In front of the main entrance of the Sect of Deliverance church, there was a square.
Several massive stone pillars stood in the square, their surfaces carved with dense, intricate patterns.
The patterns depicted people kneeling in worship, some offering sacrifices, and others lying on the ground with grotesque tentacles sprouting from their bodies.
Some devotees stood on high ground with their arms wide open, backed by countless faces looking up at them.
The style of the patterns was ancient and distorted. While the expressions on every face were blurred, their eyes...
Yue Shi approached one of the stone pillars and looked closely.
The eyes were inlaid with some kind of black stone. In the light of the overcast day, those black stones shimmered faintly, as if they were alive, staring at him from all directions.
He stared into one of those eyes for a few seconds.
The eye seemed to be staring back at him.
The snow leopard gave a low purr in his arms, its ears flattening into airplane ears.
Yue Shi gently patted the snow leopard's head and turned away from the stone pillar.
There were even more people in the square.
There were islanders lining up to give offerings to the church, priests patrolling back and forth, devotees responsible for maintaining order, and a few people who were a bit different.
Those people were dressed in ordinary clothes and blended into the crowd, appearing no different from the average islander at first glance.
However, Yue Shi noticed that their movements were half a beat slower than normal, and their expressions were far too calm—so calm they were almost numb.
Occasionally, when a priest passed by them, they would give a slight nod as if in greeting.
Those people would also nod back, their movements sluggish.
Yue Shi looked toward one of them.
It was a middle-aged man wearing gray coarse cloth clothes, standing motionless beside a stone pillar at the edge of the square.
His face was turned toward the church, but his eyes seemed to be looking at nothing, his gaze hollow and vacant.
After a long time, he suddenly moved, turning his head very slowly. Those empty eyes met Yue Shi's gaze perfectly.
A few seconds later, the man turned back and continued to face the church, standing as still as a statue.
Yue Shi withdrew his gaze.
In his arms, the snow leopard's tail flicked gently.
In the distance, the chanting of the cultists drifted over, low and lingering, like a murmur rising from deep underground.
As the people in line listened to this sound, the expressions on their faces gradually became dazed.
The sky grew darker and darker.
The wind blew in from the sea, the salty brine mixed with a faint, lingering scent of rot.
Yue Shi stared at the church; some obscure malice was churning within.
Half a minute later, he turned and left.
Behind him, the chanting continued.
The people in line were still waiting.
...
In the afternoon, the sky was even darker than it had been in the morning.
In the square before the Sect of Deliverance church, there were more people than there had been earlier.
Many islanders were still waiting in line.
Robed cultists moved through the crowd, maintaining order and occasionally whispering instructions.
Suddenly.
Boom!
A loud explosion erupted from the eastern side of the square.
Flames surged upward, the orange-red light instantly devouring that entire area.
There had originally been several temporary sheds there, used by the Sect of Deliverance to receive followers and collect offerings.
At this moment, those sheds had turned into a ball of fire. Burning fabric and wooden frames flew in all directions, crashing into the crowd and triggering a chorus of screams.
"It's on fire! Run!"
"My child!"
The crowd exploded; the long queue disintegrated as people fled in all directions.
Some tripped and were trampled by those behind them, their screams and cries for help blending into a chaotic mess.
The sluggish individuals also moved, but they were very slow, knocked over and pushed around by the fleeing crowd.
The fire burned more and more intensely.
Worse still, the flames were spreading rapidly.
From the sheds on the east side, the fire followed a linear path toward the stone pillars in the center of the square.
As the firelight reflected off the eerie patterns on the pillars, the black stones inlaid in the eyes seemed to glow as if they were coming to life.
"Quick, put out the fire!"
Several cultists were the first to react, rushing toward the source of the fire.
They chanted incantations, and a pale blue light surged from their palms, covering the flames. Their movements were exactly the same as those of the Sect of All Spirits followers from the previous night.
But this time, the flames were not swallowed up.
The moment the blue light touched the fire, the flames shrank for an instant and then rebounded.
The blue light surged back, slamming hard into those cultists.
They screamed and were sent flying, crashing onto the ground and spitting blood, unable to get back up.
"No, there's something wrong with this fire!" someone shrieked.
But more cultists had already rushed forward. They stopped trying to use spells to extinguish the fire and instead bypassed the flames, charging toward the source.
At the source of the fire, beside a burning shed on the eastern side of the square, stood a figure.
The person was dressed in dusty gray coarse cloth clothes, their face masked, leaving only a pair of eyes exposed.
Something hotter than the flames burned in those eyes.
It seemed to be hatred, along with a certain frenzied determination.
He held a bottle in his hand, with transparent liquid still pouring from its mouth. As the liquid dripped onto the ground, it immediately ignited into new flames.
"It's him! Catch him!"
The Sect of Deliverance followers roared as they lunged forward.
The man didn't run. He just stood there, watching the approaching followers, his mouth curling into a malicious smile.
Then, he smashed the bottle in his hand onto the ground.
Boom!
The flames exploded again, forming a wall of fire that temporarily blocked the followers' path.
But there were too many Sect of Deliverance followers.
Some bypassed the fire wall and lunged at him from the side. He dodged and drew a short blade from his waist, plunging it deep into a person's chest.
The person screamed and collapsed.
More followers swarmed him.
The Arsonist's skills were indeed good; the short blade danced in his hands, and another Sect of Deliverance follower fell at his feet.
Unfortunately, he was overwhelmed by their numbers.
Just as he took down a fifth person, a club slammed hard into the back of his neck from the side.
His vision went black, and he staggered. Before he could steady himself, several more clubs struck him simultaneously.
He fell to his knees, the short blade slipping from his hand and flying far away.
The followers surrounded him, kicking and punching him mercilessly.
Curled on the ground, he used the last of his strength to lift his head and look forward.
There stood a Priest in ornate robes on the steps of the church entrance, watching everything with an expressionless face.
The Arsonist laughed.
His mouth was full of blood, but he was definitely laughing.
Using the last of his strength, he fished something out of his clothes.
It was a lighter.
It looked ordinary, its metal casing already stained with blood.
He clicked the lighter.
At the same time, his other hand pulled a thin string from his collar.
It was a fuse, connected to a bulging cloth bag at his waist.
White smoke hissed from the bag.
"Oh no!"
The followers closest to him felt their pupils shrink in terror as they scrambled back frantically.
But it was too late.
Boom!
An explosion ten times more powerful than before erupted on the eastern side of the square.
The shockwave radiated outward, flipping over the nearest row of sheds, shattering several nearby stone pillars, and tossing the surrounding Panxing Sect followers into the air like broken dolls.
Flames rose, forming a small mushroom cloud.
When the thick smoke cleared, only a scorched crater remained at the center of the explosion.
There were several charred corpses in the pit.
One of them was curled up in a distorted posture, its features no longer recognizable.
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