My bloodline yearns for progress.

Chapter 117 The Ceremony (Second Update, Please Subscribe)

Accompanied by the man's deep, fervent declaration, a brand new withered spirit slowly emerged from beneath the ground.

This withered wood spirit was completely different from the previous one of its kind. Every branch of it was a chilling scarlet color, as if it had been cast from congealed blood.

The twisted branches creaked and groaned in the cold wind, like countless withered claws silently scratching at the air, exuding a strong sense of foreboding.

The prompt from the Magic Ape appeared in Otto's mind almost the instant the Crimson Wood Spirit appeared, coldly and accurately analyzing the anomaly before him.

Otto quickly realized the true nature of the sneak attack. The opponent had obviously taken advantage of the characteristics of the Silverfrost Mountains' native forest to completely integrate the Crimson Wood Spirit into the surrounding environment.

They were like venomous snakes lurking in the shadows, silently waiting for the perfect moment, until Otto and Tessa lowered their guard, at which point they suddenly launched a deadly attack.

"What a despicable tactic."

Otto cursed inwardly, instinctively tensing his body to prepare for the impending attack.

However, Tessa seemed completely unconcerned. She didn't even make a move, but simply looked around with interest at the crimson deadwood that was spreading.

Otto was curious about what kind of conspiracy his companion was plotting.

While Otto was pondering, the man hidden behind the withered tree spirit had already issued the command.

Immediately afterwards, the Crimson Wood Spirit began to move slowly, leading the two of them deeper into the Silverfrost Mountains.

After an unknown amount of time, the withered tree spirit finally stopped.

The man waved his hand, and Kumu Ling roughly threw the two of them into the entrance of an underground cave hidden in the folds of the mountain.

A damp, chilly air rushed in, carrying a strong stench of blood and decay that made one want to vomit.

From deep within the cave came the crackling sound of a gaunt torch, its flickering light illuminating the twisted and grotesque totems on the walls as if they were alive.

Most of those totems were combinations of one-eyed creatures, fangs, and twisted limbs, which, in the flickering firelight, seemed ready to climb down the walls at any moment and tear intruders to shreds.

The man who was commanding the withered spirits gradually entered the cave, seemingly intending to begin the ritual.

Otto struggled to observe the ritual preparations of the man before him.

The other person was tall and thin, and had changed into a robe made of wild animal fur. He was also applying dark red paint to his face.

He held in his hand a staff inlaid with countless beast teeth, the top of which was set with a murky red gem.

It flickered slightly with his breath.

After he had finished preparing, he stood in the center of the cave and announced to the warriors of the tribe.

"Glocker is dead, and now I, Pongerd, am your new leader!"

Poincaré arrogantly announced his succession.

Before Otto could even get a good look at his surroundings, he was roughly dragged away by several strong barbarian warriors.

The shaman, controlling the scarlet withered wood spirit, used a special thick hemp rope mixed with magic to firmly bind Otto to a cold stone pillar.

These hemp ropes felt rough and tough to the touch, and seemed to be made from some kind of special plant fiber mixed with the tendons of wild animals.

Otto could even clearly see strands of black substance resembling human hair mixed in between the gaps in the hemp rope, a sight that sent chills down one's spine.

Otto instinctively wanted to mobilize the magic within his body and use breathing techniques to break free from the restraints.

However, just as his magic began to flow, the ropes suddenly emitted a strange power, locking his magic pathways like iron clamps.

The magic surged wildly within his body, yet not a single drop could escape; instead, it brought waves of tearing pain.

But Ponge didn't care about Otto's feelings at all, and just tightened the rope even more.

The sharp edges of the hemp rope quickly chafed the skin on Otto's wrists and ankles, and blood slowly flowed down the stone pillar, pooling into a small puddle on the cold ground.

As his strength waned with the loss of blood, Otto's consciousness began to blur.

But just as the Crimson Wood Spirit turned to leave, Otto struggled to lift his head, his gaze passing through the flickering firelight and landing on the massive stone altar in the center of the cave.

It was an altar carved from a single block of black rock, its surface covered with mottled bloodstains and scratches, clearly having been used countless times.

Around the altar are placed the golden scales representing Callum, the god of law and judgment, the dagger and skull representing the goddess of disease and plague, as well as symbols and emblems of other kingdom gods.

Among these symbols, even more shocking offerings were placed.

A dozen or so men in white robes lay on the wooden frames around the altar, their throats slit by sharp knives, blood slowly flowing down the carved grooves on the frames and pooling in the center of the altar.

There, the marks of six gods surround a larger, more ferocious mark, the symbol of the barbarian god Grak, a single, enormous eye with a pattern of fangs branded inside.

Dark red blood had already overflowed the single eye of the Grac mark, gradually filling the fang pattern inside.

As blood continued to be injected, the mark began to glow faintly, emanating an ancient and evil aura.

Poingard stood before the altar, holding his staff high, chanting incantations.

His voice was hoarse and obscure, like some kind of ancient incantation.

As he chanted, the air around the altar began to distort and hiss, making a teeth-grinding sound.

"Five now, just one more to go."

Pangard suddenly turned around, his single eye gleaming with excitement, his gaze fixed on Tessa, who was being led to the altar by two barbarian warriors.

His voice trembled slightly with excitement.

"Next, your soul will be infused with the mark of Callum, the god of law and judgment, and become part of this great ceremony!"

When your soul merges into the embrace of Grak, I will become the most powerful shaman in the history of the tribe!

"Gladimir and His totem will grant me unparalleled power; I will become the new overlord!"

Tessa was thus pushed to the center of the altar.

The barbarian warriors chained her hands and feet to the four corners of the altar with heavy iron chains, the chains clanging against the stone altar.

A crisp sound.

Tessa's expression didn't change, and there wasn't a trace of fear in her eyes.

She simply watched the shaman gesticulating wildly before her with a faint hint of mockery in her eyes, as if she were looking at a clown posing and preening in front of her.