The courtyard gate, sealed for three whole days, finally opened, and someone stepped in, treading on the rays of the rising sun. They headed straight for the altar. Ethan Clark, hearing the commotion, scrambled and crawled behind the curtain to hide, watching as two old women rolled up all the square drapes outside, and continued moving inward, lifting each layer of hanging curtains, letting sunlight pierce through the altar.

Ethan Clark was forced to hide in the innermost layer, but even so, she still couldn’t conceal her figure. Seeing that the last layer of curtain was about to be lifted, Ethan Clark, in a panic, ran to the side of the red cocoon. The “god,” whose cocoon had not yet fully broken, had most of his body exposed. The red silk threads forming the cocoon piled up as they unraveled, stacking beside him like a quilt, and Ethan Clark dove right in.

Chapter 5 04 Clan God

The moment Ethan Clark burrowed into the “quilt” made of red silk threads, she regretted it.

Only then did she belatedly recall what those red threads were actually made of. Her body instantly stiffened like a stone, her back arched, frozen in a prone position, not daring to move.

What made her even more rigid was that her hand and head seemed to have touched another body inside the red cocoon. The sensation of being pressed up against something icy cold was so vivid, so intense that she could barely breathe, her heart nearly stopping.

Before she could scare herself to death, the innermost curtain had already been pulled open, sunlight pouring in, flooding the surroundings with brightness.

The two old women entered, each holding a stick of incense. They lit the incense at the outermost layer, knelt devoutly, prostrated themselves, pressing their foreheads to the ground, their voices filled with worry and caution, “Clan God, this time your slumber was so brief—was it because the matter of the offering prevented you from fully recovering?”

After a period of silence, Ethan Clark heard a voice coming from directly above her.

“Indeed, I have not recovered.”

The voice was like a hidden spring, gentle and slow.

With this reply, Ethan Clark felt the god beside her move, as if sitting up, and so inevitably, he touched her as well. Ethan Clark only felt a light, floating sleeve brush across her cheek, making her scalp tingle instantly—probably because she’d developed a psychological shadow toward white sleeves after that night.

Sensing something foreign beside him, the god seemed to pause for a moment, but then, as if nothing had happened, sat up from the overlapping red silk threads. He sat in the center, just like a true deity in the altar, making the two clan women outside dare not lift their heads to look directly at him.

“All of this is because the The Foster Family disciples responsible for the offering were negligent. They will all receive the punishment they deserve.”

“That you could not recover your full strength is our failure. Please, punish us.”

The two elderly clan women trembled, filled with remorse and self-blame. In her own state of shock, Ethan Clark heard their hoarse voices and felt as if they were already crying.

“A minor punishment as a warning—let this not happen again.” The gentle, slow voice sounded again, instantly dispelling the gloom in people’s hearts.

No matter how the two elderly clan women outside reacted, Ethan Clark had already relaxed naturally. It was truly a strange thing, because she was leaning against the back of a god who ate people—by all logic, she should have been terrified. Yet she seemed bewitched, not even catching the brief conversation that followed, only noticing that the two clan women had withdrawn.

She still lay there motionless, but the god in front of her moved away. A hand emerged from the white sleeve—snow-pale, frost-cold—brushing away the pile of red threads from her face.

A few nights ago, she had nearly been eaten by this god, but at that time his figure and movements were all extremely strange. Now, however, just by appearance, he looked much more human.

He appeared to be a youth of seventeen or eighteen, about the same age as her younger sister. Beneath the cover of long black hair was a strikingly handsome young face. He seemed like a smiling idol that had sat in the altar for a thousand years, maintaining an unchanging expression. The swirling incense smoke had cultivated a pair of tranquil eyes, and when he gazed at her, it was as if he was gazing at the mortal world.

Ethan Clark met his eyes in a daze, feeling as if she saw many drifting, chaotic things, but never the sense of a “person.” Even though he had a human appearance, those eyes gave off a distinctly inhuman feeling.

The statue atop the high platform had come to life, sitting beside her, asking in a calm, smiling voice, “Why are you lying here?”

The tangled red threads automatically wriggled and slipped into his two wide, loose sleeves.

“I—I am…” Ethan Clark sat up, lowering her head awkwardly, not daring to look directly at this god who exuded an inexplicable aura of authority. “I think… I am an offering.”

“I see.” He spoke unhurriedly, his tone utterly calm.

Listening to these gentle words, Ethan Clark felt a surge of hope in her heart. She pleaded, “If you are a god, could you please let me leave here safely?”

The clan god still smiled as he asked her, “Have you ever killed anyone?”

Ethan Clark answered without concealment, “Yes.”

Clan god: “Everyone harbors evil thoughts in their hearts, but ‘evil’ only gathers in the body after harming others. No matter the reason, if you have killed, then you possess enough evil for me to devour—yet you are somewhat unusual.”