252 The Sacrifice

The tide reflected the fine moonlight. The cold moonlight crashed onto the reef, with the waves like splashing frost. In the long night, the tide mingled with the cries from the depth of darkness that wandered around the white city like a call from a dead country in the deep sea.

The scattered vapor rose from the sea, heavy and cold like the angry souls of the dead. The white mist was so heavy nothing could be seen. It submerged the whole city and swallowed everything.

There seemed to be a young boy singing softly in the mist. The song wandered across the streets and alleys. It could be faintly heard as long as one listened carefully, it.

"The king and his helpers kidnapped the queen, imprisoning her in dreams. We have power and the sea so which direction should we wander…Oh ho, millions of pairs of hands raise the sails high. Pull, the thieves and beggars, we’ll have eternal life…"

Under the chilling song, the patrol man with a lantern in his hand breathed coldly. With a chill, he sped up his patrol but the song followed behind him like a shadow, making his face pale.

Avalon late at night was by no means a good place. This glorious city, which shone brightly in the daytime, hid countless unknown truths within. No matter which of the tens of thousands of truths was accidentally seen, it was enough for the witness to evaporate and disappear totally. Every dark street was like a doorway to hell, calling out to the lone patrolman.

In the dark, the youthful singing sounded clearer and clearer. It wound around the patrolman's ears, making him shiver. It was as if something in the song lured him to march toward the sound.

His mind emptied gradually, gradually.

On the silent streets, only the sound of footsteps echoed.

The vacant-eyed patrolman lurched forward. The homeless, also lured by the song at some point, joined in as well. They walked toward the direction of the song. Water puddles reflected the icy pale moonlight and illuminated their dull and wooden faces. In the darkness, the little boy's voice twisted at some point, turning into the cackles of countless ghosts in their ears.

"Its key has been inserted into the box. The devil will realize our dream. The bell has already rung in the cemetery. Did you hear the eerie song? Respond to our calls, the blood debt will be paid…Oh ho, raise the sails, we’ll return home. Pull, the thieves and beggars, we will be immortal in death!"

Boom! The lantern fell from the patrolman’s hand and hit the stone steps, breaking suddenly. The oil and flames fell on him, igniting his body. The pain finally woke him.

He screamed in pain and found himself kneeling on the cold altar without realizing. The shadow of the sacrifice covered his face under the twisted firelight. The dark figure was clad in red. There seemed to be a hundred pairs of eyes under the hood of the shadow. They were full of compassion but also indifference.

The patrolman was overcome by the eyes. He could not help but pray on the ground, kissing his blade, and singing softly. "We will be immortal in death."

Blood splattered. The warm liquid flowed silently, spilling over the ground.

-

Two hours later, it was a deeper night. Lestrade walked out of the crime scene with a pale face. He gritted his teeth for a long time and pulled out a silver coin from his pocket. There was a vague face on the silver coin, as well as a name of darkness and secrets—Sherlock Holmes.

The silver coin fell from his hands and into the flames, shaking endlessly. After a long while, it suddenly collapsed into a ball of mist. A crisp sound came.

Ding. The buzzing sound swept past his ear and penetrated into the darkness. Cold wind blew in the night like the chuckle of the vengeful spirit. Somehow, the sound that was once so daunting was now so reassuring.

Lestrade lit his pipe and gazed into the distant darkness. He held down his fear and waited patiently.

After some time, a hoarse voice sounded behind him. "I’ve said before not to disturb me if it’s not important. I hope you won’t disappoint me." That husky voice clung to his heart like a sharp and cold razor. He shivered.

"According to your co-command... I should contact you if something strange happens," he stammered. Pausing, he took a deep breath and summoned up courage. "They’re in there."

"They?" the shadow asked.

Lestrade swallowed hard and said, "I don’t know how to describe those things…those things, I can’t say."

The angry spirit standing in the mist pondered for a moment and nodded. "Lead the way."

-

"Recently, the capital is being secured secretly. The policemen patrol with alarm bells, and the police department check the situation through the big enchantment of Avalon at any time. An hour ago, we found out that a patrol officer was killed and when the forces were called out, it was too late."

Lestrade walked in front and wrapped his overcoat tightly as if he was afraid of the wind. Occasionally, he looked around, revealing a pale face.

Ye Qingxuan could not help but shake his head. "You never seem to be on time."

"You always need some time from receiving the signals to organizing teams and acting. Avalon is so big. A few minutes aren’t even enough to pull the horse out of the barn."

"And you also need some time to react for those who work at night, right?"

Ye Qingxuan's rhetorical question made Lestrade speechless. His expression grew bitter. What cleverness was he pretending in front of this one? He was only clearer than Lestrade about those private activities.

"Anyway, when we arrived, it was too late." He shrugged and looked at the young man guarding the door, who was leaning against the wall, stooping to vomit violently. He had vomited all the bile and was now dry heaving.

Ye Qingxuan stopped and glanced at him before walking straight toward the scene. The other gatekeepers were totally unaware of his arrival, but forced a solemn expression onto their face and saluted Lestrade.

Lestrade paused for a moment, quietly watching the silent Vengeful Spirit beside him. The figure had melted into the mist, making him faintly invisible. It was as if he did not exist at all.

This was good too. He sighed out of relief. This saved him an explanation in case any clues and traces would be found.

When they entered, several others were lifted out with vomit on their pale faces. The people who held them looked bad as well and their legs were a little weak.

"Have they never seen dead people at the scene?" Ye Qingxuan asked quietly.

"That's not the scene." Lestrade lowered his eyes. "It’s hell."

-

"Actually, I won't laugh at you if you puke."

"Shut up."

"You’re expression’s changing. It will be much better to puke it out."

"Shut up."

"Holding it in is harmful. You're going against your nature."

"I said shut up!"

And so Lola’s voice disappeared.

Ye Qingxuan stood in the middle of the scene, looking around expressionlessly. A few minutes ago, he was still looking down on that bunch of cowardly and weak policemen, but now he had sympathy for them. Who would run into such a hell if it was not their duty?

In short, this place was littered with carnage. If one were to describe the details, one could write tens of thousands of words. Then it would be spread widely amongst the dark enthusiasts and receive critical acclaim. Unfortunately, the people who came here generally lacked appreciation for the arts, and were unaware of the vast business opportunities.

"How many dead are there?" Ye Qingxuan asked, furrowing his brows.

Lestrade, pinching his nose and replied, "The forensic analyst just told me that there are seventeen."

"Your forensic analyst should go back to school," Ye Qingxuan said slowly. "There are nineteen of them. One is hanging on the tree, and one is trampled under your feet."

Hearing this, Lestrade jumped back in fright and looked at his feet.

Ye Qingxuan plucked the baton from his waist, put it into the pool of blood, and lifted piece of skin filled with black scripture. It was new, hot, and exciting.

Seeing the skin with hair dangling on it and blood dripping from it, Lestrade’s face changed. He covered his mouth, ran to the corner, and vomited violently.

Another one had failed.

All in all, the scene was almost like an accident where a wagon carrying dead pigs crashed into a wagon laden with rotten tomatoes. Then, one-hundred and eight cooks came to cut the pork stained with tomato sauce into mince meat, while also leaving some scraps for frying and other tricks. Moreover, there was so much evidence left at the scene.

"It's none of your business anymore. Report it to the Royal Musician Division." Ye Qingxuan patted Lestrade’s shoulder. "It is the ritual of Hyakume’s followers."

Lestrade paused. It seemed that he had not made the connection yet. But when he really understood the meaning of that name, the already-pale face got paler. "Hyakume?"

"Yes." Ye Qingxuan took his baton and poked it in the eye sockets of the corpse. They were empty with only blood flowing out.

"You see, all the bodies’ eyes have been dug out. These guys gathered here to please their gods by sacrificing mortal lives and pain. It seems that the ceremony was a success."

Lestrade’s face was ghastly pale. "Wha—what do they want?"

"How would I know?" Ye Qingxuan answered indifferently.

Lola's chuckle sounded in his ears again. "Little Yezi, you’re really cute when you lie."

"I let you borrow my eyes, not to just watch the show," Ye Qingxuan responded coldly. At this moment, the more serious he was, the more easily he would be played by the evil Lola. The best way was to ignore her and change the subject.

"Don't waste time anymore time. Have you decided?"