Shadow of the Evil God

"The Earl's goal is to communicate with Analik and complete some kind of sacrificial ritual." Duanwu said, "Is that so?"

"He wants to gain something in return from Mother, and all he has to do is offer you up."

Although he really wanted to ask her what this reward meant, Duanwu suppressed his curiosity and forced himself to focus on what was happening in front of him.

He slowed his tone and asked, "The Earl's goal is to complete the ritual, but yours is not—you just need it to grow. Am I correct?"

"I'm still a newborn, - a newborn!" she said emphatically, repeating it for emphasis. "If I eat you, I can grow more. Although the Count has many rituals to attend to. Although he needs to communicate with more than just my mother. Although it will take some time for me to arrive. Although, although... but in short, I can still grow a little bit."

What did it mean to be busy with so many rituals? How many crazy gods had this earl communicated with, how many monstrous beings like her had he kept captive, and how many curses and rewards had he received from the will of these crazy gods? No, these things were still unimportant, unimportant. What mattered was that Duanwu was certain of one thing: the earl and she had no deep connection, like two long lines that intersected but never overlapped.

He just summoned this thing, but he didn't do more, at least not in time.

Duanwu believed that the Earl was a cultist who had taken a shortcut. He had signed the names of his victims against their will, forcing them to involuntarily complete the sacrificial ritual, while he stood by and coldly observed the results, taking the reward from the gods.

Duanwu was just one of his many unfortunate victims.

Similarly, the new life before my eyes

She was just one of the many inhuman creatures he had summoned. Perhaps this place was like a crazy zoo, holding only beings like her.

"Don't you think you've waited too long?" Duanwu paused and interrupted his statement to let the other party

Fang finally understood the meaning of this sentence. "That Count's desires are too many, his greed too great, and his demands for rewards are endless. You wait in this dark basement, waiting for him to finally take your turn after a series of lengthy rituals, only to have to wait even longer the next time."

"I don't mind waiting. I just curl up in the pool and let my thoughts wander." She expressed her sense of time and then leaned closer with a questioning look. "But now that you've said that, do you have any better suggestions?"

"It doesn't have to be him who does all this for you." Duanwu said, "I can do it too."

She studied him for a moment, his flawless face calmed by reflection. "That's true—it's true! The Count has so many options open to him, and he doesn't necessarily have to choose my side. But you can't. You're tied here, unable to go anywhere. So, you have no choice but to choose my side, is that right?"

Although he had no idea what the Tao was, Duanwu nodded in affirmation.

She blinked, placed a slender hand on his throat, and scratched his face with her sharp nails. Duanwu thought he smelled blood.

"Although I can ignore your opinion and eat you to complete the great sacrifice. However, matters of the Tao require your own consent," she said.

Duanwu realizes he might have agreed to something very troublesome. What exactly is the Dao? Is it the path of a cultist following a mad, evil god?

"I......"

"Then tell me, are you ready to be tortured? Do you really want to become the shadow of a god?" She asked in a childish voice. Because the girl's voice was cheerful and happy, the matter seemed even more cruel and bizarre.

"I don't know what you mean by torture," Danwu said, his throat pricking, "but it's definitely better than being sacrificed."

"Your name will be taken away from you, and you will no longer know who you are." She looked down at him with wide eyes. "I will read the scriptures to you in a way that you can understand, but are you really ready for this?"

"Yes......"

Duanwu agreed. His tongue was stiff, his voice hoarse, and the words came out as if he were forced into a mental struggle, giving up something significant. But to be honest, Duanwu didn't care at all about names, abstract symbols bestowed by others. He referred to himself by his online nickname much more often than by his real name.

If nothing was changed, he would faint on the spot and would no longer be able to make any suggestions.

"I will cut open your body, release your blood, let it be baptized, and then return it to your body." She lowered her voice, as if a ghost whispering in her ear, "Intense pain and pleasure will envelop your soul and body. You will yearn to open the wounds, yearn to hurt others, and yearn to gain pleasure from torture. The more you give, the more you will receive. Your senses and flesh and blood will rise endlessly, ignoring the constraints of the material world, until your blood is finally drained and your spirit is completely extinguished..."

For a while, Duanwu couldn't breathe. If he guessed correctly, this so-called path was a terrifying ritual that used extreme spiritual experiences to gain abilities in reality. It was inevitably accompanied by madness and mental madness, and would ultimately lead to the inevitable self-destruction.

Why can't things be simpler and more harmless? Why must everything in this world be shrouded in a veil of weirdness and strangeness? Why... perhaps there aren't so many whys, only acceptance and rejection.

"Come on," he said, "something has to be done."

She lowered her head and slowly leaned forward. Cracks appeared at the corners of her mouth and forehead, like a shattered white porcelain mask. Her slender limbs first bent backward, then stretched longer and longer, enveloping him from all directions. They clasped the back of his head, shrouding him in darkness.

Duanwu discovered that this time it was not just her face that was cracked. A crack appeared from her jaw to her abdominal cavity, gradually spreading to both sides and biting towards him, just like a huge mouth full of fangs.

It seems that the four statues in the dark room, which are more than three people tall, were modeled after her race.

Chapter III Special War Tax

......

When the ancestors designed the castle's reception room, their goal was to let sunlight in. Therefore, the hall was always bright and dazzling. No matter how much the earl hated the light, the morning light would still shine through the stained glass windows and into the hall under the vault, coating the marble columns and the tapestries hanging between them with a layer of mottled color.

Although the castle was warmer and more comfortable than any street or mansion in Upper Noyen, Thane did not feel comfortable. He stood by the window, gazing down at the forbidding courtyard below, feeling irritated, anxious, and disgusted, just as he always felt when he saw the king's tax collectors.

"How are the preparations for the human sacrifice under the castle going?" Sean asked the witch Corini, whom he had hired as a consultant. "After the human sacrifice, how are the preparations for the sacrificial offerings needed for the next stage going?"

"Your financial problems remain unresolved, Count." Corinne replied, her tone always slow and measured. "After your brother who was plotting the inheritance disappeared,

Before that, you'd better not think about selling the ancestral tapestry in the reception room and preparing the next stage of the sacrifice. However, I can assure you that the human sacrifice in the castle basement will go smoothly."

Sean became even more annoyed: "The sacrifices required by the scriptures are too much. If we don't sell part of our ancestral property, our wealth will be gone."

I can’t fill the political holes at all.”

"I understand, I understand." The pale, almost sickly-looking witch smiled at him, accompanied by the rustling of her silk robes. It was also a sickly smile. "But you must know, Lord Earl, the secular church calls the Uncreated God an alien god. Not only does it reject it, it also worships ancient spirits and demons as gods. If you want to avoid those false gods and contact the Uncreated God, you are destined to pay a great price."

Sean pursed his lips, trying to calm himself. The Uncreated God, without origin or creation, a God who has always existed and always will exist. When Sean first heard this, he thought someone was playing metaphysical word games with him.

But it is indeed true.

"Be patient, my Lord Earl," the witch continued, her tone slow and measured. "Once this human sacrifice is successfully completed, the newly born Faceless One will be able to serve you. You can make it take on the appearance of anyone in your memory, kill them, replace them, and then make it become them. The Faceless One is a very useful servant. It can do anything for you with the identity it has replaced, and it will be more like the original person than the original person was."

Is it a good thing to replace the humanity he knew with a monster that feeds on flesh and memories? Of course it is.

For as long as he could remember, Sean had been the core of his family, the hook that maintained the authority of this shabby castle. Yet, when Sean considered the mission his family had entrusted to him, he found it absurd. His ancestors had sacrificed so much for the kingdom, only to end up stationed on the frontier, paying taxes to support the extravagant lives of the capital's nobles.

Generations of his family had dedicated their lives to the so-called mission, filled with honor and loyalty, yet in his generation, they still showed no remorse, and even the servants of the family were proud of their sacrifices. These people were so ridiculous that they were not only willing to be a tool and sacrifice their insignificant lives, but also wanted him to do the same.

The thought of honor, loyalty, tradition, custom, so many empty words accumulated together, could actually trap so many generations for hundreds of years, making them willingly deceived into slavery. It struck him as absurd, as if they could not survive as naked people and had to put on an ornate dog chain to find their own value.

No matter how many dog ​​chains called honor you put on, they are just bones left over by the owner, and there is not even a few grains of meat left.

Historical traditions hang on these people like invisible puppet strings, determining what they do, say, and even think. In Thain's view, since these people are just puppets being fooled and manipulated, what's the big deal about replacing them with a monster in a different skin?

He cared for no one except his brothers and sisters who shared his quest for truth, and they were not worth even a spit, let alone a pity.

Thinking of this, Sean asked a more concerning question: "This skin-changing monster... This Faceless One has absorbed the memories of so many people. Is it still reliable? Can we still trust it?"

"That's just imitation. The Faceless don't truly understand the people they imitate, nor do they truly understand the memories they acquire," Corini said methodically. "They're just cruel, vicious animals, do you understand? Of course, they're also loyal and never complain, like a half-crazy dog. As long as you fulfill your promise and satisfy its hunger for the hunt, it will trust you, follow you, and regard you as its master."

"I'll look forward to it," Sean said gravely.

Corini nodded and said, "Now, let's discuss some more practical matters, Lord Earl. The kingdom's tax collectors are at the door. Have you figured out how to deal with this new round of special war taxes?"

Soon a servant's voice came from the door: "Come in, His Excellency Galeotto Bellet, the King's tax collector!"

The satisfaction he felt was fleeting. Sean watched as the family's servants led the guests into the hall. They were the tax collectors sent by the king. He had a kind smile on his face, but in his heart he just wanted to tie them up and let the skin-changing monsters under the castle eat them alive.

Over the past few years, the kingdom's war taxes have skyrocketed. If Thane had only focused on managing Noyen's finances, the money wouldn't have been a big deal, but he'd already spent too much on sacrificial offerings. Those hateful school mages were charging even higher prices than the most greedy merchants.

Blame it on the northern Kasar Empire...

Ten years had passed since the Beastmen, who had been slaves to Kasar for nearly a thousand years, rose in rebellion, severing the Emperor's head and hanging it at the city gate to dry in the sun. The Beastmen's call ignited the rage of oppression among every alien race within the Empire, and like kerosene, it spread to the confederation of their southern kingdoms.

Now, the Kasar Empire has collapsed and disintegrated. More than a dozen heirs of the emperor, backed by various vassal states, are fighting each other, determined to establish a true successor to the empire. The military strength of the Shattered Empire in the north has not been greatly damaged, but they are preoccupied with internal strife and have no time to liberate the imperial capital, let alone care for the exiled people.

The people of the empire could not rely on their own people, so they fled to the south in groups. They not only set up camp in the southern territory and asked for asylum,

He was often chased by hordes of foreign tribes. In Sean's view, those who escaped were just beggars and refugees, and those who chased him were just strange monsters and evil creatures.

The only value of those refugees

Even if they were used to cultivate farmland and fill gaps in factories and mines, the spirits in the remote areas were a motley crowd, easily dealt with by deploying local border troops. The Shattered Empire was like a quagmire, a swamp, trapping everyone there. Until the dust settled on Kasar, it was impossible for elite troops to move south.

But the higher-ups wanted to increase taxes on his side and replenish the military strength in the north. What could he do?

Who made him guard the grassland people on the southwestern border?

Sean felt a surge of irritation, and it only grew worse when he saw the tax collector feigning a handshake with the servants, expressing gratitude for their devotion to the frontier.

To them, the people of Noien were just fools who would be grateful for a few polite words.

Even dogs have to gnaw on bones, but they only have to drink cold wind.

While thinking, Thane saw his brother's child in the tax collector's entourage. Another one, Thane thought. He himself had no children, but his brother was a stud, with more heirs than even Emperor Kassar's illegitimate children.

He was a rather thin young man with blond hair. Although he had a beard, his thin lips beneath it suggested his less-than-noble bloodline. Despite this, the young man's rose-colored attire was still extravagant, allowing Sean to fully experience the extravagance of the people of the capital.

Every time tax collection came, his brothers would send different children to serve as entourage, as if to urge Sean, who had no heirs, to die of old age soon.

"I'm always happy to receive guests from afar," Sean said loudly, and the light tone in his polite words surprised even him. "Is everything all right in the north, Master Galeotto?"

"The north is doing well, but besides collecting taxes, I've also been ordered to investigate the situation in Upper Noyen, Count. Your brother accuses you of extravagance, embezzling military funds that are crucial to the safety of the kingdom, and even attempting to sell off your ancestral property to make up for the shortfall."

Sean almost ordered his men to hack these people to death and drag them out to feed the dogs.

The witch Corini whispered in his ear at the perfect moment, "I'll have someone keep an eye on the castle's basement, my Lord. You don't need to worry about things there personally. But please handle worldly matters yourself."

"Hurry up and complete the sacrifice, and get rid of that stranger who drifted here from the outer realm!" Sean stared at Corini. "When these people settle down, I'm going to use the Faceless One to replace the most crucial one... No, I'm going to replace his son!"

......

Today's ritual was to be performed by him. Although the reason was unknown, Baiyan was a servant of the Wild Witch Corini and had skinned countless people alive. This job was a piece of cake for him.

The thought of being able to do this again made Baiyan so excited that he almost pitched a tent. For someone like him, dealing with men or women was never different. Perhaps it was because they all had holes in them, and the feeling of poking them wasn't much different.

He weighed the sacrificial dagger in his hand, hung the ornament Corini had given him around his neck, and then slowed his pace as he walked through the corridors and around the basements filled with nightmares and ghosts. As long as he wore the amulet, he would not be a target. Corini had told him so.

Baiyan opened the stone door with the glowing key and walked into the sacrificial room, praying in his heart that the demon in the pool would not wake up. Regardless of whether that thing would cause trouble or not, the thought of it lurking beside him made it impossible for him to do his work.

The human, said to have drifted from the Outlands, was tied to a stone platform, four faceless statues looking down upon his emaciated form. Baiyan walked around the pond and stopped in front of the stone platform. He saw the man twisting back and forth, his movements subtle, wailing in pain as he twisted. The ropes rubbed his joints with scars.

He looked like a child having a nightmare, pitiful and humble. Seeing this wonderful scene, Baiyan was already excited and erect. Thinking that he looked a bit like a young Sean, with the same hair and eye color, Baiyan was even more eager to hear his screams.

Unfortunately, Corini's order today was urgent, and the eye roll had to be done quickly. He couldn't torture this half-dead guy for too long.

"Tonight, White Eyes, you will take his life at the last moment of the night."

As the witch's servant, he must not only strictly follow orders, but also make good use of every private time reserved for him.

Baiyan weighed the dagger. The silver blade reflected the pool's light, and its gleaming tip perfectly matched the throat of the man on the stone platform. He called out softly, and when he saw the man looking at him with slightly open eyelids, his glassy eyes shone with confusion, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pity.

This person didn't understand his language and couldn't communicate with him, so what he was going to do next would be much less fun.

Just as he unbuckled his belt and was about to have some fun, he heard the sound of water splashing in the pool, as if something was trying to come out of it.

He paused for a moment, then instinctively turned his head and stared at the dark, deep pool of water beside the stone platform. He saw ripples rising layer by layer, almost forming a whirlpool, and then a human who looked exactly like the offering on the stone platform emerged.

He felt no pain even though he was touching the sharp iron piece, and there was only childlike curiosity on his face.

This thing is pretending to be human again, it's incredibly perfect, except that it doesn't feel the pain that humans should feel.

At least it's not pretending to be me, Bai Yan thought, and couldn't help swallowing his saliva.

What then? Killing? Replacement?

He grasped the amulet his master had given him, tightening and unclenching his grip as if to confirm its presence and weight. Seeing the creature disguised as a human step forward, approaching him, he immediately raised his arm and raised the amulet toward it. He held his breath, praying that this thing would actually work.

Its cloudy black eyes met his white ones, and within a heartbeat, he felt an inexplicable fear. He didn't want to be replaced by a monster with a different skin!

Then it took a step back, keeping its distance from him.

Good, very good, what Corini said is true. Thinking of this, Baiyan smiled. As a servant of the witch and Corini's sword-bearing guard, he couldn't show such panic.

Baiyan turned back and raised his dagger towards the poor creature on the stone platform. To appease himself, he planned to make a hole in the poor creature and let some blood flow out.

But then something flashed. Even as his arm continued to thrust downward, his wrist, spurting blood, flew free of his body, and the gleaming silver dagger hurled itself from his fingers in mid-air, uncontrollably. White Eyes was stunned, unable to comprehend what had happened. Who had deceived him? Was it this cunning imitator, or did the witch want him dead?

He turned to face the monster in the pool. He saw that it still had a perfect human face and was pretending to look at him. He couldn't help feeling absurd and terrified, and could hardly move.

A hand with a piece of iron stuck in it but without any pain passed over his neck, without scratching his neck, but took off the amulet without any effect. It held the ornament in its hand and examined it carefully for a while, as if examining a silver coin.

Corinne was really lying to him.

"Open your disgusting face, monster!" White Eyes growled. His fear suddenly faded, as any warrior would react when facing imminent death. "Who wants me dead? Is it Corini? Or her new lover, the elderly Count?"

"I don't understand what you're saying," it said, wiping the blood from its face, leaving a smudge. "But I learned these few words from her just to tell you that this thing on your neck is really annoying her."

Suddenly, the ropes on the stone platform made a tearing sound. Something opened up, and huge shadows, like the long legs of a spider or the split branches of a tree, emerged from the darkness behind him. They entangled with each other, swaying and waving above his head, grasping at him...

He suddenly understood that Corini hadn't lied, and he had been deceived. The monster in front of him was actually a human, and the person behind him was actually the monster.

Tonight, Baiyan learned a lot of things, such as that people don't have to fear the evil that may replace them. When they regard something as an indisputable truth, it will appear in front of them in the opposite form and torture them to death.

But he no longer had the chance to learn from his failure.

Chapter 4: Drain His Blood

......

The feeling of losing one's name is very strange. It is not that the memory is erased, but that the cognition is changed. He, the man formerly known as Xu Duanwu, found that he had changed - a kind of irreversible change.

He felt unfamiliar with this name, although everyone had called him Duanwu for many years, but now, for some reason, he felt that he was... nothing to do with this name.

He could recall other people calling his name, traveling with others on field trips, arguing over academic disagreements, and even being physically intimate with his lover. However, these fragments of memory lacked any real feeling in him. They became abstract, like reading a line written by someone else in a book: while he could grasp the meaning, it didn't apply to him.

He could still call himself Duanwu, but there was no particular need for that. Even more so, there was no particular need to give himself a special name right then and there. But he still needed a name. So what should he be called?