Mystery: The Witch of Desire

This was her first time menstruating. There was no excruciating pain as she had expected, probably because her extraordinary strength had enhanced her physique. However, the warm menstrual blood still flowed out.

The bloodthirsty glove, which had been eager to try its luck, seemed to smell blood and became extremely excited. It circled around her skirt, peeking out from under it every now and then, letting out urgent roars like a living creature.

Liviel hesitated for a moment, recalling the malicious man's earlier words: menstrual blood has a low spiritual content and its nourishing effect on the Bloodthirsty Gloves is limited. But for now, it's always better to let the gloves absorb less blood from her arm.

Having made up her mind, Livre slowly put on the Bloodthirst Gloves, her cheeks slightly flushed. With a hint of embarrassment, she lifted her skirt and carefully slipped the gloves inside.

"what--"

Almost the instant the touch, Livr couldn't help but cry out. The glove seemed to activate instantly, becoming unusually active, frantically licking the blood with urgent and greedy movements, as if it were savoring the most delicious food in the world.

An indescribable, intense feeling instantly swept over her body, leaving Livre's mind blank and her body trembling uncontrollably, a strange heat surging through her.

After a while, the glove finally had its fill and stopped licking. Livre, her face flushed, took it out, her emotions a mix of love and fear.

The glove seemed to be thoroughly satisfied with its meal, nuzzling against Livia as if it were alive, displaying extreme intimacy.

Livre gasped for breath, feeling a little strange. Why had the previously violent glove been so easily satisfied? According to the malicious man, that little bit of menstrual blood didn't have much spiritual energy, did it?

She touched her lower abdomen with some curiosity, then suddenly remembered the tattoo on it, and blushed.

Could it be that because of this tattoo, my uterus is nourished, resulting in a higher spiritual content in my secretions compared to normal women?

After much hesitation, Livre finally couldn't bear to part with the magical glove, so she covered it with a thin film and put it away as well.

So much time has passed that Luna Bell and Clive's spirits have long since dissipated, making it impossible to communicate through spirits.

Livre didn't feel sorry; Luna Bell's spirit, like Bright's, had likely set up some kind of obstacle.

However, there was still one important item she hadn't found:

Luna Bell is now a material for pleasure!

The potion will lose its effectiveness if not taken within a short period of time after being prepared, so Luna Bell must have prepared the raw materials in order to prepare the potion and take it before the play opens.

Livr picked up a mirror to perform a divination:

"Location of Luna Bell's Pleasure Potion ingredients."

The mirror surface rippled, revealing a large floor-to-ceiling window.

Liviel arrived at the French windows, the last battlefield of the battle-hardened witch Luna Bell before her death.

After searching for a while, she discovered a small hidden compartment in the large vanity mirror directly opposite the French windows. Livre already had a phobia of mirrors in Luna Bell's house; if that mirror hadn't suddenly shattered, Luna Bell wouldn't have discovered her. Why did that mirror suddenly explode? Was it because Luna Bell had set up some kind of warning system?

Liviel carefully checked the area several times to make sure there was no danger before stepping forward and opening the hidden compartment in the base of the dressing mirror. Inside was a package full of materials and a note:

[Pleasure Potion:]

The eyes of the enchanting succubus

One silk gland of an adult giant widow spider

100 ml of pure water

5 drops of black datura juice

All the remaining hair of the enchantress

10 grams of powdered Fennebot fly

5 grams of genuine mummy ashes

This is the recipe and ingredients for the potion of pleasure!

Liviel opened the package to inspect it. Inside were a pair of eyes that were so captivating that they could make one lose their mind, as well as hair, silk glands, and other materials, along with several small bottles containing powder, which were basically consistent with the materials recorded in the formula.

In addition, Liviel also found Luna Bell's reward for Clive by the full-length mirror: this small package contained the main ingredients for the Inquisitor's Potion, another considerable gain.

Livre returned to the second floor and burned Clive and Luna Bell's naked bodies to ashes.

She had intended to continue plundering Mr. Bell's wealth, but Mr. Bell and his servants had all run away. If they reported the church and returned with extraordinary individuals, it would be a huge problem. The trip had already been quite fruitful, and there was no need to take any more risks.

She chiseled open the wall behind the gas lamp, exposing the gas pipe, then broke the valve, causing a large amount of gas to gush out. After that, Livre knocked over several candlesticks and quickly left Mr. Bell's villa.

Shortly after, the villa experienced a massive explosion due to a gas leak.

Livre ran back to the Joewood district. She was leaving and moving to the East End, but there was one more thing she had to do before she left.

Late at night, at the Joewood Precinct police station.

"Release all the prisoners? Inspector, are you sure?"

The trainee inspector on duty, Novizan, looked at Clevill in front of him and asked in surprise.

Livre, disguised as Claire, calmly said:

"We're only releasing the homeless people we recently caught; they're useless and take up too much space."

Novizan asked with some doubt:

“Inspector, so many homeless people suddenly appearing in the city center is a bad influence. And if we release them, what will happen to our supplies? Isn't Pariya waiting for our supplies?”

Livr raised an eyebrow:

"I understand."

"Load them onto the trucks and send them all to Paria on the eastern border."

Novizan nodded quickly and arranged for two trams to carry all one hundred homeless people onto the trams. Those without seats squatted on the ground as the trams headed toward Pariya.

Novizan, accompanied by several police officers, followed Livre and said:

“Inspector, these people are all trustworthy. I’ll take them over to maintain order.”

Livre smiled meaningfully:

"Trustworthy? Are you sure?"

Novizan makes a guarantee:

"Don't worry, this isn't the first time they've done this. I've given them a cut of the profits, so they're absolutely trustworthy."

A cold glint flashed in Cleverly's eyes, but he still smiled:

"That's good."

Late at night, the horse-drawn carriage arrived in Paria, and Livre ordered the police to remove all the customers.

More than a hundred homeless people, under police supervision, lined up to enter the theater on the third floor of the Paria.

The homeless people sat huddled together on the bench, their backs ramrod straight, their eyes filled with fear and confusion. Beside them, several uniformed police officers stood menacingly, their hands in their pockets gripping pistols. In the deathly silence, only the suppressed breathing of the crowd could be heard.

Just then, the curtain in the center of the theater slowly opened, and a sweet, cloying announcement voice, amplified through the loudspeakers, resounded throughout the entire theater, carrying a touch of eerie allure:

"Distinguished guests, please enjoy the play, 'The Trial of the Witches'."

Before the words were even finished, all the lights in the room suddenly went out, and a thick darkness instantly enveloped the area. A chilling and eerie atmosphere quietly spread, causing everyone present to shiver involuntarily. The next second, the tall candlesticks on both sides of the stage slowly lit up with black flames, casting flickering light on the stage and adding to the sinister feeling, as if they had instantly fallen into a dark abyss.

A dim stage light shone precisely on the center of the stage, illuminating a stunningly beautiful figure—Luna Bell. She wore a long black lace dress with eerie dark patterns embroidered on the hem, her skin was so white it was almost translucent, and her eyes were filled with both allure and sinister intent, her entire being shrouded in an aura of evil that seemed to solidify into reality.

She slightly raised her eyes, parted her red lips, and her alluring voice slowly rose, carrying an eerie and chilling power that subtly stirred the heartstrings of all the audience members:

"I am the serpent in the shadows, the witch in the darkness, I lurk in the cracks between night and hell, reaping the souls of the greedy..."

The song was long and eerie, with a sinister atmosphere permeating every word. The homeless people in the audience subconsciously held their breath, their eyes fixed on the stage, feeling both fear and irresistibly drawn to that strange power.

The light and shadow suddenly shifted, the candlelight flickered, and the figure in the center of the stage instantly changed into a man dressed in fine clothes—the play's male lead, Coleman!

His brows were furrowed, his expression filled with grief and indignation, and he began to sing:

"I see evil spreading, I see darkness engulfing everything, the witch's whispers are in my ears, the bells of judgment are about to toll..."

Then, amidst the shifting light and shadow, the figures on the stage changed continuously. Lucy, Carlotta, old Fitch, Riley, and Isabella appeared one after another, each with expressive features and fluent lyrics, vividly portraying the ups and downs of the plot.

The homeless people in the audience were full of curiosity, deeply attracted by the plot, and also felt it was quite peculiar: this play only had one character on stage each time, with no other characters, yet the plot flowed seamlessly, the dialogue was fluent, and the suspense was endless, making people unable to help but immerse themselves in it.

Just as the plot reached its climax, two dim yellow lights illuminated the sides of the stage. Several invisible threads, fueled by the candlelight, spread from the depths of the stage, seemingly alive, and coiled around the two police officers maintaining order on either side of the theater. The two officers didn't even have time to struggle; their eyes quickly became empty and wooden, and their bodies moved uncontrollably, step by step, onto the stage, their expressions as stiff as marionettes.

Norvezan, watching this scene from the side, had a hint of surprise in his eyes: When did Inspector Clive arrange for his officers to play the role of a cameo?

He didn't think much of it, assuming it was just part of the play, and continued to focus on the stage.

The two police officers who stepped onto the stage instantly switched expressions, their faces turning fierce and menacing as they played the roles of ruthless cops protecting a corrupt businessman. They brutally and mercilessly punched and kicked Lucy, who played the victim on stage. Lucy, meanwhile, curled up on the ground, weeping bitterly and praying desperately to the dark night sky.

"Witch of the night, I beseech you to descend, punish all darkness, and redeem all suffering souls!"

The homeless people in the audience watched with righteous indignation. They had experienced too much injustice and suffering, and seeing Lucy being bullied, they all seemed to see themselves being humiliated. Just then, some people were surprised to find that the police officers who had been watching over them either went up on stage like the two people, or inexplicably collapsed to the ground, their eyes closed, and fell into a deep sleep, with no one watching over them anymore.

The pent-up emotions exploded instantly; the homeless men stood up, waving their fists and shouting together:

"The witch has descended! Punish the darkness!"

Novizan pulled out his pistol in shock and shouted for order to be maintained, but the situation was no longer under his control.

Amidst the shouts and cheers, the stage lights and shadows shifted dramatically once more, and Lucy's figure vanished instantly, replaced by a veiled woman.

She had a slender figure, and her head was covered with a black veil as thin as a cicada's wing, revealing only a section of her fair neck and a pair of alluring yet cold eyes. Beneath the veil was Livr's stunningly beautiful face.

As soon as Livre appeared, a cluster of black flames ignited at her fingertips. Her figure flashed like a ghost, instantly appearing in front of the two police officers playing the villains. The two officers froze, standing motionless as if being subjected to a punishment or judgment.

The crowd erupted in cheers, the homeless waving their arms, their eyes filled with fervor and relief, as if they had truly seen hope that darkness would be punished.

But the next second, a cold glint of black flame flashed by, and the policeman's head fell, warm blood gushing out and splattering on the stage floor, a shocking sight.

The homeless people froze, staring at the gushing blood, and an atmosphere of fear instantly enveloped them.

Novizan, standing to the side, also froze. He suddenly realized something was wrong. The splattered head and the gushing blood were too real. This was no theatrical cameo!

He immediately drew his pistol and rushed towards the stage, shouting as he ran:

"Stop! Stop the performance right now! This isn't a play, it's murder!"

But as soon as he finished speaking, he felt a strange stiffness in his body, as if countless invisible threads were wrapped around his limbs. He felt weak all over, and his steps moved uncontrollably toward the center of the stage. The pistol in his hand fell to the ground with a "clatter," and he didn't even have the strength to resist.

On stage, Livre slowly turned around and looked at Novizan, who was being manipulated to approach. A strange and cold smile appeared on her lips, and there was no pity in her eyes, only pure evil and cruelty.

A cluster of jet-black flames ignited at her fingertips, radiating a chilling coldness. As soon as it approached Novizan's skin, it hissed and scorched, instantly creating a charred wound. The flesh curled and carbonized, and a pungent, burnt smell instantly filled the air, mixed with the stench of blood, creating a nauseating odor that permeated the entire theater.

Novizan let out a piercing scream. At that moment, he realized that the control of the invisible threads was weakening, making escape impossible, but just enough for him to struggle desperately. His body convulsed uncontrollably as he watched helplessly as the black flames slowly devoured his skin. Excruciating pain spread throughout his body from the wounds, every bone feeling as if it were being pierced by ice picks or burned by raging fire. The two extreme pains intertwined, almost causing him to faint.

Clive didn't care at all. She gently turned her fingertips, and black flames slowly spread along his arm, scorching his wrist and elbow, leaving behind hideous scorch marks. Blood gushed out from the charred wounds and dripped onto the stage floor, spreading a dazzling red.

This intense visual impact was accompanied by a strong sense of fear. The homeless people instinctively curled up, clutching their arms tightly. The sound of the black flames burning their flesh and Novizan's heart-wrenching screams were like sharp knives stabbing into their hearts.

Before Novizan's screams could subside, Livre gently raised her other hand, and several sharp icicles materialized out of thin air, gleaming with a pale, cold light. Like poisoned daggers, they precisely pierced Novizan's shoulder and thigh. Each icicle was deeply embedded in his flesh, and the icy coldness surged into his body through the wounds, freezing his blood and nerves, making his convulsions stiff, and his screams hoarse and broken.

She even deliberately twisted the icicles, letting the sharp edges churn in the flesh, and a morbid pleasure flashed in her eyes as she watched Novizan's eyes widen and his face fill with fear.

After endless torment, Novizan finally met his end. Livre slowly turned to the audience, and with a flick of her finger, the invisible threads binding Novizan's corpse tightened abruptly, hoisting him high into the air. Novizan was no longer human; his body was a bloody mess, his charred skin intertwined with dark red blood, his limbs twisted and deformed, his head drooping limply, and dripping blood falling from the threads, striking the stage floor with a piercing "tap-tap" sound that echoed sharply in the deathly silence of the theater.

A cruel and eerie smile curled at the corner of her lips, her laughter low and chilling, echoing throughout the theater.

"Everyone will die. You, every single one of you, are sacrifices to evil, lambs to the witch's slaughter!"

These words struck like a thunderbolt, shattering the homeless people's last psychological defenses and pushing the atmosphere of fear to its peak. They could no longer suppress their panic, letting out heart-wrenching screams filled with despair and collapse. Those who had been huddled on the benches suddenly stood up and scattered like headless flies.

Seeing the chaos and fear in the audience, Livre's sickly smile grew even brighter, a sinister glint in her eyes. At that moment, her spiritual energy surged violently, a warm power sweeping through her body, bringing her to an unprecedented state of clarity—she had successfully digested the witch's potion.

She stood amidst a pool of blood, and amidst the terrified screams and panicked fleeing of the audience, she slowly pulled a bottle of dark red potion from her bosom. The potion shimmered with pink bubbles, emanating a faint spiritual aura, and was filled with an alluring charm.

Liviel tilted her head back and drank the potion in one gulp. The dark red liquid entered her throat, and a seductive power exploded within her. Her eyes grew colder, and her sinister aura intensified. She felt herself being devoured and overwhelmed by evil, and a powerfully alluring voice seemed to be shouting in her mind:

"Kill them!"

"Kill them!"

"Bring fear to everyone!"

Livr raised her somewhat bloodshot eyes.

"Snapped!"

After a crisp sound, all the lights that had been turned off suddenly came on, and the dazzling light instantly enveloped the entire theater, dispelling the heavy darkness and eeriness.

The homeless people who were frantically fleeing suddenly froze, instinctively stopping in their tracks, their faces filled with astonishment and confusion. They all looked up at the stage, but the actors on stage had vanished. Novizan's corpse, the flying rubble, the eerie black flames—everything that had just happened had disappeared without a trace, leaving only a few faint bloodstains on the stage floor, dried and blackened, silently telling the story of the bloodshed and cruelty that had just occurred.

Just as everyone was at a loss and looking at each other blankly, a sweet, cloying announcement suddenly came from the theater's loudspeakers:

"The performance has ended. All audience members, please leave the venue in an orderly manner."

After a one-second pause, the sweet voice rang out again:

"The sinners have been judged; you are free."

The homeless people were stunned for a few seconds, then overjoyed, they rushed out from all the exits and surged into the smog-shrouded streets to pursue their difficult path to survival.

Meanwhile, in the broadcasting studio behind the stage, Livr collapsed onto the cold floor, utterly exhausted.