"What's the ritual?" Shangzhao asked.
The old farmer's gaze shifted evasively, and finally he muttered, "It's...it's a child under seven from the family... Granny says, children are pure, the gods like them the most... After the sacrifice, the child can enjoy happiness in the Divine Country, and the family can be blessed..."
As he spoke, he even tried to force a smile.
It seemed like he was comforting himself, yet also like he was trying to persuade outsiders.
The crowd felt a chill run through their hearts.
Voluntarily sacrificing one's own flesh and blood for an elusive "blessing".
Leaving this suffocating village, they continued along the mountain path.
The trail grew increasingly rugged and desolate, the trees on both sides were ominous.
At noon, as they passed the remnants of a long-abandoned tea hut, an abrupt change occurred.
