Eat my knees!

The moment Mason stepped into the room, the crystal chandelier above his head suddenly lit up, shining a cold scarlet light into a pair of eyes.

The blurry image disappeared in an instant, so fast that it seemed like an illusion. The young man looked around. The golden floor was covered with a priceless purple hand-woven carpet, and there were beds everywhere, revealing only two words: rich.

After seeing so much, he had become a little numb to this luxurious castle and focused on searching the basement.

Mason found something wrong as he flipped through the books. He checked the cabinets one by one, which contained all kinds of clothes, gorgeous jewelry, and precious ancient books... No matter which kind of extremely expensive items, there was no sign of anyone using them, and the categories were similar and monotonous.

Mason turned around and drew aside the curtains. There was no sign of anyone lying on the sapphire blue bed. As time went on, he could feel more and more eyes focusing on him.

One pair was particularly vicious and cruel.

The young man ignored the advice and searched around until he found a way under the bed. He cut the carpet and revealed a locked door underneath. He poked a hair into the keyhole and opened it without much effort.

A strong sense of malice came at him through the door. He almost heard the voices escaping from the air. Just as he was expecting to go down, Mason felt a little tricky.

"Is there a light down there? There's not even an oil lamp in the room. You wear such a long skirt, won't you trip if you go down there?"

He opened the small door and sighed at the endless darkness below. The light from the chandelier was dazzling, but it could not penetrate into the darkness at all.

That is black fog.

The underground was filled with surging black fog. The real darkness refused the invasion of light and only waited for the invaders to be crushed to pieces with its sneaky and vicious laughter.

The young man didn't think too much. His hair gave him a hint of inspiration. He bit his finger and dripped two drops of blood into his eyes, muttering in his heart, "It's enough to be able to see the road clearly, it's enough to be able to see the road clearly..."

Since he can strengthen others, why can't he strengthen himself?

His mind was opened up, his vision was opened up. When he saw his body as a weapon that could be transformed, Mason actually had some feelings.

Translated, it means "Not enough, give me some more."

He squeezed a few more drops with a painful heart, which made his already scarce blood reserve even worse. And in a place he couldn't see, the dark golden eyes absorbed the blood and gradually formed emotionless beast eyes. They were like some kind of solidified gemstones. When Mason looked into the door again, he could see the steps clearly.

He walked down the stairs. With every step he took, he could hear someone breathing. It was as if someone was following him, staring at his back hungrily.

The light outside the door had long been swallowed up.

Only one strand of rusty hair was still wrapped around him, and the rest kept moving in and out of the black mist. The enchanting red pierced through the shadows one by one, shattering the tiny screams. But soon new shadows appeared, and invisible ashes fell like rain in the darkness.

And the young man's steps are still steady.

He walked up twenty-seven steps, the breathing of twenty-seven people followed behind him, but in the entire basement only the footsteps of one person were echoing.

The young man's eyes shone in the darkness. He stepped down the last step and saw a view in front of him. This basement was surprisingly large and filled with various lifelike human statues. It was in a dilapidated state and looked even dirtier than the bright and beautiful castle.

Mason walked past a kneeling male statue. His face was full of panic and pleading, as if he was frozen here at the last second of his life. The blood from the puncture of his temple was clearly visible.

He walked past a female statue lying on her back on the ground. Her face was covered with tears and she was covering the big hole in her stomach, but her eyes were full of resentment.

He walked past statues one after another. They died in different ways and in different postures, but the hatred they embodied was so strong that just standing among these statues made people feel like they were suffocating.

Mason walked to the end of the statue. There was only one statue. He knelt on the ground, his hands tied behind his back, and made a gesture of repentance and atonement in front of a box. He was stabbed so many times that his body was covered in blood.

The statue looked up with its mouth wide open, its entire face twisted in pain. As Mason passed by him, something suddenly grabbed his foot. He looked down and saw a very pale human figure lying on the ground, holding his foot and saying in a hoarse voice: "Go to hell..."

He recognized who it was and couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. He stepped lightly on the back of his hand and directly crushed the human figure.

"I'm sorry, I'm living a good life. You still have to die first."

The entire black mist was stirred by his words, and the souls imprisoned here glared at him. They were all people who had been defeated in the middle and late stages of the Lost Ritual, and each of them was full of resentment and blood. At this moment, the emotions were turbulent, and even the darkness was stained with a layer of terrifying blood.

The one who was looked down upon laughed.

In contrast, the pair of dark golden beast eyes that were different from those of ordinary people were tinged with coldness. They looked down on all living things, were indifferent and calm, and had no emotions. The lazy voice even had a hint of amusement.

"Whose murderous aura is heavier?"

The next second, a terrifying murderous intent emanated from him. Due to the instigation of the undead, this time the curse almost solidified into a physical entity.

Surrounding the red-haired young man, countless monsters that had been killed were wailing in the sea of ​​blood and corpses. Killing breeds killing, malice breeds malice... The handsome young man's eyes were filled with madness, and he kindly asked again as he looked at the dazed undead.

"Do you want to continue the competition?"

......

In the magnificent hall, the host had a gloomy face, and deep in his eyes he could see the coming storm.

The hostess, the knight, the little son and the guests all failed to show up for the party on time.

Only the cute little daughter sat on the chair, drooling at the empty table. The sweet and delicious smell filled the air, making her feel extremely hungry.

"Do you want me to go find those people for you, sir?"

The butler asked politely. The host looked at him coldly: "Stay here, Rambo."

Rather than asking him to find someone, the host, knowing that he had lost control, did not want him to leave the stage. The butler obeyed his order and stood behind the girl again.

Ollie patiently asked him through telepathy: "How long do we have to wait?"

"Until the mistress returns. Although I don't know what Aurelius did, he should have used the remaining men to restrain the mistress."

"As things stand now, the host cannot leave the party at will, but the hostess can move around freely. When she comes back, we can see if there is any disturbance."

Brainworm arranged the plan in an orderly manner. As time passed, the man's irritation became more and more obvious. But no matter what, he never asked Rambo to find other people.

He was more persistent in demanding the dinner go on than the hostess's early return.

Silence enveloped the hall. At some point, the two suddenly felt the whole room shake. The man's face changed suddenly, he stood up and walked towards the door without hesitation.

When passing by the second seat, a soft little hand suddenly grabbed the corner of his clothes. The girl raised her little face and asked crisply: "Dad, where are you going?"

"Stay here and don't move."

The male owner warned her and was about to leave, but the girl opened her mouth wide, and her thin, transparent wings pierced through the cloth and spread out, and a strong smell of blood emanated from her whole body.

Her mouth turned into a sharp blood-sucking mouthpiece, and new second hands grew on both sides of her body. But under the connection of Rambo, this almost completely transformed monster still maintained a certain degree of rationality and remembered the mission of blocking the opponent.

The male owner made an impatient sound and cast a cold gaze towards the protected brain worm.

Second floor.

Hiding in the room, Rex quietly closed the door and pretended he didn't exist.

Ten minutes had passed. The fake mother and the stubborn knight had been standing at the door of his house.

He wanted to go downstairs to attend the dinner, otherwise he would offend his fake father and the consequences would be serious. But these two people were blocking the door, and he really didn't want to run into their guns at this time.

But what are these two arguing about? Listening to their words, Ricks was completely confused.

While he was struggling, the hostess made another request: "It's time to attend the dinner, Ronald, we have to go there quickly, you don't want to delay the important entertainment."

The knight stood in front of her stubbornly, saying in all seriousness, "I think the safety of the young master is more important."

The hostess lowered her voice and said gently, "It's okay. Rex is healthy now and he will attend the dinner soon."

"I'm not talking about Master Ricks, but the other Master."

As a person of pure aggressive bloodline, Ronald knew that he had no way to deal with memory distortion.

So he chose the dumbest and simplest method. He threw away the protection of other memories and focused all his energy on the fact that "a young master is going to die."

As a knight, Ronald knew how much the lord and his wife loved their children. If their son died, they would be despairing, which was something Ronald could never tolerate as a knight.

In all the distorted memories, Ronald insisted that the hostess go visit the cursed young master right now based on this sentence. But there is no such "young master" in this castle.

No matter how the other party explained, as long as he didn't go to see the "Young Master" in a hurry, it would be inconsistent with his memory. Seizing this minor conflict, Ronald, whose memory was already blurred, stopped the hostess here.

He relies not on brains or abilities, but only on his passion and loyalty to his lord.

The hostess frowned, not expecting the other party to suddenly become so difficult to deal with. As time passed, she lost her patience. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she delivered a fatal blow to the loyal knight: "Don't you believe me? Ronald, you don't believe in the master you are loyal to."

The knight denied in panic: "Of course not! I will always be loyal to you two masters!"

"Then why do you bully me, question me, and treat me like a prisoner?"

Ronald opened his mouth and suddenly felt that he had gone too far. He did not give up his idea, but gradually changed it to: We can go to the dinner first and discuss this matter at the dinner.

Just as the knight was about to agree, the whole castle suddenly shook.

The hostess's face suddenly turned cold. She ignored the hesitant knight and turned to go downstairs. As she left, a strange premonition suddenly surged into Ricks' heart.

——To stop her.

——How can I stop a monster like her!?

He took a deep breath and thought that he might be crazy. But the strong urging premonition conveyed only one thing: stop the other party!

The man's expression changed constantly, and when he saw the hostess had stepped down the stairs, he suddenly opened the door, ran over, knelt down and hugged the other's thighs.

"mother--"

He shouted at the top of his lungs with deep emotion.

"You can't leave me alone!"

The hostess paused, and there was no power fluctuation in the opponent. But under a subtle influence, she actually stopped.

Strange, I should go downstairs now.

She looked down at her son's face and was able to confirm that she was absolutely not under any mental control. But from the aggrieved face of a grown man, the hostess suddenly felt a little pleased. She even thought that it would not be a problem to stay for a minute.

Who made her little son so pitiful and funny? If she didn't take good care of him, he would be ruined in the future.