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Zhao Changhe took a deep breath and stepped forward slowly.
The altar was not tall; it was low and wide. It was surrounded by a pool of blood filled with an unknown quantity of blood. The pool released a pungent metallic smell. Blood circled the altar, with strange blood-red patterns extending toward the central array plate, seemingly nourishing it.
This blood seems like it’s human blood. Who knows how many people have been killed just to get this amount of blood… But it doesn’t seem fresh. It seems that the Blood God Cult’s killings have reduced over the years. Most of this blood should have been collected a good while back.
Whether such offerings worked, Zhao Changhe could not tell. He wondered if the sacred artifact could get angry.
Suppressing his disgust, Zhao Changhe stepped onto the narrow bridge over the blood.
The nature of the Blood God Cult had always been like this. Things had improved over the years, and criticizing it was rather pointless. If he could become the interpreter...
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