The ritual began.
Liu Ping lit three candles and placed them to the left, right, and center of the mirror. The blue-green flames danced, bringing no warmth—instead, the temperature around them suddenly plummeted.
The candlelight shone.
Replacing the lanterns on the ceiling.
Some strange, translucent, thread-like objects appeared in the air. Some resembled spiderwebs, but when a hand reached toward them, it passed through with ease. There was nothing there.
The scarlet beneath their feet was covered by the candlelight and seemed to grow sticky.
As if.
They were stepping on the tongue coating of some creature.
But when they looked down.
The floor was still the floor. Apart from a slight change in color, there was nothing else suspicious.
After lighting the candles.
Liu Ping picked up three incense sticks.
Their twisted bodies.
Their countless blood vessels.
Once smoke began to rise, they actually started writhing like living things.
Wisps of green smoke curled upward.
They began to spread through the room.
The entire room became hazy, and visibility continued to decline. Before long, the four of them seemed to be inside an illusion, unable to see more than three feet ahead even when they looked up.
Obviously.
The smoke had some effect that isolated the senses.
But it was not unpleasant.
It had a strange sweetness.
It was somewhat like sandalwood mixed with the scent of roses, tinged with the sickly sweetness of rusty iron.
"I feel like someone is talking beside my ear."
Don looked around, then quietly told Liu Yuanyuan through sign language.
"Yes."
Liu Yuanyuan nodded silently.
The ritual was underway, so this was not the time to speak. Even using supernatural means to transmit messages was not a good choice, because they could not determine whether the slightest supernatural disturbance would trigger a chain