"Did it make the wardrobe react?"
Brother Bug raised his eyebrows slightly but said nothing more. He knew that sacrificial offerings the Death Building needed could occasionally be found in the middle dream. This only meant that Gao Ming had been very lucky.
"The next step is to stimulate the wardrobe with my own blood." Unwilling to use Brother Bug's knife, Gao Ming bit into his wrist. "Can I bleed in a dream, too?"
"This isn't a dream." Brother Bug was about to explain when he suddenly realized something—the wardrobe had already reacted before Gao Ming had stimulated it with his blood!
The wound at the corner of his eye split open. Brother Bug took a closer look and discovered that it wasn't the wardrobe devouring the negative emotions in the offerings, but the offering Gao Ming had just placed inside it.
Brother Bug wanted to stop him, but Gao Ming had already bitten through his wrist. As though born without any sense of pain, he let the blood pool in his palm, then cupped it in his hand and pressed it against the patterns on the wardrobe.
Thump! Thump!
Every player on the floor heard the dull heartbeat. Like a war drum, it carried a peculiar rhythm that influenced them all without their awareness.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked toward the center of the hall.
Gao Ming's blood itself seemed to be an extremely high-level sacrificial offering. The vitality surging through it was fiercely invasive. Rather than merging with the patterns on the wardrobe, it was forcing those butterfly patterns to mutate!
"Who left the patterns on the cabinet?"
"An evil ghost born in the deep world. It once had countless worshippers—a false god on the verge of death." Brother Bug spoke rapidly. At some point,