furnel could sense that the other person was "looking" at her.

She curled her lips into a defiant smile: "You should disappear."

The woman in red suddenly let out a scream, and the next second, she was swarmed by countless butterflies and devoured. The bell rang erratically for a moment before abruptly stopping.

"boom--"

The wall collapsed.

The spiderweb-like cracks opened simultaneously, and the wall peeled away piece by piece like a shattered mirror, revealing the flesh and blood beneath.

The surface of the fleshy walls, wriggling and covered with a network of mucus and blood vessels, is covered with protruding tumors, each of which pulsates rhythmically like a small heart. Between the tumors, thick blood vessels crisscross, flowing with dark green liquid and making gurgling sounds.

From the cracks and holes in these fleshy walls, one after another, giant butterfly larvae emerged.

Each one is as thick as an adult's arm and over two meters long. Its body is a cloudy, milky white color, covered with a thick, wet mucus, and its surface is covered with ring-shaped segments and fine bristles.

Their heads have no eyes, only a round mouth covered with layers of sharp teeth, which is now opening and closing, making a "crunching" chewing sound.

Under Fennell's command, these special insects began their rampage, intertwining, squeezing, and wriggling together. Their enormous bodies blocked all paths, and the sounds of their mouthparts opening and closing merged into a tooth-grinding cacophony.

Fennell stood there, looking at the larvae that had been born from the "origin" of her own nest, a look of almost loving kindness on her face.

“Good children,” she said softly, reaching out her hand and gently touching the slippery surface of the nearest larva with her fingertips.

The larva immediately stopped wriggling, its mouthparts stopped opening and closing, and it gently rubbed its head against her finger, leaving her fingertip covered in sticky mucus.

They tilted their heads back—if they could be called heads—and turned their mouthparts toward Fnair, hissing as if they were worshipping their mother.

Fernal closed her eyes.

She took a deep breath.

The air was thick with the smells of blood, decay, the sweet scent of slime, and the fishy odor of larvae... all these smells flooded her nostrils, yet they gave her a sense of comfort and satisfaction that came from the depths of her soul.

This is her territory, her nest, her children.

When she opened her eyes again, she lightly traced a line in the air with her fingertips.

The viscous liquid transformed into countless dark green specks of light, shooting out in all directions like a reverse downpour.

Wherever the light passed, the fleshy walls, the network of blood vessels, the remaining blue mist... everything was devoured, assimilated, and absorbed. The insects burst open, splattering juices everywhere, accelerating the process of killing this space.

The air distorted, the power of the rules nearly collapsed, and when the light dissipated, only Fennell remained in the spot.

A destructive aura spread outwards from Fennell, shattering the remaining spatial structures like pieces of glass wherever it passed.

The bluish mist completely dissipated.

Folded corridors, repetitive scenes, and illusions that disrupt perception—all the arrangements belonging to that Eastern undead were forcibly dismantled at this moment.

Fennell lowered her eyes and looked down at her feet.

She was surrounded by doors, but they gave off a familiar feeling, and traces of human activity were visible above her head.

Ahead stood a heavy metal door, engraved with purifying runes of the Mother Goddess of Harvest—the entrance to the sealed underground layer of the church.

She came out.

I managed to break free from Yiqing's "ghost wall" by force. Although it took a lot of effort and time, it was worth it.

At least, if she encounters Eastern ghosts and monsters again in the future, she won't be completely ignorant, right?
Thinking of this, Fernel sneered, her voice filled with malice, and walked to the metal gate, passing through the seal in the form of a shadow.

Outside was the underground corridor of the church, with gas lamps lit on the walls, providing dim but normal light.

She could sense the presence of the crowd gathered in the prayer hall above, indicating that things were not yet out of control.

In the basement, the pocket watch is rendered useless due to the seal, and the time is no longer accurate. Fernal walks upwards and finally sees the time on the church clock.

5:50 p.m.

There are ten minutes left until the 6 p.m. ceremony.

Just the right time.

Fennell smiled and was about to make a move when a butterfly flew in from the void. She raised her hand and made the butterfly land on her fingertip.

Recognizing that these were the "eyes" she had left in the attic, Fernail's gaze sharpened slightly, and she subconsciously asked in a low voice, "What's wrong?"

The butterfly's wings vibrated, producing a barely perceptible sound.

To an ordinary person, the sound was just the noise of an insect flapping its wings, but to Fernell, it was a precise stream of information.

She listened quietly, gazing into the countless hexagonal lattices in the dark green compound eyes of the fingertip butterfly.

A few seconds later, a cold smile appeared on her lips.

"The ritual materials were switched, and a trigger-activated purification talisman was found in the altar?" Fennell murmured, her tone revealing little surprise. "Evan and Yu Xing have already taken remedial measures... Ah... Is that so?"

The butterfly buzzed a few more times.

Fennell paused, her fingertips gently tracing the butterfly's wings, her movements as tender as if she were petting a pet: "Okay, I understand."

She knew Carlos would cause trouble everywhere, and the old archbishop had also been rescued by Carlos. These two were definitely the biggest variables in the ritual.

As for the blue-robed undead, the other party did not deny the contractual relationship with Carlos and was also a troublesome enemy. However, she did not believe that the blue-robed undead would still have the strength to fight after setting up such a powerful false space.

She asked, "What's the situation at the altar now? Has Evan activated the runes?"

The butterfly twirled on her fingertip, its wings vibrating at varying frequencies, conveying a positive message.

A look of satisfaction flashed in Fennell's eyes.

“Very good.” She withdrew her hand, and butterflies fluttered up, swirling around her. “Although Evan is fanatical, he’s fairly reliable. As for Yu Xing…”

She looked up into the depths of the church corridor, as if she could see through the layers of walls to the direction of the manor.

"Once the ritual begins and the Lord's Kingdom descends, he will naturally discover that chaos and freedom are the true destiny, compared to the hypocritical human order, and he will be glad for his choice today."

“Let’s go.” Fennell strode toward the stairs, her high heels clicking crisply on the stone surface. Then, as she approached the priest’s patrol range, she instantly transformed into a pitch-black shadow, flowing toward the manor.

"Go and welcome the coming of God."

Butterflies fluttered behind her, their wings leaving faint, soon-to-disappearing dark green trails in the air. (End of Chapter)