A few minutes later.
Orum gripped his steel sword, his eyes warily fixed on the eerie gray house hidden behind several other buildings in the distance.
Beside him, Jenfer, whose face was now swollen like a pig's head, knelt in a row alongside three other boys sporting black eyes and bruised faces.
These thugs, who normally bullied and terrorized everyone around them, had their eyes transformed from fierce brutality back to clarity under the "educational guidance" of Orum and Ronald's "Newton's Three Laws."
Sure enough, fists made the best reform school.
"You're saying your husband is a cultist, and he's performing a sacrifice ritual inside that gray house with other cultists?" Even the well-traveled Ronald couldn't hide his surprise.
"That's right, sir adventurer! Virgil, he... he was seduced by those evil god worshippers! I, I had no choice but to help him.
Please, I'm begging you, arrest him and spare me!" Jenfer pleaded tearfully, her words tumbling out incoherently. In her swollen eyes, which could barely open, burned a desperate will to survive.
Ronald didn't respond to Jenfer's pleas. He knew full well that the Kingdom's crackdown on cult organizations was always brutal. Every year, thousands were sent to the gallows or burned at the stake for such crimes.
A criminal as guilty as Jenfer had no room for mercy under Kingdom law. She was as good as dead.
Ronald changed the subject, continuing to extract more critical information.
Soon, he successfully pried important intelligence from the terrified Jenfer.
The cult organization Jenfer's husband Virgil had joined was a secret society. She didn't know its name.
However, Jenfer had overheard the cultists refer to their deity as the "Black Monarch" multiple times in their conversations.
Ronald immediately recognized this title. It pointed to a notorious evil deity: one of the Dead Three, the God of Tyranny, Bane.
Bane was lawful evil, with divine portfolios including tyranny, fear, strife, and hatred.
Unlike the other two members of the Dead Three, Bhaal the God of Murder and Myrkul the God of the Dead, Bane pursued absolute supremacy.
He sought to dominate the entire world through harsh order and totalitarian rule.
Within Bane's church existed an extremely rigid hierarchy. Any questioning of superiors was considered blasphemy against the deity and would be met with severe, cruel punishment.
Among the cult organizations formed by Bane's followers, the most infamous was the Zhentarim, a massive organization of over ten thousand members who secretly controlled the economic trade of the northern continent through sinister means like assassination, surveillance, and blackmail.
Cult organizations, like monsters, were targets for adventurer extermination. But the former were often more sinister and cunning, adept at using all manner of traps, deadly poisons, and even lethal curse spells that caught adventurers off guard.
At the same time, cult organizations would also manipulate civilians, turning entire villages or even town populations into fanatics, or directly transforming them into sacrificial offerings, causing irreparable harm.
"So these cultists are hard to deal with?" Hearing Ronald's explanation, Orum frowned, a trace of worry appearing in his heart.
Ronald shook his head.
"No. Based on the intel these people provided, there isn't a single professional among the cultists hiding in the Grass Lodge Inn. This doesn't match the Zhentarim's usual style."
"So more likely, these cultists are some wild cult of unknown origin. They're not strong and should be easy to eliminate."
Ronald spoke decisively.
"I'll head back now and report this intel to the team leader.
Then we'll all come together to wipe out the cultists in the gray house. Orum, you stay near the gray house and prevent them from discovering Jenfer's been captured and escaping."
"Got it."
Orum answered crisply. He handed the rope binding Jenfer and the others to Ronald, then stealthily made his way to a high hill behind the gray house. From this elevated position, he could closely monitor any movement inside.
...
Twenty minutes later, three more figures appeared on the small hill: Felix, Raygore, and Ronald, who had rushed over.
Earlier, Ronald had brought five people, including Mia, out of the Grass Lodge Inn's front door. He then ordered the three boys with broken legs to get lost and stay away from the inn.
After reporting to Felix, they took advantage of the fact that Raygore had a friend who conveniently ran an inn just outside town.
They first sent Mia and Jenfer to that inn, asking the friend to look after Mia and keep a strict watch on Jenfer.
The carriage was also stored in the inn's stable. Only after handling these matters did the three return on foot to the Grass Lodge Inn, the entire process taking about twenty minutes.
During those twenty minutes, Orum had been secretly observing the gray house. From start to finish, there had been no movement inside. The silence was almost eerie.
Felix stood steadily on the small hill, his gaze falling with interest on the sinister gray house below.
A breeze swept through his brilliant golden hair, making it roll like flowing waves.
"Cultists, huh?" Felix murmured softly.
Then Felix turned to Orum, Raygore, and Ronald, briefly explaining his battle plan:
"It's too dangerous to barge directly into an unfamiliar building. Our strategy is to force them out from inside, then pick them off one by one!"
The entrance to the gray house was a heavy wooden door, currently locked from the inside with a bolt, leaving only a small observation hole in the center.
At that moment, a bloodshot eye was pressed against the observation hole, peering outside.
"How could Jenfer take so long just to grab one little girl?"
Accompanied by the sound of fingernails scratching skin vigorously, a hoarse voice spoke up. Its tone shifted from complaint to sudden madness:
"I should've just used Jenfer as a sacrifice!"
"Shut your damn mouth, Peter! Or Virgil will personally cut out your tongue!" Another sinister voice immediately retorted.
"Hmph, am I afraid of him..." Accompanied by more agitated scratching sounds, the voice gradually lowered.
"If it weren't for the Black Monarch above, granting us the Truth Tablet and commanding us to perform the wealth ritual, I wouldn't stay in this shithole of Virgil's house."
"Shh, someone's coming... four adventurers!"
The bloodshot eye trembled violently, the pupil contracting sharply!
The cultist guarding the door suddenly saw four people appear directly in front of the gray house!
Among them, a golden-haired youth with the bearing of a young nobleman suddenly shot out a flurry of ice-blue spikes from his hand!
First-level spell: Ice Knife!
"Whoosh!"
The spike rapidly enlarged in the cultist's vision, accompanied by the sound of tearing air.
Without deviation, it sliced through the air, drilling precisely through the observation hole in the wooden door, piercing into his eye socket before exploding violently inside his skull!
"BOOM!"
With a tremendous crash, massive ice mist exploded instantly.
The cultist's body was torn into pieces in an instant. Internal organs, flesh, and bones covered in crystalline frost scattered in all directions like flowers raining from heaven, a horrifying sight.
"Shit! What happened?! We're under attack?!"
"Adventurers are here! They've got a spellcaster!"
"Quick! Get the desecration talismans ready. Use them to kill them!"
In the darkness, the panicked cultists stumbled about in the cramped space, fearfully trampling on the blood-soaked spleen on the floor.
A cultist wielding a pitch-black dagger finally rushed to the door, desperately trying to pull it open, only to feel a bone-chilling cold instantly shoot up from his palm, penetrating to the marrow.
He looked closely and was horrified to discover that the heavy wooden door had been completely frozen over by a smooth layer of ice at least five centimeters thick!
Just then, several black spheres were thrown in through the high windows of the gray house, one after another!
As soon as these spheres hit the ground, they violently spewed forth choking smoke.
Dense smoke with a strong sulfurous smell instantly spread, rushing into their airways. Their eyes stung painfully, tears streaming uncontrollably!
Smoke bombs!
In the blink of an eye, cultists who were too close collapsed to the ground, overcome by the acrid smoke!
"Ahhhhhhh!"
The cultist at the door, eyes bloodshot and half-crazed, gripped his dagger tightly and desperately chiseled at the ice!
There was only one entrance and exit to the gray house: the frozen heavy wooden door before him!
If they couldn't break through the door, all the cultists would be trapped inside and die!
Fortunately, the ice created by Ice Knife wasn't like the Ice Wall spell, which could create barriers up to ten feet thick.
Combined with the melting effect of the summer heat, the ice quickly melted and was chiseled through by the dagger.
"Peter, get the hell out there! Draw their attention so I can release the desecration rune!"
The cultist yanked the door open and roughly shoved Peter forward. Then, without hesitation, he raised the pitch-black dagger and viciously stabbed it into his own arm. Bright red blood immediately gushed out!
In the pitch-black rolling smoke where you couldn't see your hand in front of your face, he began to chant the prayer with all his might:
"Great Black Monarch! Let fear flood their veins! Let despair silence their screams!"
A cunning thought arose in the cultist's heart. He lingered in the rolling black smoke for a few seconds, waiting for the power of the desecration rune to fully activate.
This way, the moment the cultist laid eyes on the adventurers, the desecrating magic would immediately explode and claim their lives!
He believed nothing could be faster than sight!
The next instant, Peter's scream rang out before him!
"Ahh!"
This is it!
"Die!"
Under the black hood, the cultist's eyes bled, his throat emitting beast-like growls.
At this moment, black violent magic ran rampant through his body, tearing at his internal organs, causing internal bleeding and pushing his body to the brink of collapse!
This was the price of using the desecration rune. Each activation was a tremendous assault on a mortal body of flesh and blood!
The cultist suddenly stepped forward. The moment he emerged from the dense smoke, he saw Peter's headless corpse kneeling on the ground, a thick column of blood gushing like a fountain from his neck cavity!
He forced down the discomfort in his stomach and raised his gaze forward.
A swordsman held a steel sword covered in fresh blood, his entire being radiating intense killing intent, like an oncoming sea of corpses and blood that was almost suffocating.
So what?! As long as he successfully activated the desecration rune, he could instantly kill the swordsman before him!
This was the last thought that flashed through his mind.
Because the next instant, the swordsman's figure appeared before him as if teleporting, seeming to skip the process entirely. A sword thrust out, piercing through the cultist's skull.
Combat Technique: Thrust!
The speed of this sword was unimaginable, even faster than the lifting of eyes. Before a fleeting thought could settle, the fatal sword had already struck!
Orum watched as the corpse before him, skull pierced through, collapsed weakly to the ground.
Without hesitation, he raised his steel sword and viciously stabbed it into the cultist's chest, thoroughly destroying the heart to ensure the enemy was completely dead.
"These cultists actually possess desecration runes?" Felix's gaze fell on the pitch-black dagger that had dropped beside the cultist's corpse, his voice carrying a trace of surprise.
Orum turned to glance at the gray house. He saw thick smoke billowing from the doorway. The cultists who had been fumbled senseless were like a game of whack-a-mole: as soon as one showed his head, Raygore would flatten him with one sword strike, dispatching them all.
Just as Ronald had said, these cultists were nothing but small fry, not worth mentioning.
The tension of battle suddenly eased. Orum turned to Felix and asked curiously:
"What's a desecration rune?"
"Desecration runes are magical items that cultists obtain by performing sacrifices and making deals with powerful dark entities," Felix explained. "They don't require spellcasting ability. You just need to recite the desecration prayer to trigger the magical effect."
Felix put on a pair of white silk gloves and carefully picked up the pitch-black dagger, solemnly placing it inside a tightly sealed wooden box.
"Every desecration rune has high research value," he added.
Seeing the puzzled expression still on Orum's face, Felix switched to a more direct explanation:
"This pitch-black dagger can sell for 300 gold coins."
"Oh, got it. That's equivalent to a house in Blackwater Town." Orum suddenly understood.
"It's actually worth that much?" Orum was filled with amazement, his eyes instantly lighting up.
He turned to look again at the smoke-filled gray house.
Who would've thought these cultists would be so loaded!
Half an hour passed, and the gray house fell silent.
After the smoke cleared, Orum and Raygore entered the chaotic gray house and systematically finished off the cultists who had been knocked out or killed by the smoke, one by one, eliminating any future trouble.
There were fewer than fifteen cultists in total. Most wore black hoods with only two holes left in front for observing the outside.
The gray house was divided into three areas.
The first was a storage room near the entrance, filled with various household items, now covered in exploded body parts, a bloody mess of carnage.
The second area was a blood-soaked workbench like a slaughterhouse. Nauseating organs were displayed like items in a market.
Various dissection tools were stained with blackened, congealed blood, silently testifying to the atrocities that had occurred here.
Mia's father was scattered throughout this place.
The third area was the altar itself: an irregularly shaped black stone platform.
The platform stood about fifty centimeters high, with a surface area of less than three square meters.
At the center of the altar was embedded a black clenched iron fist, the emblem of the God of Tyranny, Bane.
Around the altar were many bloodstains of varying depths. According to Jenfer, this ritual process was lengthy and required multiple stages.
Mia's father had experienced the second-to-last stage, while Mia had been chosen as the sacrifice for the final stage.
Directly in front of the altar stood a blood-stained heavy stone tablet inscribed not with common language but with ancient text.
This was probably the "Truth Tablet" Jenfer had mentioned.
All the rituals Virgil and this group of cultists had been performing were strictly based on the records inscribed on this tablet, not daring to deviate in the slightest.
His gaze quickly swept over the tablet. Orum couldn't help but freeze for a moment.
Because behind the tablet, right next to the altar, there was actually a chair.
A brown-haired man sat with his back to Orum, his body stiffly reclined in the chair, completely motionless.
This pale-faced middle-aged man's appearance completely matched Jenfer's description. This was clearly the male owner of the Grass Lodge Inn, Virgil.
Orum, steel sword in hand, silently approached a few steps and noticed that Virgil's chest showed no rise or fall.
Virgil was dead, likely from smoke inhalation. This inn owner who had craved endless wealth and plotted evil rituals had quietly ended his sinful life just like that.
The four members of Ice Hawk spent an hour searching the gray house for valuable items and collecting all the cultists' corpses.
To Orum's disappointment, these cultists were far poorer than he'd imagined.
Apart from some silver coins, they only had a few worthless silver items. No matter how thoroughly they searched, they couldn't find a second "desecration rune."
"These ignorant cultists actually waved around a treasure worth 300 gold coins so carelessly. What a waste!"
"Truly a bunch of lunatics!"
Orum felt heartbroken by such behavior.
From that moment on, he firmly resolved that if he ever encountered cultists again, he absolutely couldn't let any escape. This was a golden opportunity for loot drops!
With a trace of regret, Orum stood up from the last cultist corpse.
Turning around, he saw Ronald, Felix, and Raygore all gathered in front of that blood-stained heavy stone tablet.
Ronald's expression showed surprise, as if he'd made some remarkable discovery.
Seeing Orum approach, Felix reminded him seriously:
"Orum, stay alert. Ronald has discovered something."
"This ritual is still ongoing!"
"The ritual hasn't stopped? Haven't all the cultists been killed?" Orum was startled and asked in confusion.
Ronald crouched in front of the tablet, his expression grave.
"No... quite the opposite. According to what's recorded on the tablet, the cultists' deaths didn't end the ritual. Instead, they perfectly fulfilled the final part of it."
"Because the death toll far exceeded the ritual's original requirement, this sudden 'sacrifice' allowed the ritual subject to even skip the originally required specific actions and prayers, forcibly completing itself."
"Now, all I need to do is drop a single drop of blood into the silver chalice, and the ritual will be completely finished."
"You mean... we can use this ritual to make a deal with the evil god and obtain endless wealth?" Orum asked tentatively.
After all, Jenfer had explicitly mentioned that once the ritual on the "Truth Tablet" was completed, the deity known as the "Black Monarch" would grant millions of gold coins, making all participants wealthy beyond measure.
However, Orum wasn't one of those stupid cultist fanatics.
He clearly understood that after making a deal with an evil god, you would inevitably pay the price of having your soul corrupted, ultimately being transformed into an evil-aligned madman.
"No, these cultists were all deceived," Ronald shook his head.
"This isn't a 'Truth Tablet' at all. The ritual content on it is completely false.
The endpoint of the ritual won't grant gold coins but will summon a raging minotaur that will burn everything in the vicinity to ashes!"
"It's fake?" Orum looked at the ancient tablet in surprise.
"This text on the tablet must be at least a thousand years old, right? Why would ancient people from a thousand years ago set up this kind of hoax?"
"I don't know either."
Ronald was also puzzled. The tablet's owner was clearly a powerful being, intimately familiar with the complex connections between deities and the infernal realms, who had meticulously designed a unique ritual.
But why would such a person, possessing such profound knowledge and power, deliberately leave behind such a misleading tablet? Could it merely be a malicious prank?
"This should be the work of the 'Absurd Poetry Society.'" Felix, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke, his voice calm:
"The Absurd Poetry Society is a secret organization composed entirely of high elves.
They enjoy leaving various false treasure information and fabricated legends throughout the world, luring adventurers to explore, only for these adventurers to come away empty-handed or even fall into monster lairs."
"To set up a prank-like massive hoax, the Absurd Poetry Society is willing to spend a thousand years to achieve their goal."
"A thousand years? Even high elves don't have that long a lifespan, do they?" Ronald, hearing such unknown secrets for the first time, couldn't help but widen his eyes.
Felix, in his calm voice, dropped an even more shocking secret: "Because... every elf member of the Absurd Poetry Society is immortal. Their lifespans are far more than ten thousand years."
"Perhaps it's precisely because these immortals have lived such boring lives that they're willing to spend hundreds or thousands of years just to complete an elaborately planned hoax."
Finally, Felix solemnly warned: "All of this is classified Kingdom information. You must not speak of it to outsiders."
"Understood." The three of them nodded, indicating their comprehension.
Felix then questioned Ronald in detail about various aspects of the ritual.
"Ronald, how much longer before the spiritual essence contained within this ritual completely dissipates?"
Felix looked at Ronald and continued to press: "You're certain this ritual will ultimately summon a juvenile minotaur, right?"
"About three days... you mean?" Ronald caught on, his heartbeat suddenly accelerating.
"Exactly. This location backs up to Blackwater Town. Any supplies can be conveniently provided. We have enough time to construct traps in advance."
"There couldn't be a better opportunity than this!"
Felix's eyes gleamed with excitement as he decisively announced:
"Over the next three days, we must make thorough preparations. Then, right here, we'll hunt the summoned minotaur!"
"This is..." Hearing this plan, Orum froze.
An idiom involuntarily surfaced in his mind: "Waiting by the stump for a rabbit?"