The Daily Life Of A Cyberpunk Magician

Chapter 265 - 182: Magic Can Be Down-to-Earth but Not to the Extent of Dealing with the Underworld_2
Chapter 265: Chapter 182: Magic Can Be Down-to-Earth but Not to the Extent of Dealing with the Underworld_2”So next, I must randomly invite twelve lucky audience members to come on stage to assist me.”

The words of Jiang Shu emanating from the speakers resulted in every member of the audience sharing a common suspicion internally.

”Sacrifice?”

”What does that mean?”

”Are you using us to make a sacrifice to the heavens?”

It was somewhat abrupt.

There was a chilling sensation.

But fortunately, Jiang Shu was merely joking with them.

”I’m just kidding with you,” laughed the voice from the speakers, then it continued, ”We only need to replace live humans with paper figurines for the sacrifice.”

No sooner had his voice faded than the faceless man pulled a knife from his person. Then, he walked over to the platform in the hall and lifted up an iron pot that had been placed there.

The pot seemed to weigh quite a bit; at least, when the faceless man lifted it, his right hand visibly sank.

Next, he raised the knife and slid it over the tiny Paperman, then pressed the tip of the knife against its neck, tilted it slightly so the middle of the blade faced the iron pot below.

The Paperman struggled and tumbled in the air, issuing a desperate, shrill scream, but it swiftly went still. Only a thin stream of blood flowed from the tip of the knife down the blade, dripping into the iron pot and forming a shallow pool of blood.

The scream echoed throughout the entire hall, its agonizing intensity unbearable, incessantly tormenting the souls of the audience members.

Many of them had expressions of shared sorrow and pity on their faces, as if they were witnessing the slaughter of some small animal.

However, herein lay the contradiction; these paper figurines were not even small animals, they weren’t even sure whether to classify them as a living thing.

Could red, blood from something as thin as a piece of paper actually flow?

This was truly beyond comprehension.

Yet, for some reason, the sight of bloodletting in a hall shrouded with such a dismal and oppressive atmosphere had made them feel a peculiar sense of beauty.

A morbid yet trembling beauty.

Rustic browns, heavy blacks, and glaring reds – several colors filled with negative emotions contrasted with each other, painting a picture with a bizarre predominant hue.

After collecting the Paperman’s blood, the figurine seemed to have died completely; they fell from the air and were caught by the faceless man, who then placed them into a coffin set aside.

”With the sacrifice complete, this blood becomes an important ingredient to open this special door,” Jiang Shu’s voice rang out again, and the faceless man, according to the words, moved toward a wall on one side.

There on the wall was a lengthwise dangling Paperman, different from the other three-dimensional figures; it was merely a flat Paperman, like one drawn on a sheet of paper and cut out.

Only its limbs were long and slender, but its head was only half-formed, with just two dabs of rouge and a bright red, sausage-shaped mouth on half the face.

At that moment, it hung motionless, pinned to the wall by a wooden nail, limbs drooping.

The faceless man placed the pot in front of its chest, bracing the pot with one hand, then pressed the sausage-mouth Paperman’s left hand to the right side of the pot, and its right hand to the left side of the pot.

With one hand steadying the pot and the other lifting up as if holding a sword, he swiftly traced motions in front of the Paperman.

Simultaneously, from the speakers, there came a firm and rapid ”Seal” from Jiang Shu.

Thereafter, the faceless man let go, yet the iron pot filled with the Paperman’s blood remained steadfastly vertical against the wooden wall; as though truly being held aloft by the lightweight hands of the Paperman.

”This...”

”Is it really being held up?”

”Just by that thin Paperman?”

”What’s going on?”

The audience members let out exclamations, as the scene was indeed quite eerie.

The flimsy Paperman and the weighty iron pot created a stark contrast, producing a potent visual impact.

It was as if witnessing a mantis actually stalling a vehicle.

”Is there a special silk thread holding it up?” An audience member thought of this and blurted it out instinctively.

”Couldn’t be, right? If it were just suspended by silk threads, the pot this heavy would sway violently, wouldn’t it?” Another member glanced at him, continuing, ”I had thought of that earlier too. The movements of the paper figurines in the air are very steady, not like they are manipulated by threads; otherwise, the air conditioning in this hall would have them shaking.”

”Could it be that these paper figurines are actually alive?” The first audience member was somewhat defiant.

”Such a thing... surely that’s impossible?” His neighbor was not very sure of his own words, after all, the things Jiang Shu performed...

They were always about turning the impossible into reality, continually refreshing their worldviews.

Although Jiang Shu always made the audience believe in science, his performances were always unscientific.

The faceless man stared deeply at the pot of blood, then reached out with both hands to scoop up a handful of blood, before opening his hands and let the blood seep through the gaps in his fingers.

The blood trickled down, eventually becoming a few sparse drops, which fell upon the pool with a pattering sound.

The intervals between the blood drops lessened, but the sound of them falling grew louder, like a heavy hammer striking, echoing in the ears of every audience member, and just when it seemed about to become deafening, it abruptly stopped.

Suddenly, the entire hall fell silent.

Not a sound could be heard, silent as a graveyard.