Chapter 50#

Temple of the Burning Lamp 21#

“I still think we should leave.” The King of Shadi frowned deeply.

The Empress sat on the chair with her eyes closed, clutching her abdomen, restraining the hunger that almost made her want to rush out and eat people. She said irritably: “If you want to die, go find it yourself.”

“Also, haven’t you noticed? The candles are burning especially fast. Our candles won’t hold out.”

“Shut up, it’s so annoying!” The Empress pinched her palm, doing her best to dispel the illusions. It wasn’t until she felt her mind clear that she opened her eyes, only to see the candles on the rack almost burnt to their ends.

“What’s going on?” She was suddenly startled.

From the first night she arrived at the temple, she had begun to collect candles and calculate the speed at which they burned. The candles she had hoarded should have been fine burning for a whole day. Why were they about to burn out so soon?

“There’s something wrong with these candles.” She said calmly: “Did someone tamper with them? Or did you violate the rules?”

“There’s no time,” the candle flame almost burnt through her sensitive nerves, and the impulse to go out rushed into the King of Shadi’s brain.

“The other side left early, they might still have candles!” After saying that, he grabbed a handful of burning candles and stormed out the door. The Empress didn’t stop him. Thinking that getting candles was serious business, she didn’t continue to stop him either. Instead, she sat down again, holding her forehead and thinking.

Clearly, illusions are the most common interference method in dungeons. She had experienced many similar traps and had a whole set of theories for dealing with various illusions. This time, she had also withstood the temptation to go out, but why was everything so wrong now? What exactly went wrong?

A vague sense of losing control rose from her subconscious and reached its peak five minutes later.

Five minutes had passed, and Shadi hadn’t come out yet. Just to get a candle, five minutes was already considered dawdling.

The alarm bells rang in her mind, and she shouted: “Shadi?”

No one answered. Half a minute later, a faint sound of chewing came from the room opposite.

The Empress shuddered and completely woke up. She suddenly looked up out the window and immediately saw the grayish-white sky and the small wellhead in the very center of the sky, which couldn’t be any smaller.

“Damn it!” She cursed under her breath, resolutely kicked off her high heels, quickly gathered a dozen candles, held them in one arm, and lifted her skirt with the other hand. She didn’t care at all about what Shadi had encountered in the opposite room and rushed outside without looking back.

Atrium.

The wellhead gradually turned white, and a bleak beam of daylight shot straight down, while the wind also blew away the night mist enveloping the atrium. The black iron execution beds, arranged in a solar radiation pattern, were the same as the previous two days, except that two black-robed figures stood beside each execution bed, one monk and one nun. Only the execution beds in the innermost circle were empty.

And in the center of the site, which was the center of the sun—stood a crystal bed.

The red-haired, white-robed young Holy Son lay on the crystal bed. Two white-robed nuns stood by the bed, looking around uneasily.

The old man in the cloak said: “Guests, please follow me.”

They followed him into the atrium. While crossing the many black iron execution beds, Yu Feichen glanced at the monks and nuns.

Their bodies were all hidden under black robes. Beneath the pitch black was still pitch black. Not a single part could be seen, nor could the rise and fall of breathing be seen on their shoulders and chests.

The day before yesterday, all the nuns died. Yesterday, all the monks died. Now, everyone is gathered here again. However, what exactly is under the black robes is uncertain.

The old man in the cloak led them to the innermost empty circle of execution beds. they spread out, one for each person.

Yu Feichen counted. There were eleven execution beds in this circle. They were also eleven people when they first arrived at the temple, as if they were tailor-made.

Only, among the eleven people, some were destined to be unable to come here. Death in the fragment world is true death.

On the crystal bed in the center, the Holy Son’s breathing was slightly rapid, and his face was flushed with a high fever. The black iron candlestick was still firmly inserted in his body. Seeing this terrible scene, Molly couldn’t help but let out a cry of surprise. After making the sound, she couldn’t help but look around again, seeing that her companions had also seen it, but not a single person overreacted. She pursed her lips, suppressed her tears, lowered her head, and stopped looking there.

The old man in the cloak slowly walked to the Holy Son’s bed in the center.

“The curtain of thick darkness is about to close. The survival of Casablanca is today.”

“Guests from afar, you have come. Without your extraordinary wisdom, the magic potion would certainly not have been made. The temple thanks you for your efforts.”

As he spoke, three black-robed nuns walked to his side.

The nun on the left held a black iron tray containing a crystal-clear Blood Salt Heart. The tray of the nun on the right held the Human Eye Butterfly “Goddess of Fate.” The butterfly was still alive, its eyes still full of resentment looking forward, but its wings had been mostly cut off, so it couldn’t move.

The nun in the center held a black iron basin, and there was nothing in the basin.

Four monks respectively carrying stands and a cauldron also came to the center and lit a fire under the cauldron.

Yu Feichen watched their movements and thought: they were going to make the resurrection potion on the spot.

And the third ingredient of the magic potion was still empty. I’m afraid, as Ludwig said last night, someone will inevitably die today.

“The equipment is ready,” said the old man in the cloak.

At this moment, the wellhead above, which had shrunk to the size of a small hole, suddenly brightened. The light hit straight down, only illuminating this small circular area of the atrium.

And besides that, other places, the whole world, and the rest of the temple’s buildings were all shrouded in shadows. One could even see huge black tentacles spiraling and moving there.

No matter how bright the candle is, there is a time when it burns out. If… they couldn’t reach here before noon, what would await them would probably be that thing.

“The time is coming,” only to hear the old man in the cloak say: “The production of the resurrection magic potion is about to begin. Ingredient three—”

But a rush of footsteps came from the entrance.

A crimson shadow hurried through the gate and only slowed down after entering the atrium—the Empress’s hair was disheveled, and her arms and neck were covered in bloody cuts. The King was nowhere to be seen, but the gray-clothed male attendant still followed her.

She straightened her hair, appearing disheveled but still walking into the field with a natural expression: “Sorry, I almost was late.”

The old man in the cloak acted as if he hadn’t heard anything and continued to announce loudly.

“Ingredient number three—the Wisdom of the Wise.”