“Is this guy really okay?”

“He seems to have some kind of item that’s shielding his human scent, but I don’t smell a ghostly scent on him either. He should be fine for now.”

“What if something goes wrong again? Who’s going to wear that mask?”

“…”

Wu Wang led the way at the front while the group behind him buzzed with discussion. Their voices weren’t quiet. In fact, they made no effort to hide their conversation from him.

Their reasoning was twofold. First, if Pending Death really had a problem, hearing their doubts might pressure him into revealing a flaw. Second, they genuinely needed to decide what to do if something happened to him.

Who would wear the human-skin mask then?

Without the Red Vertical Pupil’s ability to see through illusions, they could only assume that someone had to wear the mask to lead them into the Nuo Opera Garden.

Otherwise, they might just be expelled by the Ghost Wall again, which would be the best-case scenario. What they truly feared was the Ghost Wall trapping them here, with no way to escape.

Being stuck in this godforsaken place would inevitably lead to even greater disaster.

The book boy sighed audibly.

“Fine,” he said. “Since you all don’t trust my judgment, if something happens to him later, I’ll be the one to wear the mask. Alright?”

He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness, but there was not a trace of fear in his eyes.

“A man can lose his footing, a horse can miss its hand,” Wu Wang called cheerfully from the front.

“You did misjudge once, after all. How can you expect them to fully trust you?”

Hearing this, the others looked at Wu Wang with a hint of approval. The probability that he was the real Pending Death grew higher.

They knew he was referring to the performance of Changbanpo. The book boy had judged him to be offstage, only for Wu Wang to jump out of the Prince’s arms a second later, proving him wrong.

The book boy smiled at his words.

“Brother Pending Death, it should be ‘a man can miss his hand, a horse can miss its footing.'”

But Wu Wang shook his head.

“I don’t know about hands,” he said, “but we definitely have hooves now.”

Just as he finished speaking, Qiao Biluo cried out in alarm.

“My hand! My hand!”

The others looked over, confused.

On Qiao Biluo’s only remaining arm, where her hand should have been, there were no fingers. Instead, a fat pig’s trotter was flapping about.

A wave of panic washed over them as they quickly raised their own hands.

To their horror, their hands had also started to change. Coarse, stiff hairs were sprouting from their skin, and a layer of keratin was forming, their fingers beginning to fuse into animal-like hooves.

“Is this some kind of curse?” Zi Jin frowned.

She pressed the Talisman Paper she had prepared for Wu Wang against her own arm.

But it triggered no reaction at all. Her palm continued its slow regression into a hoof.

The sight alarmed her.

“It’s not a curse! What is this?!”

Her Talisman Paper was a top-tier item among the 【Epic】 grade, just one step below a 【Legendary】 item. Throughout the dozens of Instances she had experienced, any curse, including ordinary ghosts, would be severely injured or even destroyed on contact.

She had been ready to use it on Wu Wang to see if he was possessed.

For it to have no effect now could only mean one thing. This wasn’t a curse. It was some other, unknown power.

The book boy narrowed his eyes. “This is a 【Blessing】. It’s just that we aren’t the ones being 【Blessed】.”

He said slowly, “It seems we’ve become Sacrifices.”

“Though it’s a strange one, this is fundamentally the power of a 【Blessing】, which is why you can’t dispel it. After all, what kind of evil-warding talisman can dispel a blessing?”

The others were stunned.

A blessing?

You call this mutation a blessing?

Whose blessing turns a person’s hands into pig trotters?

Ignoring their bewildered looks, the book boy strode to Wu Wang’s side, his expression grave.

“You can see where the corpse is, right?” he asked with unnerving certainty. “Only you can see it.”

Wu Wang turned to look at the effeminate man who had been hiding his true strength.

A playful look entered his eyes.

“Are you referring to the ‘effigy’ or the ‘corpse’?” he asked. “I’ve seen them both.”

The sentence was strange and awkward, but the book boy understood. He turned to explain to the others.

“Nuo Opera is a form of opera derived from sacrificial culture.”

“While most operas originated this way, Nuo Opera is more closely tied to sacrifice. It’s what they call a Spirit Jumping Ritual.”

“In ancient sacrificial rituals, there was a method called ‘Living Effigy Sacrifice’.”

“The ‘shī’ (尸) here doesn’t mean a dead body. It refers to the person who plays the role of a god or ghost during the sacrifice, receiving the offerings in their stead.”

“The ‘shī’ (尸) that means a dead body represents a corpse. If you’ve seen both…”

His gaze snapped back to Wu Wang.

“Does that mean the sacrifice has already begun?”

The book boy’s words revealed that there were things nearby that they couldn’t see, and a sudden chill ran down the other players’ spines.

They frantically surveyed their surroundings.

But all they saw was a dilapidated stage in the distance, a few strange wooden pillars, and tattered cloths fluttering in the sinister wind. That, and the hundred or so bizarre, ghost-faced masks scattered across the ground.

Otherwise, they saw nothing. Everything was deathly still. There was no sign of the corpse or the effigy he had mentioned.

Xiaoxiao stepped forward.

“You…” she began. “In your eyes, what does this place look like?”

Wu Wang didn’t answer right away.

He studied the scene before him, contemplating how to describe such a bizarre and eerie sight.

In his eyes, it wasn’t a dilapidated stage. It was a sacrificial high altar, as tall as a beacon tower, with flames soaring into the sky. The flames, however, were an eerie, ghostly green.

The strange wooden pillars were actually instruments of torture. Tied to the very top of one was a man. His blue hair was unmistakable. It was the blue-haired executioner they were looking for.

Hanging high above, he was completely still, for he was already dead.

This was the “corpse” Wu Wang had seen.

And there was the “effigy.”

A bare-chested, burly man wearing a Fierce Ghost mask was circling the pillar, performing a bizarre, leaping dance. Many of his movements were impossible for a human, his ankles spraining and twisting multiple times until they were swollen and necrotic.

But he paid it no mind.

He gripped a shield and a blade, which he beat and swung wildly with savage, exaggerated motions.

The only reason Wu Wang still thought he might be a person was because he recognized him. Even through the mask, he could tell from the burly figure and the mangled feet.

This man was none other than 【Power King】, the player who had been carried away by the troupe master!

A bold speculation formed in Wu Wang’s mind.

Power King wasn’t completely dead!

His body was outside, but his soul had been stripped away and brought into the Nuo Opera Garden. The other players couldn’t see him, which proved that in his current state, Power King didn’t belong to the world of the living.

But if he could bring the soul out and return it to its body… could he be revived?

As the thought crossed his mind, a bitter smile touched Wu Wang’s lips.

It was too late.

The troupe master had already engaged in a “heartfelt” and “in-depth” exchange with Power King’s corpse.

A body without a heart… even if the soul returned, it would only dissipate into nothing.

But those two sights alone were not what made the scene truly bizarre. The terrifying part was the masks.

The hundred or so ghost-faced masks the other players saw… in Wu Wang’s eyes, were a field of terrifying ghosts and monsters.

For every mask, there was a Fierce Ghost.

They were a spectacle of endless grotesquerie, each with a different, horrifying form. They encircled the sacrificial altar, their heads turned in unison to stare at the five uninvited guests who had stumbled into their domain.

Meeting the gazes of several hundred pairs of eyes at once, even Wu Wang, who prided himself on his high Sanity score, felt his scalp tingle.

His entire body went stiff, as if he’d been plunged into an ice cellar.

The ghosts’ eyes swirled with greed and ecstasy.

Faint whispers began to emanate from the crowd.

“When people face hardship… there is Nuo… when the Nuo Dance begins… disasters and plagues are averted!”

“The Sacrifices…”

“…have arrived…”

“Let the opera begin!”