Ming Ke: When the villain accidentally mixes into the protagonist group

Some people were sobbing quietly, some were bowing their heads in silent mourning, but the piano music on the radio remained stirring, and the drumbeats were like a heavy hammer, striking everyone's heart again and again.

The orange-pig woman didn't know how she got there; when she reached out and touched that cold face, her heart almost stopped beating.

The original black robe was now reduced to a hood, barely covering the head of the yellow cow girl. The salty smell of the sea and the stench of blood filled the nostrils of everyone present.

With trembling hands, the orange-pig woman gently lifted the head of the yellow-ox girl. She could almost hear the girl calling "Enoki-neechan" again and again, but the girl's head in her arms was cold and damp. The yellow-ox mask that should have covered her face was gone, and the girl's face under the hood was delicate and beautiful, her expression peaceful, like a sleeping beauty from a fairy tale.

"Why did this happen? Why?" The orange-pig woman cried out in anguish. These words were like a fuse, instantly igniting the emotions of the black-robed cultists around her. Their suppressed sobs suddenly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

“Divine messenger, please accept our condolences. Protector Chun has returned to the embrace of the supreme deity, and we should be grateful for her.” The elderly black-robed cultist looked up at the dazzling crystal chandelier on the ceiling, her lips trembling slightly, and two lines of clear tears slid down her cheeks.

The young black-robed cultist wiped away his tears with the back of his hand, looked at the older black-robed cultist, and asked through sobs, "Can a crippled body... return to the embrace of the supreme god? If... I, missing a hand, can be accepted by the supreme god, then I want to cut off this hand."

As she finished speaking, the crying around her suddenly subsided.

The young black-robed cultist slowly lowered his head and raised his right arm. His wide sleeve slipped down, revealing a "hand" underneath. Perhaps it could no longer be called a "human hand," as the twisted joints and crisscrossing scars made it look more like the claws of a demon from an evil fairy tale.

"The bells are ringing mournfully, they are sighing, tears are falling into their hearts..." The stirring nursery rhyme was out of place with the scene, but no one paid attention to the newly emerging lyrics.

The orange-pig woman, clutching the head of the yellow-ox girl, staggered to her feet. Looking around, she realized they were in a secluded dead-end alley, the water stains on the ground leading them there.

“A broken body is not accepted by the supreme gods. Protector Chun was murdered…” As she spoke, the orange-pig woman felt her throat tighten, as if something was stuck there, unable to swallow or spit it out. After taking a deep breath, she continued, choking back tears, “We must find the murderer, avenge Protector Chun, and make those who hurt us suffer a terrible death!”

The crying gradually subsided, leaving only the drums and piano music from the loudspeaker, which grew increasingly intense in the empty corridor.

"Is it a brown bear?" someone whispered, their voice filled with fear. "But we can't fight him, he'll kill us..."

Before the words were even finished, someone retorted, "I don't think it's him. He's just a passerby now, and..." The black-robed cultist who said this glanced at the head in the orange-pig woman's arms, his lips moved a few times, but he didn't finish his sentence.

The orange-pig woman wiped away the tears on her cheeks, glanced at the head of the yellow-ox girl in her arms, and said in a low but firm voice, "Rest in peace, Enoki-neechan, I will definitely avenge you!"

Upon hearing this, the black-robed figures around them lowered their heads, interlaced their fingers in front of their chests, and softly chanted an ancient song, as if bidding farewell or offering a blessing.

At this moment, the child's voice was still clear and high-pitched, "Every step was done in the most detailed way, and there was never a small detail that was overlooked..."

Suddenly, all the black-robed cultists turned their wary gazes toward the path they had come from...

(To be continued...)