The Faceless Man had no idea how long he had been locked up.
It could have been half a day, or perhaps much longer.
There were no windows here, only artificial lights. His sense of time had long since blurred.
Just as many people were becoming groggy with hunger and exhaustion—
Clang! Clang!
The heavy iron door suddenly screeched as it was shoved open with force.
Everyone in the room jolted, lifting their heads to look toward the doorway.
Under the lights, the iron door was pulled open from the outside.
Standing there were seven or eight people dressed in identical dark hooded robes.
The lower halves of their faces were covered, leaving only their eyes visible. Their gazes were cold, and they held ropes and shock batons in their hands.
"Are they here to let us out?"
A young woman was the first to react. Her voice was weak as she struggled to stand up.
"Finally, we can leave." Another middle-aged man also stood up with hope in his eyes, leaning against the wall for support.
"I knew it! They can't just be lawless like this!"
Someone else spoke a bit louder, their voice tinged with the relief of a survivor.
A rustle of hushed conversation broke out in the room.
Many faces were haggard.
The Faceless Man also stood up slowly, blending into the crowd. However, he felt no joy—only a deeper sense of vigilance.
The way these people were dressed was too strange.
Were they religious followers?
Furthermore, although they were masked, the features around their eyes were very distinct.
High brow ridges, deep eye sockets... and one of them even had blue-gray eyes.
The Faceless Man suddenly remembered something. He had encountered much history within the game instances.
The facial features of these people resembled certain races that had long since vanished into the river of history.
A terrible premonition welled up in the Faceless Man's heart.
Sure enough, a tall man in a robe, seemingly the leader, walked in and swept his cold gaze across the room.
Ignoring the various expressions on everyone's faces, he gave a cold command:
"Everyone, form a single line. Move quickly."
"Brother, are you letting us go?" the middle-aged man from before asked with a frown.
"Shut up and do as you're told!"
Another robed figure nearby barked. The shock baton in his hand lit up with a hum, radiating a clear threat.
The crowd was startled by this attitude, and their hearts instantly sank.
Faced with the other side's superior numbers and strength, the people could only begin to line up timidly.
Some complained in whispers, but none dared to speak up.
The Faceless Man kept his head down, silently shuffling his feet to join the middle-back of the line.
He tried his best to lower his presence and make himself inconspicuous, even though that face of his was quite striking in any crowd.
As soon as the line was formed, the robed figures moved into action.
Working in pairs, they used coarse, sturdy hemp ropes to wrench everyone's hands behind their backs and bind them tightly.
The knots were tied brutally tight, digging into their skin.
"Ow! What are you doing?"
"Aren't you letting us go?" a young man couldn't help but shout.
"Why are you tying us up? This is illegal detention!" a fiery-tempered middle-aged woman struggled and snarled.
Snap!
The shock baton struck her back without mercy.
Amidst the hum of electricity, the woman screamed and her body convulsed, instantly losing all ability to resist.
"To be able to contribute to our Lord's great cause is an honor for you sinners to wash away your filth."
"This is your salvation!"
"Don't be ungrateful. Any more resistance, and this will be your fate!" the robed man who had struck her said coldly, his tone dark.
Seeing the woman's miserable state, the others who had wanted to protest immediately fell silent, their faces pale and their eyes filled with nothing but terror.
When they were first brought here, they had vaguely felt that something was wrong.
But they had held onto a final sliver of hope, thinking the church wouldn't dare to do anything to them so brazenly.
Now that hope was shattered, they were likely in deep trouble!
The Faceless Man's heart also sank to the bottom.
He submissively allowed the rope to bind his wrists, the friction stinging his skin.
He lowered his head, using his hair to cover his face as much as possible, with only one thought in his mind:
‘It's over. I've been caught up in a huge mess!’
‘I have to escape. I must find a way to get out!’
Once everyone was bound, they were like a string of lambs to the slaughter, pushed and prodded by the robed figures as they left the cell.
They twisted and turned through the complex, eventually entering a dark, downward-sloping tunnel.
The tunnel walls were damp, smelling of mildew and a faint, metallic scent of blood.
Dim lights were spaced far apart on the walls, casting distorted, elongated shadows.
The further down they went, the more stifling the air became, and the temperature rose slightly.
The Faceless Man's keen nose picked up a mixture of complex scents in the air.
It was the aroma of food.
There was the toasted scent of baked flour, along with the strong smell of pepper, garlic, and various other seasonings.
‘A kitchen?’
‘Why are they bringing us to a kitchen?’
The Faceless Man was filled with doubt and alarm.
Soon, a heavy wooden door appeared at the end of the tunnel.
The intense aroma of food was pouring out from the cracks in the door.
The door was pushed open, and bright light along with a wave of heat and fragrance hit them in the face.
The group was shoved inside.
Before them was an extremely spacious underground area, almost like a small plaza.
However, it lacked the openness of a plaza; it was filled with all sorts of stoves, workstations, soup pots, ovens, and cookware.
There were also piles of ingredients stacked everywhere.
It was indeed a massive kitchen.
Dozens of chefs dressed in identical white clothing were busy, as if preparing for a large banquet.
In the center of the kitchen stood a middle-aged man who looked like the Head Chef.
He also wore a snow-white chef's uniform, tailored perfectly and spotless.
The Head Chef was tall and well-proportioned, with a thin face, high cheekbones, thin lips, and gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose.
His features were the same—deep eye sockets and high brow ridges.
As his cold gaze swept over the people being brought in, it was as if he were inspecting slabs of meat waiting to be processed.
He picked up a long, thin knife and slowly wiped it with a white cloth, his movements elegant in a way that made one's blood run cold.
The moment the Faceless Man saw this Head Chef, a chill surged from the depths of his heart.
The chefs in the kitchen were not masked, and their skin was so pale it was bloodless. These were exactly the other races the Faceless Man had seen in game instances!
What on earth were these people planning to do?
The cultists drove the bound group to an open space in front of the Head Chef.
The Head Chef put down his knife and clapped his hands.
Immediately, several assistants pushed over a small food trolley.
Neatly arranged on the trolley were many crystal-clear goblets.
The glasses were filled with a liquid that emitted a soft, glowing white light.
The liquid rippled slightly, giving off an incredibly enticing sweet fragrance, as if it could stir the deepest desires of the soul.
The scent was exceptionally strong, overpowering all other smells in the kitchen.
Many of the hungry people subconsciously swallowed their saliva, their eyes fixed on the glasses.
"Let them drink. This is the Lord's grace."
The Head Chef's voice was calm, even possessing a hint of pleasant resonance.
The assistants immediately began handing the goblets to the bound prisoners.
"Drink!" the robed figures commanded coldly from the side.
"What is this?" someone asked tremblingly.
Even though the contents of the glass looked enticing, they weren't so completely irrational that they would blindly drink something given by strangers.
"Drink!" The only response was the hum of a shock baton.
Some of the people at the front were forced to drink.
Others had their jaws pried open and the liquid poured down their throats.
Because of his striking appearance, the Faceless Man had been intentionally or unintentionally pushed to the very back of the line.
He watched with terror as the people in front of him drank the glowing white liquid one by one.
At first, they showed no reaction.
But soon, their eyes became vacant, and the tension on their faces relaxed.
Then, an expression of extreme bliss and intoxication slowly bloomed on their faces.
Their bodies went limp, and they collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Yet the blissful smiles on their faces did not fade in the slightest; they even became more vivid and satisfied, as if they had fallen into a beautiful dream.
The Faceless Man's scalp tingled, and his heart pounded wildly.
The stuff in that glass was definitely not anything good!
Finally, it was his turn.
An assistant frowned, casting a disgusted glance at his ugly face before bringing the goblet to his lips.
"Drink!"
The Faceless Man mimicked the people before him, lowering his head and leaning toward the rim of the glass.
Up close, the glowing white liquid was even more enticing. The fragrance rushed into his nostrils, nearly shattering his willpower.
He pretended to comply and took a sip. The liquid was cool and silky, and the taste was indeed incredibly sweet.
But he forced himself to resist the urge to swallow, using his bowed head and hair as cover to hold most of the liquid in his mouth.
Then, he pretended to choke, coughing violently and leaning forward to spit all the liquid onto his dirty collar.
A small amount of liquid inevitably trickled down his throat, bringing a wave of dizziness and pleasure. Images of beauty flashed before his eyes, but he forced himself to reject the intoxication.
After spitting it out, he also mimicked the others, forcing a blissful smile onto his face.
His body swayed, and he slumped softly to the ground, closing his eyes.
But he hadn't actually fainted.
He controlled his breathing to keep it long and steady, feigning unconsciousness.
However, he kept his eyes cracked open just a sliver, observing his surroundings through his messy hair.
The spot where he fell allowed him to see the center of the kitchen from an angle.
Before long, cold sweat rolled down his forehead.
He witnessed a scene he would never forget, and he had to strain to keep his body from shaking.
The unconscious victims lying on the ground with blissful smiles were picked up by several strong chefs like cargo and carried to metal workstations.
The surfaces of the workstations were smooth, with grooves along the edges connected to pipes below.
The Head Chef picked up a sharp knife and walked to a workstation.
His movements were elegant and composed, and he hummed a soothing tune that sounded like a hymn.
Under the Faceless Man's watch, the Head Chef flicked his wrist. A silver flash followed, and he precisely and efficiently slit the carotid artery of the unconscious person on the table!
Blood gushed out, flowing into the grooves of the workstation and being rapidly sucked away by the pipes below.
And yet, the blissful smile on the victim's face did not change at all.
In fact, the moment the blood surged out, the smile became even more radiant and satisfied.
It was as if they had reached the peak of ecstasy in their dream, completely unaware that death had arrived.
The Head Chef processed them with terrifying speed.
Bleeding them, stripping their clothes, removing hair, and butchering them.
The Faceless Man watched with wide eyes as the victims' internal organs were removed and washed clean.
The organs were sorted and arranged, waiting for further processing.
The prime cuts of meat were immediately processed into filling and seasoned.
What made the Faceless Man's scalp explode even more was hearing a few chefs nearby—who were filling dough molds with the meat—chatting in low voices as they worked:
"The people here have no body odor at all. They really are born to be sacrifices."
"Mm. The Head Chef personally adjusted the spice ratios. The texture of the big-face pies this time will surely be more favored by our Lord."
"The ceremony is approaching; we can't afford any more mistakes. The last sacrifice actually poisoned themselves before dying and almost contaminated all the pies."
"Don't worry. This batch is very quiet. There won't be any more slips."
"To become the foundation for our Lord's descent is their supreme glory."
Sacrifices?
Pies?
The Lord's descent?!
The Faceless Man felt cold all over, as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.
He understood. He understood everything!
This wasn't a legitimate church at all; this was a complete and utter evil cult!
Their so-called ceremony actually involved using living humans as sacrifices to create some kind of horrific food!
Only a cult could do something so horrifying and disgusting.
From the corner of his eye, the Faceless Man saw a freshly baked pie being brought over to cool.
Just one look made him want to vomit.
Even without knowing what the ingredients were, the appearance of that pie would never trigger an appetite!
How could anyone make a pie look like that?
It was literally a pie-like object in the shape of a human face!
The features were distorted and exaggerated, with a massive smile that stretched to the ears taking up most of the pie.
The eyes were two dark red candied fruits, staring blankly upward.
The crust was baked to a golden-brown, crispy texture, and it had even been pinched to create skin patterns and a high-bridged nose.
It was profoundly unsettling.
The Faceless Man's stomach churned, and he almost screamed.
He bit his lip hard until he tasted blood, barely managing to suppress the urge.
He had to escape!
Escape now!
He was at the end of the line, so he hadn't been processed yet.
But looking at the efficient and cold movements of those chefs, his turn would come soon!
Once he was lifted onto that workstation, there would be no chance to run.
Lying on the cold floor, the Faceless Man's heart hammered against his ribs as his mind raced.
His hands were tied, he was surrounded by cultists and chefs, and he didn't know if there were guards at the door...
What should he do?
What on earth could he do?!
Just as he was in despair, his gaze suddenly caught an inconspicuous drainage port on the floor not far away...
...
"I've only been gone for a few days. How did this place turn into such a mess?"
Yue Shi stood in the sky above Cuifeng City, looking down.
The entire city had transformed; the religious atmosphere was thick.
All industries had ground to a halt as everyone devoutly prepared for the ceremony.
Every pedestrian on the street had a Bible in their hand.
The Bible contained creation myths.
"This world was created randomly by our Lord during a night of drinking."
"The various misfortunes in the world are due to the unintentional actions of the Lord after alcohol poisoning."
Yue Shi scanned the Bible for a few moments, feeling utterly speechless.
What on earth is all this?
...
Investigation Bureau headquarters.
"That guy from the Radiant Church is about to invade reality. Let's all get ready."
The Minister spoke, his tone relaxed and devoid of any worry.
"Really? That's great."
Another high-level official was full of excitement.
"This really is like a pie falling from the sky, right into our mouths."
"Do those divine ghosts really think the real world is the same as it used to be?"
Rate on N.U.
