Late at night, near the central park, a van was parked on the dark street.
The car body is old, the paint has fallen off a lot, and there are spots of rust...
Inside the car, three men sat in the back seat, staring at a screen in front of them with serious expressions.
One of the scarred men breathed heavily and blurted out, "Damn it!"
He looked restless.
Even so, he tried to control himself and kept his voice as steady as possible:
"What on earth is this guy thinking? Bringing people into the area to perform a sacrificial ceremony to communicate with the gods. Isn't he afraid of causing unbearable consequences?"
A man wearing sunglasses beside him nibbled his finger, the light from the screen reflected off his sunglasses. He listened to the scarred man's complaints and said calmly:
"This is what happens to the poor people who have lost God's protection. They struggle in despair."
The last person had a patch over his left eye and was thin, but he had an extremely fierce aura and spoke bluntly:
"How about I go in and kill all these people?"
The scarred man panicked:
"Don't!"
"calm!"
He walked past the man in sunglasses in the middle and grabbed the thin man. He had been emotionally unstable before, but now he turned around and tried to persuade him earnestly:
"The Arbitration Committee has issued a three-fold warning: we are not allowed to cause frequent bloodshed!"
The thin man reached into the eye patch with his left hand and rummaged around, his tone quite impatient:
"I'll strangle them all to death, and not a drop of blood will be shed!"
The man in sunglasses slowly turned his head. His eyes couldn't be seen clearly through the sunglasses, and his tone became playful:
"I wanted to see if they would get a response."
He pointed at the screen:
"The footage from the drone shows that the ceremony is nearly complete and is now in its final stages!"
After hearing this, the two turned their gazes back to the screen.
The thin man's left hand was still inside the blindfold, picking at it.
Pah~Puchi…
The man in sunglasses said expressionlessly: "What are you doing?"
"My brain itches, so I scratch it through this hole."
"Um?"
"In the back...it's not enough. I want to turn my head inside out."
The scarred man was furious:
"You can't just stick two fingers in there and push your ass in there. Can't you just wiggle it like I do?"
After saying this, he twisted his neck violently, trying to set an example for the other party, and kept saying:
"Is it that difficult?"
There was a crisp sound.
The scarred man's spine was broken by his own strength, and he slumped down on the chair.
The thin man, with red blood dripping down his left hand, leaned forward and fell headfirst onto the backrest of the front seat.
The man in sunglasses pinched his forehead, sighed softly, ignored the two corpses on his left and right, and continued to stare at the screen.
The camera of the high-altitude drone clearly transmitted the situation inside the park.
The woods and flower beds that once served as greenery had long been flattened to create a flat piece of land.
Hundreds of people gathered here, wearing vintage robes and surrounded by a circle of torches.
In the center was a beautiful woman with long hair. She looked at the drone in the night sky, gently raised her rusty mechanical right hand, and gave a friendly greeting to the person behind her.
There is a huge formation carved under the feet of this group of people. The densely packed patterns are so complicated that it makes people dizzy at a glance.
The people around them, wearing long robes, held red candles in their hands and knelt down in unison with pious expressions.
Apart from the rustling sound of clothes rubbing against each other as they knelt, no one made a sound. The whole scene seemed like some kind of pantomime performance.
The woman in the center has her arms raised high, her expression fanatical.
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