I told you to plant peas, and you summon Mordekaiser?

Chen Yang took the bottle and examined it carefully.

The purple liquid in the bottle flowed slowly as if it were alive.

It's somewhat like the Z-type zombie serum... but not entirely. Chen Yang thought.

"Can you drink this?"

Huang Aotian muttered something under his breath, twirling the bottle in his hand, clearly hesitant.

Chen Yang's eyes darkened slightly, and he said in a low voice, "Don't rush."

He glanced around and saw that the other new converts had no hesitation; almost all of them had unhesitatingly uncorked the bottles and drunk the so-called holy water.

Some of those who drank the holy water stood quietly, expressionless.

Some people twitched slightly, as if they were enduring some kind of discomfort.

But what made the two hesitate was that several people knelt down on the ground, covered their heads with their hands, and let out low groans.

“There’s definitely something wrong with this holy water,” Huang Aotian said in a low voice, his tone tinged with tension.

Chen Yang did not respond. He raised his eyes and looked at the instructor on the altar, and found that the eyes hidden in the shadows were coldly scrutinizing the hundreds of believers below the stage.

Chen Yang, mingling among the crowd, had no intention of drinking the potion.

"Be careful not to give yourself away."

Chen Yang whispered a reminder to Huang Aotian, then uncorked the bottle, brought the bottle to his lips as if he was about to drink, but stopped at the last moment, only letting the liquid touch his lips.

Huang Aotian glanced at Chen Yang's actions, understood immediately, and quickly imitated him.

Squeezed among the Protestants, Chen Yang put down the bottle of medicine and felt a faint, almost imperceptible gaze upon him.

He subconsciously raised his eyes and met the coach's cold and stern gaze.

The other person's gaze was cold and sharp, as if trying to peel away his disguise layer by layer.

Chen Yang felt a chill run down his spine, his brow twitched almost imperceptibly, then he lowered his eyes as if nothing had happened and held the bottle in his palm.

Does this old man have such good eyesight?

His original intention in participating in the initiation ceremony was simply to see what the Corpse Cult was all about.

After all, it's a sect that could overthrow the Southern Military Region, so it must have a deep foundation. Why not infiltrate it and reap some benefits?

However, if he had to drink this potion of unknown origin to join the cult, he wouldn't mind turning against the Corpse Cult.

With three eighth-tier combatants at his disposal, he was fearless even if things got out of control.

The coach's gaze grew increasingly cold, clearly indicating that he had noticed Chen Yang's unusual behavior.

He waved his hand, summoning a cultist dressed in black robes, who seemed to be giving instructions. At that moment, a familiar figure strode forward.

It was the same old coach who had brought Chen Yang and the other person inside earlier.

As the old coach approached, he stood respectfully beside the other coach, leaned down slightly, and whispered something in his ear.

The coach's brow gradually relaxed as the old coach spoke.

Although he remained somewhat wary, he no longer kept a close eye on Chen Yang, clearly having temporarily set aside his suspicions.

Seeing this, Chen Yang breathed a sigh of relief.

The instructor on the high platform swept his gaze over the crowd, and seeing that the other new converts had already received the holy water, a satisfied smile appeared on his face.

He raised the scepter again, his voice low and deep:

"Holy water is the supreme gift of our Corpse Cult. It will cleanse your mortal bodies and allow you to truly integrate into our great cause."

“From today onwards, you will receive a bottle of holy water every day. After seven days, your bodies will undergo a transformation.”

Then, he slowly lowered the scepter, his eyes carrying a hint of unfathomable meaning:

"At that time, you will no longer be mortals, but true believers."

As soon as he finished speaking, the bonfire in the square suddenly burst into flames, illuminating the faces of every new convert.

In the eyes of newly converted believers, excitement and fervor flashed through their eyes.

Chen Yang lowered his head slightly, concealing his expression with his hood.

The coach waved his hand and announced in a grand voice:

"Today's ceremony is now concluded. May the glory of our Lord protect you."

He then turned and left the platform, and the members of the cult began to guide the new converts out of the room.

The ceremony had just ended, and Chen Yang was about to leave with the crowd when a cultist dressed in black robes suddenly appeared beside him and whispered, "The Ninth Master summons you two to the main building. Please follow me."

Chen Yang remained calm and nodded slightly, signaling Huang Aotian to follow.

Following the black-robed cultists out of the square, they soon arrived at a magnificent fortress.

The tallest building in the city is majestic and solemn, exuding a heavy and oppressive atmosphere.

Two armed cultists in black robes stood guard at the gate, their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods, only their cold eyes visible.

The cult leader raised his right hand, revealing a beautifully carved token with a faint, dark red glow on its surface.

Upon seeing the token, the two gatekeepers bowed slightly and then slowly pushed open the heavy door, gesturing for them to enter.

The moment the door opened, a blast of cold air rushed out.

The fortress was pitch black, without a single ray of light. Only the moonlight streaming through the windows managed to barely outline the building's shape.

As they stepped in, the stone path beneath their feet echoed faintly, as if it were an abyss that swallowed sound.

The guide led the believers around, turning left and right.

Finally, they were led to a dark and secluded corridor.

The corridor was lined with rows of doors, the paint on the walls had long since peeled off, revealing dark gray cement, and the air was filled with a musty smell.

"This must have been the rest area for officers of the Southern Military Region in the past."

Huang Aotian speculated in a low voice.

The cult leader stopped at the entrance of the corridor, turned around and said to them, "Room 509, don't go to the wrong room."

Having said that, he turned and left without another word, his figure quickly disappearing into the darkness.

Chen Yang and Huang Aotian exchanged a glance and continued walking down the corridor.

By the moonlight, they carefully identified the room number.

The journey was completely silent, with only the faint sound of shoes hitting the floor.

"507, 508..."

Huang Aotian counted in a low voice, his gaze finally landing on a door, "509, this is it."

This door was no different from the others in the room; the iron door was covered with the marks of time, solid and cold.

Chen Yang took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock on the door.

A deep, husky voice came from inside the door: "Come in."