Chapter 102: The Failed Sacrifice

Ji Li’s head spun more violently as he listened to the third persona’s account, a chill creeping through him.

The dizziness was rapidly overtaking his mind; the harder he tried to think, the faster he felt himself slipping toward unconsciousness.

But he knew he could not afford to pass out now.

As the third persona continued speaking, Ji Li abruptly interrupted, drawing a knife from his back.

He rolled up his pants and pressed the blade against the exposed skin of his right leg.

With force, the sharp edge cut a line across his skin. His eyes did not flinch.

He pressed further, then slid the knife down, carving a deep wound.

The bright red blood jolted his senses; the sting of the wound revitalized him.

His drowsy thoughts, stimulated by the fresh blood, surged with clarity once more.

Ji Li exhaled deeply, his eyes lighting up with renewed focus. Carefully, he wrapped the wound with a strip of gauze while asking:

“When did it start following us?”

The third persona, startled by Ji Li’s extreme method of staying conscious, replied: I’m not sure. It must be related to the room in the ghost bride portrait—after all, it is also a shadow.

Ji Li nodded, having roughly guessed the situation himself.

The third persona had not mentioned it before, likely because the shadow had been following him until it departed.

If so, the shadow itself was also a ghost.

Still, Ji Li found it hard to believe this was a third ghost.

This was a one-star hotel mission; even if it were a promotion task, there should not be so many ghosts.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t even know which one to capture.

In his mind, he leaned toward the shadow being the spirit-rain ghost—the very one obstructing the sacrifice.

That it took the form of a shadow fit with his previous speculation.

The ghost bride was the origin of everything.

Even if this ghost was preventing the sacrifice, it was still connected to the ghost bride.

It was now clear that the ghost wreaking havoc inside and outside the Li Mansion was this same ghost.

And the shop attendants would face this ghost.

The ghost bride’s situation was different.

If he thought carefully, Ji Li realized that from the moment he was lifted onto the bridal sedan to when he entered the painting and lost his arm, the ghost bride had never attacked him.

In both dangerous encounters, he had escaped unharmed.

The severed arm had been caused by the shadow on the wall. If the ghost bride had truly wanted to kill him, it would not have left a door for escape.

Originally, he had been torn over whether to intervene in the sacrifice, but now there was little choice left.

The ghost preventing the sacrifice was the one that killed.

As a shop attendant, he could only take a gamble: the ghost the hotel sought was this one.

And only Ji Li was in a position to make that gamble.

Of the six attendants, only he truly understood the ghost bride—the source ghost.

Tongguan and the others could not comprehend the origin of the two ghosts, but Ji Li could.

So he had the confidence to gamble; others did not.

With this in mind, Ji Li slowly stood, the knife wound in his leg insignificant to him.

He rose, the sleeve of his severed arm flapping in the wind, and looked toward the six disciples moving away.

“The sacrifice won’t be easy. Looks like I’d better join the fun.”

“Master, the portrait holds the method for restoration. Why don’t you try it yourself?” the female disciple sneered as she walked.

The middle-aged man smiled softly and explained, “Restoration is real, but it can only turn a living person into the ghost bride’s appearance. If you like, I can try it on you.”

“This… isn’t what the scroll said?”

“It’s the truth. How would I know otherwise?”

The disciples had only read the scroll’s instructions; they hadn’t expected such a result.

They exchanged glances, noting the man’s sinister smile, and realized: someone had already experimented.

Ji Li, trailing behind, heard it all clearly. Most of his earlier questions were answered.

No wonder the elderly woman, despite her age, had skin as fresh as a young girl and looked exactly like the ghost bride.

At the thought of that woman, Ji Li’s heart twitched involuntarily.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had overlooked some details—details about the elderly woman.

By all logic, she should have been an extremely important informant for this mission. So why had all the intelligence come only from the middle-aged man and Chen Fu?

Someone with the same appearance as the ghost bride, so closely tied to the entire sacrifice, yet so utterly lacking in presence?

Ji Li sensed something was off, but now was not the time to investigate.

They had climbed the steep slope, arriving at the tomb of the Li family patriarch from a different vantage point than Tongguan and the others.

The middle-aged man immediately spotted the remaining coffin on the hillside ahead.

Only one coffin lay there quietly. There was no blood around it, but scattered yellow papers and paper effigies littered the area.

His face darkened sharply. This indicated that the dual-plan he had devised with Chen Fu had failed on one side.

Now only his side remained. If he could not complete the sacrifice with the disciples, all prior preparations would be wasted.

He hesitated briefly, and as his expression changed, the others noticed.

The dark-skinned youth stepped forward awkwardly. “Looks like the sacrifice failed, huh?”

The middle-aged man glanced at him but said nothing.

The female disciple, however, sneered sharply: “The scroll is incomplete because you took the second half of the ritual method with you. How many slots are left now?”

The middle-aged man’s gaze flickered, as if deliberately avoiding the question, and he hurried toward the center of the grave site.

The other outsiders had already left the hillside, leaving only Ji Li trailing behind.

He pressed himself against the earth mound, committing their conversation to memory.

Watching their backs, he understood clearly that the disciples’ information was far inferior. The middle-aged man had come prepared—victory was practically guaranteed.

What followed would simply be him manipulating and controlling them.

At the same time, Ji Li’s eyes shifted to the coffin on the slope. From his position, he couldn’t tell it was open, nor could he see the eerie portrait exposed in the air.

But he could imagine Tongguan, Chen Fu, and their group had likely failed.

Whether they lived or died no longer mattered; his task was to remain there and uncover the method of sacrifice.

Ji Li could almost predict with certainty that the murderous ghost had not left.

After all, its purpose was to prevent the sacrifice.

Once it killed Chen Fu, it would come for them next.