Yu Sheng was still staring blankly at his phone after the call ended. Two seconds later, he lowered his head and looked at Eileen (the main unit) by his feet. "How can I not tell whether she's angry...?"
"She didn't seem to swear this time, but I think that's only because she's gotten used to it," Eileen analyzed seriously. "Look on the bright side. At least this time you weren't suddenly struck by inspiration at midnight and decided to cause trouble..."
Yu Sheng coughed twice, forcibly suppressing the trace of guilt in his heart, then shifted his attention to the door before him.
The mottled, ancient wooden door leaned crookedly against the white basement wall. Strange, complex lines and symbols covered the doorframe and the surrounding floor. Several candles burned quietly nearby, and the faint scent of spices filled the air—the same batch from the five-yuan shop.
Whether the infusion ritual would work was still uncertain, but the atmosphere was certainly in place.
Yu Sheng drew a gentle breath to calm his slightly nervous mood. Then, following the method he had previously devised through some creative modifications, he cut open his palm and guided his blood onto the door.
Infusion meant pouring one's "spirituality" into matter that originally had no life. Since clay could become the flesh and blood of a doll, and rebar could become its bones, a door could naturally become a target for infusion as well.
The candles crackled as their flames gradually rose. The blood silently seeped into the mottled, ancient wood. Gradually, the lines and patterns drawn on the surrounding floor with ordinary ink began to take on a dark-red hue, as though blood were slowly replacing every part of the alchemical array. Yu Sheng even heard faint sounds like something being scorched.
He widened