"Believers, you need to offer these three things to relieve the oppression of this temple on you."
The incense ashes fell on the altar table. This time, the clay sculpture did not ask Wen Zhong to offer sacrifices to the ghost. Instead, it asked Wen Zhong to bring three things to it.
Wen Zhong looked at the list, and his expression became quite ugly, because the three things the other party needed were his stomach, a palm, and an eyeball.
Trading with a ghost is unequal and stupid, especially trading with a smart ghost, because the initiative in the transaction will never be in your hands.
But at this moment, Wen Zhong had no choice.
If he doesn't choose to trade, he will be trapped in this weird ruined temple until he dies.
This is absolutely unacceptable to Wen Zhong.
At this moment, he looked at the strange clay sculpture in front of him and fell into deep silence.
But soon, Wen Zhong seemed to have made up his mind. He raised his left hand and then closed his left eye.
"for you."
After a long while, he spoke these two words softly.
next moment.
With the sound of flesh and bones being separated, his left hand instantly fell to the ground.
At the same time, blood began to ooze out of the socket of his left eye, mixed with some pieces of flesh and dripping onto the ground.
These are two of the tributes, or, it can be said, sacrifices that this weird clay ghost needs in this weird deal.
At the cost of his left hand and left eye, Wen Zhong felt unprecedented pain, and his body was constantly trembling in the bone-chilling pain.
This was pain that was beyond his expectation. It was not physical pain, but more like mental torture.
"Stomach."
The incense ash was scattered strangely on the table, and soon the word "stomach" was formed.
It is obvious that this strange clay sculpture is urging Wen Zhong to complete the donation as soon as possible, thereby completing this strange and unequal deal.
"Give it to you too." Wen Zhong gritted his teeth, and his voice came out bit by bit from between his teeth.
The next moment, a trace of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, dripping continuously on the ground of the ruined temple, and soon formed a pool of blood.
The smell of blood filled the ruined temple, mixed with the decaying smell of earth, dust, and became even more suffocating.
"I've given you everything, now you can complete this transaction." Wen Zhong gritted his teeth and said.
He stared at the clay sculpture in front of him with his remaining right eye. Until now, he was still not sure whether the other party would really lift the oppression that this temple had on him.
This time he was still betting that even if this evil ghost had wisdom, it would still follow a certain pattern of actions like other evil ghosts.
However, before the clay sculpture responded, Wen Zhong heard a strange slamming sound at the door of the ruined temple.
"Bang bang bang——"
But soon the banging on the door stopped, replaced by the sound of nails scratching the wooden door and the sound of something heavy breathing.
This sound appears very suddenly, very regularly, and is very uncomfortable to hear.
The moment he heard the sound, Wen Zhong, with his intuition of dealing with supernatural events for a long time, was keenly aware that the thing scratching the door was definitely not a living person, and both sounds were filled with some kind of terrifying curse.
The sound could very well be a mortal curse.
The reason why Wen Zhong is fine now is probably because this ruined temple is suppressing him and protecting him at the same time.
"Damn it." Wen Zhong cursed in a low voice. His bad premonition had come true.
If the curse of this ruined temple is really lifted by this strange clay sculpture, then he may be immediately attacked by the evil ghost wandering outside the temple gate.
"Sure enough, making a deal with a fierce ghost is an unfair and stupid thing."
At this moment, the strange clay sculpture sitting on the offering table finally responded: "Believers, the incense has been sent, and the temple curse will be lifted immediately."
With the appearance of this string of characters, the suppressed scratching sound outside the door became more and more sharp, and the gloomy breathing became more and more heavy. The sound almost seemed to be ringing in Wen Zhong's ears. He must die.
The curse is coming to him.
"Is this a fierce ghost brought by the clay sculpture ghost to carry out the next transaction, or is this a supernatural event hidden on this light dust mountain?"
"Forget it, it doesn't matter what you are, just cut it down first and then talk about it."
Wen Zhong suddenly turned his head and stared sharply at the door of the ruined temple. After the curse of the ruined temple was lifted, not only did the terrifying ghosts be released, but the ghosts in his body began to revive.
"Hiss-"
As the skin and flesh surged, red threads as thin as hair were continuously torn out from under the flesh, and soon covered Wen Zhong's forehead, and at the same time, a crack opened between his eyebrows.
The ghost's supernatural eyes seem to have undergone some kind of mutation at this moment.
It seemed that he was gradually breaking away from Wen Zhong's control and recovering on his own, and that he had some strange connection with this strange ruined temple. However, it was more like he was fighting against some danger that occurred in his consciousness.
"Guitong's reaction is not quite right, it seems like some kind of omen."
Before Wen Zhong could think about it, something unexpected happened suddenly at the next moment.
A biting coldness suddenly emerged from his limbs. At the same time, Wen Zhong felt his head was dizzy, and fine drops of blood kept oozing out from his forehead, and even blood kept leaking out from his mouth and nose.
"What a joke!"
A trace of cold sweat mixed with blood was dripping down his forehead, but he could only watch the wooden door of this ruined temple being opened bit by bit by the evil ghost lingering outside, unable to move at all.
A bloody palm, as if it had been hit by a sledgehammer, squeezed out of the gap in the wooden door of the ruined temple and clung to the door panel.
Black blood was continuously smeared on the door panel as the palms were rubbed up and down, and the five pitch-black nails kept scratching the wooden door, and the terrifying scratching sound became increasingly clear.
This is a fatal curse, and it is attacking Wen Zhong, but Wen Zhong cannot move at this moment, and even the ghost he controls seems to have fallen into a deep sleep again, without any reaction.
Wen Zhong, who was in a desperate situation, did not notice that the face of the clay sculpture ghost on the altar table behind him began to twist unconsciously.
The facial features that were originally randomly kneaded out of clay now seemed to have the thoughts of a living person. A pair of eyes made of transparent stone stared at Wen Zhong's back, like a hunter sizing up his own prey.
For a moment, the clay sculpture ghost expanded and contracted as its body slowly raised an arm and grabbed Wen Zhong's neck bit by bit.