Chapter 2213 - 1192: _4

He knew well that tonight’s so-called "opportunity" was most likely related to those mysterious figures.

Initially, Yang Xiao thought he would enter with these people, but upon reaching the building’s entrance, these strange lama-like individuals automatically formed two rows, one on the left and one on the right, positioned on both sides of the building, then sat down cross-legged.

The leading Grand Temple Master emotionlessly raised a hand to gesture at Yang Xiao, inviting him to walk into the building alone.

Though feeling a bit anxious, Yang Xiao mustered the courage, lifted the curtain used for covering, and walked inside.

Only after entering did he realize the curtain’s material was peculiar, the texture felt unique, seemingly made of some kind of skin.

Having come into contact with similar things in the hands of those beasts from the Withered Bone Pavilion, he immediately recognized the curtain was made of human skin.

Sewing a complete piece of skin this large wouldn’t be possible without four or five adults.

This instantly reminded Yang Xiao of the Black Lamas from Tibet, who also favored such practices, crafting many magic artifacts from human skulls, arm bones, thigh bones, or organs such as human skin, greatly diminishing their karmic merits.

Upon entering, Yang Xiao’s first impression was the place was much larger than before, at least twice as large.

Moreover, it was deeper and darker; this time, there were fewer light sources, only one candle held by the Martyr.

No, it wasn’t a candle, but rather a strangely shaped long-handled oil lamp, crudely made, like molded from clay.

Yet, eerily, although there was only this one dim oil lamp, Yang Xiao could see the path ahead clearly, as if something in the darkness was guiding him.

Yang Xiao walked step by step beside the Martyr hidden in the depth of darkness, quickly feeling an invisible pressure, akin to descending into an abyss, plunging into an infinitely dark underwater world.

His senses and consciousness were being stripped away, stripped out from his shell, a feeling Yang Xiao had never experienced.

Confused and dazed, he arrived beside the Martyr, who still wore an indifferent expression, looking down at him with a gaze like a deity overlooking mankind.

Under this gaze, Yang Xiao felt as if his soul was being pierced through, instinctively wanting to resist but knew it was pointless; the opponent’s strength was beyond what he could counter.

Elder Sheng was right, this Martyr was far more powerful than both Nalin Commander and Elder Sheng.

With the Martyr extending a hand as dry as old tree bark, Yang Xiao immediately understood the gesture, handing over the painted black skin, which belonged to the Painted Woman.

With one hand grasping the painted black skin, the Martyr retrieved a book from his bosom, its ancient texture appearing ever more solemn and weighty in such an eerie environment.

In the next moment, Yang Xiao, as if sensing something, shuddered fiercely.

The Martyr held the painted black skin with one hand while retrieving the book with the other, yet how were they holding the oil lamp molded from clay soil?!

Whose hand was it?!

But the real horror was yet to come, Yang Xiao clearly knew there was something terribly wrong with the Martyr having three hands, yet no matter how he looked, he couldn’t discern the issue.

He couldn’t even distinguish the left and right hand of the opponent.

A strong sense of fragmentation enveloped him, seemingly deconstructing his still somewhat normal worldview, making him increasingly feel that the Martyr was normal, while the abnormal was himself.

In the unseen, a force seemed to be eroding him, reshaping his perception of this world, and the Martyr’s lips began to tremble, an obscure and incomprehensible ancient Burmese Thai language stormed his spirit.

In Yang Xiao’s mind, chaotic and complex illusions emerged, with no logic or clue, while the Martyr’s lip movements didn’t match the sounds emanating, as if an incomprehensible abnormal presence had occupied the Martyr’s body, speaking through his mouth.

At this moment, Yang Xiao began to fear, a fear etched vividly into memory, for he suddenly remembered the Martyr’s role within the Esoteric Sect was to communicate with the Holy Temple Spirit of the sect.

"Possessing him is the Holy Teaching Spirit of the Esoteric Sect!!"

Yang Xiao had once considered this to be merely a legend, after all, tales like these could be recounted by any ordinary person.

But he had forgotten, this was indeed the Esoteric Sect, these people were extremely cruel, yet equally devout, not ones to bow before a fictitious deity.

The so-called Holy Temple Spirit genuinely existed here, within the Martyr’s body, it... it had awakened!

A resentful spirit!

Suddenly, Yang Xiao realized the Martyr housed a resentful spirit within, and it was a very high-rank and formidable one, having set its eyes on him.

Meanwhile, Yang Xiao’s mind was in turmoil, catching glimpses of inexplicable scenes at the corner of his eye.

On his left, right, and rear suddenly appeared individuals, all unnaturally bloated and seated cross-legged, unmoving.

These were the things he had seen last night, yet peculiarly, when he approached the Martyr earlier, not a single silhouette was seen, where had these emerged from, or were they residing within some unknown space, indicating he was no longer within that building.

Attempting to turn his head for better clarity was futile for Yang Xiao, as his mind descended into complete disarray, maintaining composure only through sheer stubborn willpower.

Nevertheless, willpower had its limits, Yang Xiao realized he couldn’t hold out much longer.

His only hope for breaking free now was "Good Sister," yet at this moment, he was suppressed heavily by the opponent; even discounting the resentful spirit, just confronting the Martyr alone was beyond his capability.

Even if "Good Sister" took over the body, it might still be ineffective, as their disparity in strength was vast.

Moreover, the opponent wouldn’t offer such an opportunity.

As Yang Xiao’s consciousness nearly disintegrated, the Martyr abruptly raised both hands slowly, reaching forward, seemingly searching for something, and Yang Xiao also involuntarily lifted his hand, extending it forward.

Following this, a chilling scene unfolded; Yang Xiao seemingly touched something out of thin air, which he couldn’t describe, chilly and slightly soft, like... like a corpse.

With wide-open eyes, Yang Xiao sought to view what lay before him, but found only emptiness occupied by the Martyr, ensuring his hands hadn’t touched the Martyr, of that he was sure.

Upon both hands making contact with the corpse, in the next second, it was as if something cleaved his mind open, amidst an odd yellow arc-light, a familiar sound echoed.

It was himself, possibly being besieged by enemies, formidable ones; blood drenched his figure, clutching a ring-headed saber, missing an ear, with a gaping wound carved across his cheek bleeding profusely, clothing shredded revealing the Hundred Demons Coffin Clothes buried within.

After dodging a sneak attack, "his" form blurred, reappearing with a hand grabbing the assailant.

In the next instant, Yang Xiao’s eyes widened, witnessing something unimaginable, seeing himself clasping the individual’s head with a blackened hand, as the opponent struggled desperately, and with the emergence of strange energy waves, the captive seemed to react wildly, body convulsing furiously, simultaneously deflating like a punctured balloon.

In contrast, witnessing "himself," injuries rapidly healed, starting from savage knife wounds, until the sliced-off half-ear regrew.

With the drained corpse discarded, he again grasped his saber and advanced heroically.