Many of the seasoned hunters seemed oblivious to the looming danger, whiling away the time with cards and dice.
Oliver, however, had no appetite for such diversions. He closed his eyes, resting and centering himself for the ordeal ahead.
Night fell swiftly.
The four teams set out, arriving at a site prepared long in advance.
"Whooosh... whooosh..."
Not wind, Oliver realized, but the unique song of bamboo.
Before they reached their destination, the distinctive sound carried to them.
In a cleared space stood an altar of emerald bamboo, crowned with an immense drum.
Every five meters around the perimeter, modified singing bamboo burned with ethereal flames, bells dangling from their peaks.
"Ding... ding... ding..."
As they drew near, Oliver was struck by the altar's vast scale. Two young women in white robes, reminiscent of ancient priestesses, knelt upon it.
They sat back-to-back, eyes closed in deep meditation.
Tiny bells adorned their hair, hands, and feet. Each breeze set them tinkling, though the sound was faint compared to the bamboo's resonance. Only up close could one discern their delicate chimes.
Oliver glanced skyward, estimating it to be around eight or nine o'clock. The ceremony wouldn't commence for another hour.
Without further ado, the four teams dispersed, each guarding a side of the altar.
William ascended alone, taking the central seat. His aura seemed to merge with the altar itself.
"Captain," Oliver whispered, "what's the deal with those two girls? Are they conducting the ceremony?"
He knew of ancient traditions where priestesses donned specific colors for various rituals.
But this was another world entirely. The specifics remained unclear.
"William's the true conductor," Luke replied quietly. "They're sacrifices, lures for spirits."
"Their ceremonial robes, empowered by the altar, draw spirits en masse..."
"Why fixate on that? Focus on how you'll slay spirits later. Special recorders are in place. The more you kill, the more contribution points you'll earn post-ceremony!"
Spirits, Luke explained, were the lowest tier of malevolent entities. They posed minimal threat alone. Only after absorbing resentment, evolving into vengeful spirits or worse, did they become truly dangerous to cultivators.
"So the 'purification ritual' is just baiting and slaughtering spirits," Oliver mused, his lip curling. "How crude..."
He glanced again at the priestesses. Their fate was pitiful, but Oliver could barely protect himself. How could he hope to save others?
...
As the clock neared ten, moonlight cast an eerie pall.
"Ding ding ding!"
Silver bells chimed.
The two priestesses rose, beginning a slow dance around the great drum. Their clear voices rang out:
"Wandering souls, where will you rest?"
"Three souls approach, seven spirits near."
"By wild rivers, in mountain graves."
"Terror scattered true souls far and wide."
"If not now, when will rebirth come?"
A fierce wind howled.
Their incantations, amplified by the Light Pearls, echoed for a thousand meters.
Within the ceremony's influence, an aura of sacredness and grandeur overwhelmed the senses.
The soul-calling ritual took effect almost instantly.
Amidst the resonating bells, spirits materialized in droves, soon packed densely around the altar.
Oliver channeled his internal energy, striking at an approaching elderly spirit. White vapor erupted where his fist connected, as if battling an unseen force. He poured five silk-like energy strands into the strike, finally overpowering it.
The old man's spirit contorted, then exploded into nothingness.
But as Oliver beheld the countless spirits beyond, horror etched itself across his face.
How could they possibly contend with such numbers?
"SLAY!" William's voice boomed from the altar's apex, echoing through the Light Pearl construct.
Invisible sound waves rippled outward, annihilating spirits wherever they passed.
The initial wave of spirits, seemingly insurmountable moments ago, vanished in an instant. This was the true power of the Light Pearl Altar.
The subsequent influx, while still daunting, no longer appeared invincible.
Everyone drew Light Pearl swords from the earth, charging towards the spectral horde.
Oliver caught a glimpse of William from the corner of his eye. Fiery red lines etched themselves across the master's forehead. The aura he exuded was so terrifying that even a hundred Olivers would prove utterly insignificant. They simply didn't inhabit the same realm.
Shuddering, Oliver drew his own Light Pearl sword and engaged the spirits.
Ordinary weapons proved useless against incorporeal foes. Cultivators had to rely on bare-handed strikes infused with internal energy or specialized spirit-slaying implements.
Oliver wasn't sure if folkloric methods like black dog's blood held any efficacy here, but Light Pearls were undoubtedly potent.
With the Light Pearl Sword, Oliver needed only a small internal energy boost to amplify his strikes. No longer did he have to pour vast amounts of energy into each blow. His consumption and strain decreased dramatically.
All four teams battled furiously. The priestesses never ceased their spirit-summoning dance, drawing ever more spectral entities. Occasionally, spirits slipped past the hunters' defenses.
Yet during their soul-calling dance, the priestesses wielded extraordinary power. Any spirit approaching them shattered instantly.
The price was evident in their increasingly pallid faces.
They had to maintain this grueling dance for a full hour, consuming tremendous physical energy. Add to that the ritual's spiritual backlash, and Luke's "sacrifice" label became painfully clear.
Even if they survived, their lifespans would likely be drastically shortened. A painful, illness-ridden death awaited them.
This realization spurred Oliver to redouble his efforts...
He didn't fully grasp his own anxieties until a distant scream jolted him back to awareness.
A hunter had fallen prey to a vengeful spirit, clearly more potent than its lesser kin.
This hunter, known for exceptional speed and agility, found himself paralyzed the moment the vengeful spirit grasped his hand.
In an instant, swarming spirits engulfed him. Even a desperate burst of internal energy couldn't save him.
Oliver watched in horror.
What had he been thinking? Fighting harder would only hasten his own demise. It wouldn't change the fundamental nature of this grim affair.
Without addressing the root cause, all efforts were mere self-consolation!
"I died... so miserably..." Vengeful spirits wailed.
As more ordinary spirits perished, they coalesced into these advanced, vengeful entities. They radiated murderous intent, their strength a full tier above common spirits. Hunters expended far more internal energy to dispatch them.
Oliver faced one such foe. Though his speed and strength far surpassed the spirit's, he still burned through fifty silk-like energy strands before vanquishing it.
As vengeful spirits proliferated, Oliver had no choice but to tap his basic internal energy core, enhancing himself in all aspects.
"Wolf Chase!" He employed the technique repeatedly, clearing ordinary spirits around him with increasing speed.
Basic internal energy far outstripped silk-like strands. Channeled through the Light Pearl Sword, it dramatically boosted its lethality. A few strikes sufficed to destroy an ordinary spirit.
But basic internal energy lasted only a minute – not a resource to be squandered carelessly. After felling several foes, Oliver's basic energy depleted. He hastily consumed prepared monster meat, rapidly restoring his reserves.
This regenerative ability gave him an edge. Even mid-battle, he could replenish his energy.
Though it seemed a massive expenditure, Oliver's condition actually surpassed most of his teammates. He maintained ample energy for self-preservation.