"Why has death been scratched into the altar so many times? This does not look like a shrine for the divine at all!" The detective was leaning at the front. When he saw the handwriting inside the altar, his face blanched.
"Didn't the recording explain it? An altar placed on the table is for divinity, but altars left in the corner are for something else." A woman gathered her courage and squatted before the altar. She looked carefully inside. It was unknown what kind of material the altar was made of. It looked like wood, but it felt slippery to the touch like one was touching a pool of drying blood. Ever since the altar doors opened, there had been this strange smell that drifted out from it.
"Forgive me for saying this, but I don't think even a ghost would be willing to stay here." The police officer stood silently behind Chen Ge. "Other than that, the last time I was here, the bloody words weren't inside the altar."
