This floor was very spacious; upon entering, one immediately saw a corridor and a door. On both sides of the corridor were murals depicting immortals dancing and playing music, as well as giant, colorful paintings of flying deities and the like—gorgeous and mysterious. However, streaks of red blood marred these beautiful murals, as if someone had dragged something bleeding from one end all the way to the other. Even more terrifying, the bloodstains were very fresh.

Evelyn Foster began to recall the sight of the sect leader before entering—was there any sign of bleeding or injury? She wasn’t the only one thinking this, because she could clearly feel a certain senior sister beside her start to tremble.

Their footsteps sounded unusually loud here, as did their heartbeats. When they reached the door, it suddenly opened a crack, and after the last in line, Evelyn Foster, entered, the door quietly closed behind her.

Inside, Evelyn Foster saw that big black snake again, coiled around a pillar in the room. Besides the snake and themselves, there was one other person in this empty space.

That person sat on a chair directly in front of them and said, “Come here.”

It was the first time Evelyn Foster realized someone could make those two simple words sound so gloomy and chilling.

The class monitor led everyone forward to pay respects to their ancestor. “Greetings, Grandmaster.”

Evelyn Foster followed along with the crowd, sneaking a curious glance forward, and caught sight of a foot so pale it was almost frightening.

This person was barefoot on the deep black floor, with faint blue veins visible beneath the skin. Next to the bare foot trailed a wide, black-patterned robe, and as the hem swayed slightly, it revealed the other foot. Evelyn Foster noticed a red string tied around his left ankle, threaded with a wooden-colored Buddhist bead.

For some reason, that thin red string gave her a heart-stopping feeling; the more she looked, the harder it was to breathe.

Suddenly, the ancestor above stood up. Evelyn Foster saw him walking toward her, his feet half-hidden by the black robe, finally stopping in front of the senior sister beside her.

“Such nerve.”

After he said this, Evelyn Foster felt some kind of liquid splatter onto her. Bright, thick blood spread across the smooth black floor, soaking into the white skirt that Evelyn Foster had spread out beside her.

Forcing herself to kneel beside Evelyn Foster: “……” Ugh.

I can’t take it.

I really can’t take it.

Someone’s dead!

I’m so scared! Someone’s dead! Ah!

She felt like throwing up, but her mind was also acutely aware that vomiting now might lead to some terrible consequence, so she instinctively swallowed it back down.

…Damn, that feels even more disgusting!

The senior sister’s corpse collapsed limply, falling right next to Evelyn Foster’s hand. She watched with her own eyes as the sister’s face slowly changed, and in the blink of an eye, became someone else. Huh? Face-changing??

Someone nearby cried out in shock, “Th-this isn’t Junior Sister Wanling, who is this?”

Everyone else was panicking. “How did this person sneak in? How did no one notice?”

The ancestor, who had just killed someone, moved again, stepping over the blood and corpse to stop in front of Evelyn Foster.

Evelyn Foster: “……” Is he looking at me? No, ancestor, please don’t look at me!

“Such nerve.”

Hearing this, Evelyn Foster felt half her soul freeze. Before the unknown sister beside her was killed, the ancestor seemed to have said the same thing.

But how was she being bold? She hadn’t done anything! Granddaughter is innocent!

It was like before getting an injection—knowing the needle was about to pierce her, her whole body became hypersensitive. That’s how she felt now, her attention laser-focused, bracing herself for pain from somewhere.

After a moment, a hand reached out. That hand pinched her chin, lifting her face.

When the pale, icy-cold hand touched her chin, Evelyn Foster felt her hair stand on end, cold sweat instantly breaking out on her back—just like when that big black snake had slithered past her earlier.

Forced to stiffly raise her head, she finally saw the ancestor’s face clearly.

All her previous guesses were wrong—it was actually a pretty boy.

His skin was white as snow, hair black as ink, lips red as blood. The description sounded just like Snow White herself.

Evelyn Foster looked into his eyes. It felt like an instant, or maybe an eternity, before the ancestor suddenly let go and sat back down. He’d seemed fine just now, but now his face twisted with pain and agitation, a trace of red appearing at the corner of his eye.

“Get out, all of you, get out!”

He suddenly exploded, scaring everyone. The girls all turned pale and hurriedly retreated, even the big black snake seemed frightened, tucking its tail and dragging the not-yet-cold corpse along as it followed the crowd out.

He went crazy just like that—was this ancestor mentally ill or something? Evelyn Foster left in a daze, only coming back to her senses after going down the stairs and standing at the base of the tower.

Huh? She wasn’t dead?

She raised her hand to wipe the cold sweat from her forehead, and when she lowered it, she saw red on her palm.

It was the blood that had splattered on her when the girl beside her died.