The Weird Altar

Good Stuff?

Wang Ye looked at Mao Yong’an, somewhat excited.

Although this guy usually seemed a little unreliable, when it came to finding treasures, he was still very diligent.

He had even dared to go to places like 404, and had actually collected a bag of good stuff.

So Wang Ye instantly believed Mao Yong’an’s words.

Although he had felt bad about taking the previous things by force, now... There seemed to be an old saying, "Finders keepers!"

By this time, the number of surrounding ghosts had become fewer and fewer, and the remaining few continued to bellow angrily, their stomachs swollen to exaggerated proportions.

Finally...

Several ghosts bellowed as they tangled together.

On the compass, the needle finally stopped spinning, pointing to a location.

Mao Yong’an’s eyes lit up as he put away the compass, but the next second, Wang Ye had already shot out like an arrow from a bow, leaving Mao Yong’an far behind.

Damn you, Wang Ye!

Mao Yong’an angrily cursed as he took out several origami cranes from his backpack.

The material was not paper, but some kind of leather.

The origami cranes flew around continuously in the air, then steadily grasped Mao Yong’an's shoulders and lifted him into the air, chasing after Wang Ye.

As he went deeper into the location, Wang Ye clearly felt a faint fluctuation of energy in the air.

Not far away, in the most secluded corner, there was an isolated small hut.

Seeing Mao Yong’an’s figure approaching in the distance, Wang Ye kicked the door.

The door shattered into pieces.

A pungent bloody smell came from inside.

Bodies covered the floor, their flesh gone, leaving only skeletons behind.

A bald old man was trembling as he held a skinning knife, continuously scraping pieces of flesh off his own legs.

In front of the old man was an altar.

In the center of the altar sat a carved figurine with a cunning smile on its face. Its swollen belly and slightly opened mouth awaited the old man's offering of another trembling piece of his own flesh.

By now, all that remained of the old man's legs were bones.

Wang Ye's expression instantly became solemn.

It wasn't because of the old man, but rather the fat-bellied figurine draped in a blood-red monk's robe!

It was related to the Buddhists!

Wang Ye judged in an instant.

At the same time, Mao Yong’an rushed breathlessly into the room.

The origami cranes flew into his black backpack.

Standing beside Wang Ye and seeing this scene, Mao Yong'an's pupils suddenly contracted: It's this damned thing!

As he spoke, Mao Yong’an’s eyes shifted slightly, and he turned to leave.

The door closed on its own, blocking Mao Yong’an inside.

The old man slowly turned around to look at Wang Ye and Mao Yong’an, a hint of gentleness on his face.

My children, help this old monk.

The old man said kindly while still holding the dripping skinning knife.

On the floor, countless twisted skeletons stood up eerily, surrounding Wang Ye and Mao Yong’an in the middle.

Wang Ye's face was icy as he said flatly to the old man: Master, why don't I help you pass on today?

As he spoke, without giving the old man time to react, Wang Ye made his move.

Leaping over countless skeletons, Wang Ye reached the old man in the blink of an eye. Drawing out his ghost knife, he slashed fiercely at the old man's neck, slicing through the air.

The old man's smile didn't change, as if he hadn't seen Wang Ye at all. He continued gently scraping the remaining bits of flesh off his legs with the skinning knife.

Wang Ye felt a sudden pain shooting through his leg in the same spot, as the skin there violently ruptured.

Blood instantly gushed out.

Not far away, Mao Yong’an also cried out in pain, clutching his leg as he yelled, "Wang, we can't mess with this guy. Think of a way for us to get out of here!"

Thanks to his powerful physique, Wang Ye’s leg wound slowly started to heal.

The old man carefully picked up the strip of flesh he had just scraped off and fed it into the figurine's mouth.

Though it was just a statue, its mouth moved eerily, continuously chewing.

To devote oneself to the Buddha is our glory.

The old man's voice was full of piety. As his words rang out, an uncontrollable thought arose in Wang Ye's mind.

Offer your body to this figurine!!!

But in just an instant, Wang Ye regained his composure. Looking coldly at the old man, he snorted, "What business do I have with Buddha!"

With that, he shattered the skeletons crowded around him and slashed at the old man again with his knife.

The old man sighed serenely, raising the skinning knife to his left hand and scraping off a bloody strip of flesh.

In the same spot on Wang Ye's hand, blood misted again.

But this time Wang Ye's expression didn't change at all. Enduring the intense pain in his arm, he slashed at the old man's neck.

Clang!

It was like hitting steel, making a clear, crisp sound.

There was only a faint white mark on the old man's neck, not even a wound.

Oh oh, put down your blade, and attain instant enlightenment.

The old man kept feeding the figurine as he chuckled.

Wang Ye took a deep breath and cautiously retreated two steps, staring intently at the old man: How about you put down your knife first, and I'll put down mine?

My disciple, you are still attached.

The old man sighed, and said no more as he turned his knife on his own arm again.

Wang Ye grunted as he stumbled back two steps, his face slightly pale.

This bizarre skinning knife didn't just injure him. As it moved up and down, he vaguely sensed his vitality draining away.

Not far away, Mao Yong'an seemed rather anxious: Wang Ye, this old freak is too strong. We definitely can't handle him. And you have no idea how terrifying that Buddha statue is. We're in big trouble!

I can immobilize the old bastard for 3 seconds. Head for the door then—it's our only chance to escape!

Mao Yong'an spoke rapidly as he clutched his continuously bleeding hand.

Wang Ye glanced at Mao Yong'an and was silent for a moment.

As the old man raised his knife again, Wang Ye nodded: Alright!

Mao Yong'an took a deep breath and pulled out a mirror from his pocket. Oddly, the mirror was coated with a layer of black paint.

Now!

Mao Yong'an yelled as he vigorously rubbed off some of the paint, exposing the mirror surface.

Red light flashed from the surface, shining on the old man.

The old man's body instantly froze in place.

At the same time... Wang Ye charged at the old man.

Moving in sync with him was Mao Yong'an.

Still holding up the mirror, he showed no intention of leaving. Instead he rushed at the old man alongside Wang Ye.

Mao Yong'an gave Wang Ye an odd look and angrily cursed, "Damn you, Wang Ye!"

Then he added unwillingly, "We're splitting this treasure 50/50!"

Wang Ye glanced coolly at Mao Yong'an and gave a soft snort, speeding up his pace.