Chapter Thirty-Two: The Ritual

Hearing this question, Madam Gao and the others were momentarily stunned. Murakami, the Japanese man with a dark expression, was even less polite, snapping, “Alexandra, were you kicked in the head by a donkey? Of course, we’re going to take the—” He pointed at the elevator, but suddenly faltered, as if a glitch had appeared in his mental process, leaving him at a loss.

“Wait, right. What were we supposed to do again?” Murakami, now as bewildered as Alexandra, made the others realize something was wrong.

“Alexandra, Murakami, what’s gotten into you two? The Dragonbone, something’s happened with the Dragonbone. We need to check it, do you understand?” someone pressed.

“I understand, of course I do. Yes, the Dragonbone, we need to look at the Dragonbone,” Alexandra nodded, but as she turned, her mind went completely blank. “But how do I check the Dragonbone? What was I supposed to do?”

The atmosphere instantly cooled as the five exchanged wary glances, recognizing the gravity of the situation.

“Something’s not right,” Murakami said.

Alexandra nodded, “Exactly. Something’s interfering with our thoughts, keeping us from reaching the Dragonbone.”

Murakami turned to the other three. “Gao, Botu, Sowanda, you three aren’t affected, are you? Try and see if you can break through this interference.”

The three nodded. Botu took the lead, “I’m not affected. You two just follow us. Let’s open the elevator and go down.”

Botu strode toward the elevator door, but as he reached out to press the button, he froze, just like the others, suddenly unable to remember what he was supposed to do.

Witnessing this, Madam Gao and Sowanda exchanged a look. “Elevator? Barrier magic?”

As elders of Kunlun, akin to Rodstaff, they were well aware that magic existed in this world. They also knew of the shielding spells cast by the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj—those mysterious magicians who, when wishing to remain unnoticed by ordinary people, would employ mirror dimensions or shielding magic to evade mortal eyes.

Under such spells, people subconsciously ignored the magically affected persons, events, or objects. Thus, though the three knew exactly what they needed to do, encountering the enchanted elevator made them forget their purpose.

The others understood this as well. The Muggle Repulsion Charm could make someone overlook the elevator, but it wouldn’t influence their thoughts. As long as they didn’t approach or attempt to use the elevator, the enchantment wouldn’t affect them.

The three’s expressions darkened. Alexandra said, “So, someone cast a shielding spell on the elevator? That means something really has happened to the Dragonbone.”

Botu’s face grew grim. “How could this be? Is Kamar-Taj intending to intervene?”

At the mention of Kamar-Taj, a flicker of fear crossed their faces—they clearly understood the terror associated with that place.

Alexandra quickly shook her head. “No, Kamar-Taj has its own rules. The Sorcerer Supreme protects Earth from incursions from other dimensions, yes, but she only deals with external threats and the mystic side’s dealings with demons.”

“Besides, the Hand’s enemy is Kunlun, which isn’t under Kamar-Taj’s jurisdiction. They won’t interfere.”

Hearing this, the others relaxed somewhat, though their expressions remained grim.

Madam Gao said, “Even if it isn’t a Kamar-Taj sorcerer, other magicians are no easier to handle. This shielding spell is beyond our means to dispel, isn’t it?”

At her words, the five fell silent.

Indeed, though they had lived for over four centuries and mastered the use of chi, their combat skills and destructive power were formidable. Yet, when confronted with matters of the mind and spirit, they were simply not equipped.

“Actually, it isn’t entirely impossible to resolve,” Sowanda spoke after a moment.

Hearing his implication, the others’ faces changed abruptly, and Botu’s expression grew cold.

“Sowanda, what are you suggesting? You want to use that ritual? Do you realize the consequences?”

The others said nothing, but their eyes conveyed the same sentiment as Botu’s.

Unfazed by their accusations, Sowanda replied solemnly, “Of course I know the consequences. But the situation is this: something’s wrong with the Dragonbone, some unknown sorcerer is eyeing it.”

“With this shielding spell, we can’t even get close to the Dragonbone. Four hundred years have passed, and we no longer have resources to prolong our lives or revive ourselves. If we lose the Dragonbone, we’re doomed.”

“Yes, after using the sacrificial ritual, if we die, our souls will be damned, becoming trophies for the beast in Hell.”

“But if we seize the Dragonbone and fully absorb its power, we’ll achieve immortality. As long as we live, our souls won’t fall to Hell. So, what difference does it make whether we use the ritual or not?”

“If we use it, there’s a sliver of hope. If not, we can only await death in silence. I’d rather take the risk.”

With that, Sowanda crossed his arms over his chest. “Let’s vote. I support using the ritual. What about you?”

After his speech, the others remained silent. Even Botu, previously the most vocal, merely moved his lips, but said nothing.

“If you don’t speak, I’ll take it as agreement. Alexandra?” Sowanda asked.

Seeing the others turn to her, Alexandra hesitated, then nodded.

“Alright, with Black Void absent, this is our only option. Follow me.”

She turned, walking into the conference room, approaching an inconspicuous flowerpot, and gave it a gentle twist.

A faint series of clicks sounded, revealing a sealed chamber.

In the chamber’s center stood a grotesque statue of a demon god, like an altar. Five burning braziers formed the points of a pentagram, arrayed around the circular altar.

Alexandra stepped to the central brazier first, the flickering flames casting shifting shadows across her face. She picked up an object beside the brazier, shaped like a demon’s finger, and glanced at the four who now stood before their respective braziers.

Alexandra couldn’t help but ask, “Once this ritual begins, there’s no turning back. Are you truly ready?”

“Enough talk. I’ll start,” Sowanda said, grabbing his demon finger and slicing his palm hard. Crimson blood dripped into the brazier, which instantly doubled in size, emitting a shrill howl—the lament of Hell itself.