Chapter 19: Death Game

As she spoke, the black mist swirling around her grew denser.

That black mist, like living vines, slowly writhed and silently coiled around the bodies of Ye Ning and Hua Niao.

The moment the black mist touched their skin, it brought with it a piercing chill and a faint, weak murmuring.

Ye Ning’s eyes gradually grew dazed, the clarity in her gaze covered by a layer of hazy mist, as if she was about to completely succumb in the next second.

The Witch curled her lips into a satisfied smile, her fingertips gently stroking her own chin.

This girl’s constitution was special, possessing an extremely strong absorption capacity for the Calamity Black Mist she released.

Her mental fortitude was also several times more resilient than an ordinary person’s—a seedling like this was practically a born Witch vessel.

With just a little guidance, she was sure to become the most loyal and most powerful believer.

She slowly reached out her hand, her fingertips carrying a cold sensation as they gently touched Ye Ning’s cheek.

Her movements were gentle, but her gaze was icy and hollow.

“Come, tell me, lost lamb.

Are you willing to abandon worldly distractions and become the most devout believer of the Angel?

Are you willing to follow in the footsteps of our god, bathe in divine radiance, and henceforth possess the power to overturn heaven and earth?

Are you willing… to stay by my side forever, to be my most obedient child?

Just nod, and from now on, you will possess the power to overturn heaven and earth. No one will ever be able to hurt you again…”

Ye Ning’s eyes remained confused, her lips slightly parting as if utterly bewitched.

She could only utter broken phrases, her voice weak and indistinct.

“I… I… don’t… want to!”

The girl suddenly reverted to her tearful state, hugging the Witch’s thigh with a look of weeping and wailing.

“Please, I beg you, beautiful lady, let us go. We won’t dare do it again.”

The Witch’s gaze darkened.

She didn’t look at the weeping Ye Ning clinging to her leg.

Instead, she turned her gaze to the five believers standing nearby, her tone flat but carrying an undeniable authority.

“You, all of you, come here.”

The Witch raised her hand and waved it.

The black mist in her palm instantly condensed, transforming into a bizarrely shaped black handgun.

“Let’s play a game.”

The Witch curled her lips into a smile again, but it grew increasingly cruel.

“This gun has a six-chamber cylinder. I only loaded one bullet. There are you, and these five believers here. Exactly six people.”

Her gaze swept over Sijuo and the other four cultists, her tone casual but laced with a deadly viciousness.

“Each of you will take a turn firing a shot at your own head. If you survive to the end, if you don’t die, I will let you and your companion leave.”

She casually tossed the handgun onto the ground in front of Ye Ning.

A soft clatter echoed, particularly sharp in the silent factory.

She paused, her gaze settling on Ye Ning, carrying a malicious tease.

“Of course, you can decide for yourself. Whether you will fire the shot at yourself, or let your dear friend here fire it at herself.”

Ye Ning jerked her head up, her face full of terror, tears still clinging to her cheeks.

Her lips trembled, and her body shook uncontrollably.

She instinctively looked at the still-calm Hua Niao beside her, her eyes filled with helplessness and struggle.

After a few seconds of silence, as if she had made some kind of decision, she tightly bit her lower lip.

Only when she tasted the faint metallic tang of blood did she speak, her voice trembling.

“I… I’ll do it. The trouble I caused, I’ll bear it myself…”

After saying this, she took a deep breath, trembling as she reached out to pick up the black handgun from the ground.

Her fingers turned white from the force.

She slowly pressed the muzzle against her own temple.

Her fingertips trembled uncontrollably, and even her breathing became rapid.

“But… but you have to promise me!”

Ye Ning’s voice trembled even more violently, her eyes holding a trace of humble pleading as she stared fixedly at the Witch.

“If I don’t die, you must keep your word and let us leave here! You can’t make things difficult for us anymore!”

“Fine, I promise you.”

The Witch said with a smile, her tone gentle but her eyes icy cold without a shred of warmth.

“As long as you survive, I will definitely see you out properly. I won’t go back on my word.”

Hua Niao, who had remained aloof the whole time, now had a rare hint of worry coloring her brow.

She looked at the trembling Ye Ning, her lips moving slightly, her voice carrying a trace of barely perceptible urgency.

“Ningning, you…”

“It’s okay, Hua Niao.”

Ye Ning turned her head, tears hanging at the corner of her eyes, forcing a strained smile onto her face.

Her voice carried a sob but feigned determination.

“We will definitely live. We definitely will…”

Bang!

A crisp gunshot echoed through the abandoned factory.

Bright red blood instantly gushed forth, splattering all over Hua Niao’s face.

The warm liquid slid down her cheeks, dripping onto the ground and blooming into blindingly bright crimson flowers.

“…”

Hua Niao’s eyes widened slightly, the calm on her face finally broken.

She lowered her head somewhat silently, looking at the bloodstains on the ground, her complexion slightly pale.

Her long eyelashes fell, concealing the emotions in her eyes.

Only her tightly pressed lips and slightly trembling fingertips were visible.

Ye Ning fell stiffly to the ground.

A hideous, bloody hole had exploded on her forehead.

Blood continuously welled up, staining her hair and school uniform red.

Her originally pretty face was now a mangled mess of flesh and blood.

The light had gone out of her eyes.

She lay motionless on the cold ground, appearing utterly lifeless.

“Hahahaha!”

A burst of abrupt laughter rang out.

Sijuo and the other four cultists looked at Ye Ning lying in the pool of blood.

Although their faces were still pale and their bodies trembled uncontrollably, they laughed maniacally as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

“Great! She’s dead! That ungrateful brat is finally dead!”

“That’s right! How dare she refuse the Bishop’s kindness and offend the Angel! This is the punishment she deserves!”

As they laughed wildly, they also railed against Ye Ning’s lack of appreciation, their voices full of fanaticism and venom.

It was as if Ye Ning’s death was the best offering to the Angel.

Just as the believers were freely cursing and venting their fear, the Witch slowly raised her head.

The smile on her face had long vanished, replaced by eyes as cold as ice.

The black mist around her grew even denser.

She spoke coldly, her voice not loud.

“Did I say the game was over?”

The laughing cultists instantly fell silent.

Their smiles froze, replaced by intense fear.

They hurriedly lowered their heads, not daring to meet the Witch’s gaze.

The entire factory fell into dead silence once more.

Sijuo swallowed hard, mustered his courage, and cautiously spoke, his voice trembling.

“B-but, Bishop, this girl is already dead… The game… shouldn’t it be over?”

“Continue.”

The Witch’s tone grew even colder, offering no explanation whatsoever.

The killing intent in her eyes, however, grew stronger.

“Your turn.”

A thin, small cultist, under the pressure of the Witch’s icy stare, trembled like a leaf.

He shuffled forward, trembling as he picked up the handgun from the ground.

His lips quivered as he laughed, trying to reassure himself.

“Hah… haha… Don’t worry, everyone. That girl just died. The bullet must have been fired. We’re safe… definitely safe…”

As he spoke, he tremblingly pressed the gun to his own temple, closed his eyes, and jerked the trigger.

Bang!

Another crisp gunshot.

That cultist fell stiffly into the pool of blood, an identical hideous hole exploding in his forehead.

He stopped breathing instantly.

Silence.

The remaining four believers’ eyes instantly filled with terror.

Their faces turned as pale as paper, bodies shaking uncontrollably.

The looks they directed at the Witch were full of despair and horror.

“H-how… how can this be…”

One cultist muttered, his face twisting in despair as his thoughts shattered.