The phone call ended, and Yu Sheng held his phone in a bit of a daze. After two seconds, he lowered his head and looked at Erin (the host) by his feet: "I can't tell whether she's angry or not..."
"This time she really didn't curse, but I think it's just because she's used to it," Erin analyzed seriously, "On the bright side, at least you didn't suddenly get the urge to do something at midnight this time..."
Yu Sheng coughed twice, forcing down the slight guilt in his heart, and focused on the door in front of him.
The worn-out wooden door leaned against the white wall of the basement. The door frame and the surrounding floor were covered in eerie and complicated lines and symbols, with several candles burning quietly nearby. The air was faintly filled with the scent of spices (still from that five-yuan store batch).
Whether the Spirit Injection ritual would succeed was uncertain, but the atmosphere seemed quite appropriate.
