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The rain poured down, and the night, like thick ink, tightly enveloped the abandoned, unfinished building. The outer steel frame, illuminated by lightning, resembled a gigantic beast's skeleton, menacingly piercing the gloomy sky.

The air inside the building was foul and stagnant, a mixture of musty dampness, the smell of cheap incense, and the fanatical, acrid sweat emanating from dozens of bodies. In this isolated "sanctuary," dozens of ragged believers prostrated themselves, worshipping a crude sculpture made of plaster, scrap metal, and mud at the front of the hall. Their chanting was low and frenzied, echoing through the empty floors, creating a chilling, low-frequency resonance.

At the heart of this frenzied vortex, a dark shadow silently emerged.

Xiao Hei was like a drop of ink falling into clear water, quickly spreading and blending into the surrounding shadows. His breathing was perfectly synchronized with the sound of the rain, and his footsteps were so light that they didn't disturb even a floating speck of dust. The believers, immersed in the illusion of so-called "divine grace," were completely unaware that death was already standing behind them.

Xiao Hei tilted its head slightly, its eyes, glowing with an eerie green light in the darkness, piercing through the flickering candlelight and locking onto the strange statue.

That's not a statue at all.

By the flickering candlelight, an irregular, damaged hole could be clearly seen in the statue's chest cavity. Inside the rough clay, a nauseatingly dark red mass of flesh was embedded—a faint, yet still stubbornly beating, biological heart.

Several rusty metal probes pierced the heart muscle, connecting to the power supply device at the bottom like blood vessels. A dark red, viscous liquid slowly dripped from the probes, making a dull "drip, drip" sound. This was the most clumsy and cruel method used by the lower-level cult, employing unknown biotechnology to maintain the heart's activity as a kind of "false god core" to suppress the power of faith. The believers were not worshipping a god, but a lifeless mass forcibly kept alive.

Xiao Hei didn't rush to make a move. He approached the altar slowly, as if examining a poorly made work of art.

As the aura of the apex predator drew near, the heart, fixed in the clay, seemed to experience an instinctive fear. Its once slow and powerful beating suddenly became erratic, like a frightened mouse frantically thrashing about in its cage.

"Thump—thump—thump!"

The sound of my heartbeat grew louder and louder, even drowning out the thunder outside the window.

The next second, the heart convulsed violently, emitting a sharp, piercing scream. It wasn't a physical sound, but a mental wave directly affecting neurons. All the believers present jerked their heads up, their eyes rolling back, bloodshot, their previously dazed fanaticism instantly transforming into extreme terror and savagery.

"Blasphemer! There is a blasphemer!"

"He's...he's eating God's heart! Kill him!"

The core of the false god let out a final, desperate cry for help, instantly detonating the negative emotions that had been building up around it. The believers, their eyes bloodshot, grabbed whatever they could find—sticks, bricks, even their fingernails—and charged at Xiao Hei like a horde of zombies that had been turned on.

A burly man rushed up to Xiao Hei and smashed a hammer down on his head.

Xiao Hei stood still, his hands hanging naturally at his sides, without even lifting his eyelids.

"Bang!"

The hammer struck its target, producing a dull thud like hitting a steel plate. The burly man's wrist jerked violently, his hand splitting open, but he roared as if he felt no pain and charged again. Immediately afterward, more people surged forward, driven by their fanatical belief, attempting to overwhelm the dark figure with sheer numbers.

Fists, stones, and teeth rained down on Xiao Hei, but they couldn't even smooth out the wrinkles in his clothes.

He remained motionless, only slowly raising his head, his gaze passing through those frenzied and distorted faces, landing on the heart trembling in the clay.

There was a repulsive smell emanating from there—a stench fed on by the blind faith of humankind.

Since it's foul-smelling, it should be purified.

A silver line suddenly lit up on Xiao Hei's forehead. The light was not dazzling, but it carried an absolute zero chill, drawing a clear dividing line in the dim and noisy hall.

There was no explosion of light, no screams of carnage.

The moment the silver light flashed, the world seemed to be muted.

That wildly beating heart, along with the fear, fervor, and resentment permeating every inch of the surrounding space, was instantly "erased" in that moment. It was like using the finest eraser to forcefully rub away a stain on a piece of drawing paper.

The heart disappeared, turning into nothingness and dust along with the clay sculpture that supported it.

The deafening roar abruptly stopped.

The believers, still waving their arms and contorting their faces, seemed to have had their spines removed, their movements frozen in mid-air. A few seconds later, the crimson in their eyes vanished as quickly as the tide receded, replaced by a vast, empty bewilderment.

They looked at their empty hands, then at the altar in front of them—there was nothing there. No idols, no miracles, only a mess and drafty concrete walls.

What were they just kneeling and worshipping?

What are they desperately protecting?

The edifice of their faith crumbled instantly, and a profound sense of emptiness swallowed their reason like a black hole. Someone's wooden stick slipped from their hand, making a sharp crack. Then, the first believer fell to his knees, letting out a heart-wrenching wail.

The crying spread like a contagious disease, rapidly permeating the crowd. Dozens of adults huddled on the cold, damp floor, weeping like children who had lost their mothers in this cold, abandoned building. This crying was even more heart-wrenching than the sounds of slaughter from before, for it was the despair of having something deep within their souls utterly ripped away.

……

A hundred meters away, inside a black SUV.

The previously chaotic and high-energy heat source reaction diagram on the screen instantly became calm and subdued. The red that represented extreme excitement faded, leaving only blue dots representing sadness and weakness.

Qin Yue looked at the now-calm data model, let out a soft breath, and tapped a few keys on the keyboard to record the final evaluation result: "Target cleared, group Sanity collapsed, mission complete. There was no sign of resistance, just like... a gust of wind."

Li Haotian sat in the driver's seat, not smiling despite the victory. Through the clear fan-shaped spray of the windshield wipers, he continued to stare at the dark, unfinished building.

The rain was still falling, but the city seemed a bit more awake than before.

"The price of becoming an idol is losing yourself," Li Haotian muttered to himself, his voice so cold it was devoid of emotion. "Whether it's the person worshipping them or the thing placed on a pedestal."

He looked away and started the car. The low growl of the engine broke the deathly silence of the night. The wheels rolled over the puddles, splashing up a cloud of murky water. The black car quickly disappeared into the vast rain, leaving only the echoing, broken cries from inside the building.