The Inaccessible Hiding Place

Rule one: The grass field does not move objects that are not in a state of displacement.

Rule two: The grass field does not move itself.

Rule three: The grass field does not move objects that are actively comparing their position to it.

After a final few tests, Lynch summarized these rules for the grass field. Without further hesitation, he crept cautiously toward the illuminated farmhouse.

With every step, he kept himself in a state of observation, ensuring that at any given point he had at least two ways to confirm his location.

Under the moonlight, the distance between him and the farmhouse shrank at a visible pace. In less than half an hour, Lynch had closed in on the farmhouse sitting at the center of the tall grass.

In the open clearing outside the farmhouse door stood a black stone about the size of a stool. From a distance, its texture was impossible to discern; it merely radiated a deep, pitch-black sheen under the moonlight. The stone's surface was carved with numerous stick-figure totem drawings. As the shadows of the surrounding grass swayed, these drawings wriggled eerily, constantly shifting their positions and poses, appearing exceptionally unsettling.

A sharp sting shot through his glabella, and an unprecedented wave of palpitations and dread flooded his mind. Staring at the black stone, Lynch felt all his muscles tense up. He realized that this object was likely a higher-grade mystery relic than anything he had ever encountered—far more dangerous than the Blood Elegy in his hand.

For instance, a disaster grade mystery relic.

【The Inaccessible Hiding Place: Before being swallowed by the black stone, the sinner Hogge used it continuously to conceal himself. Under his control, over a thousand soldiers pursuing him climbed the mountainside under the watchful eyes of hundreds of witnesses, only to vanish into thin air, never to be seen again.】

Hiss, it really was. Just hearing the description made it sound terrifyingly dangerous—definitely a disaster grade.

Once bitten, twice shy. Lynch had grown far more cautious. Lurking in the grass, he stared at the black stone, not daring to move for a long time. However, after carefully replaying the relic's story in his mind several times, he finally realized that he had overlooked a key phrase in the description.

In other words, the rules he had deduced were merely the effects of the relic running on autopilot. If a person were actively controlling it, who knew what kind of chaos this thing might unleash?

A chill ran through his heart. Lynch felt secretly thankful that he hadn't crossed paths with someone actively controlling the black stone, or there was no telling what fate would have befallen him.

Letting out a lingering breath of fear, Lynch seriously considered whether he should just take the mystery relic with him. A relic of such high rank was bound to be worth a fortune... No, it was bound to be extremely dangerous. It couldn't be left in the hands of these villains; he had to confiscate it on behalf of the Watchers.

Whatever, laugh if you want.

After a moment's thought, Lynch abandoned the idea. Not out of a sudden stroke of conscience, but because he couldn't be sure whether taking the relic would alert the hillmen inside the farmhouse. If it triggered an alarm, the losses would outweigh the gains. If he was going to confiscate it, he'd wait until he was leaving.

Is anyone actually here, though? Lynch wondered to himself, as the entire farmhouse remained completely silent.

Unsettled, Lynch hesitated over whether to get closer or just head inside to check.

His first encounter with the elder hillman—who had launched a precise long-range attack from over a hundred meters away—still gave him lingering dread. Lynch truly didn't want to engage in a head-on clash with him. But now... since he had already decided to protect Maya, he had no choice but to cast his doubts aside.

Glancing one last time at the eerie black stone, Lynch deliberately bypassed the area around it. Keeping his eyes on the farmhouse, he concealed his presence and cautiously closed in step by step. Everything around him was deathly quiet, save for the intermittent chirping of insects.

Creeping up to the exterior wall of the farmhouse, he pressed against the window and peered inside. Beyond the glass pane was an ordinary farmhouse dining room. From several metal gas nozzles in the corner of the wall, bright yellow flames spewed forth, illuminating the entire room.

They hadn't even turned off the lights, so someone was definitely living here. But where were they?

Taking two steps back, he looked up and down at the aged yet well-kept two-story farmhouse. The other rooms were dark; only the dining room had light. Lynch pondered for a moment, then began moving slowly around the farmhouse to observe it from different angles.

One step, two steps... Lynch gripped his cane tightly, walking silently past the corner of the farmhouse and turning onto its side wall. Just as he rounded the corner, a hideous face appeared right in front of his eyes.

It had a wolf-like face, shark-like pointed teeth, blood-red eyes, and twisted, rubbery skin. It was the exact visage of a ghoul. Lynch hadn't picked up on a single warning sign and had nearly walked straight into it.

Every hair on his body stood on end. Lynch instinctively took two steps back and swung his cane toward it. But halfway through the swing, he put all his strength into his arms, abruptly halting the cane right above the ghoul's head.

Once the initial shock passed, he noticed that it wasn't an actual ghoul. It was a hood that closely resembled a ghoul—just like the one in Maya's photo.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Lynch felt like slapping himself. Distracting himself with random thoughts in such a dangerous situation—he deserved a smack.

Comparing it with his memory of the photo, he confirmed that it was likely the exact same item. Lynch exhaled a breath of relief, easing his tense nerves slightly. He flashed a friendly greeting gesture at the hideous hood, then raised his cane to continue toward the back of the house...

Having already walked past the hood, Lynch stepped back, frowning as he created a bit of distance to inspect the wall as a whole.

This was a windowless exterior wall on the side of the farmhouse. Hanging sparsely across it were several components that, when assembled, likely made up a full ghoul costume like the one in the photo.

However, judging by the marks on the wall, more than one set had originally hung here.

Counting the nails, at least three sets should have been hanging here originally, but only one remained now.

Where were the other two?

Staring at the remaining outfit, a sudden surge of unease rose in Lynch's heart.

He might not fully understand the specific details of this world, but back in his homeland, Lynch had seen similar attire in plenty of movies and TV shows. Such outfits were usually dedicated props for important rituals, kept locked away and protected during normal times.

This time, those ghouls had actually brought the ritual props out into the open. What were they planning to do?

That wasn't even the most critical issue. The bigger problem was... not only had they brought them out of the mountains, but two sets were missing right now.

What were they doing? Could it really be as the sewer ghouls had said? Were they currently conducting a ritual to force Maya into her final state? Is that why no one was controlling the mystery relic, and why these props were missing two sets?

The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Lynch clenched his fists, anxiously surveying his surroundings.

They couldn't have gone far carrying those items, especially with the lights still on inside the house. The ghouls had to be somewhere nearby.

With a gun in one hand and his cane in the other, Lynch carefully circled around to the back of the farmhouse. He discovered that the backyard was occupied by a barn, and a few slivers of faint light were seeping through the gaps in the barn doors.

Seeping out along with the light was a series of eerie, low chants.