Along with the subtitle prompt, a bit of knowledge related to blood sacrifices started to seep into Ivy’s mind.

Weird, bloody, crazy!

Ivy shivered uncontrollably, and her lips twitched. “Fearless and insane people only use their own blood to draw the sacrifice altar. Weak and vicious beasts use the blood of others to draw the sacrifice altar.”

“The two choices will produce different rewards, but the third reward result is a question mark for now. It’s just speculation.”

Ivy’s grades in Literature were mediocre, and she wasn’t sure if her interpretation was correct, but it was probably close.

“So, should I choose a person or a beast?”

“Logically, using someone else's blood to make a sacrifice should be a more pleasant experience.”

“But I don’t want to kill anyone. I can’t just choose a random target. I don’t have a reason to go crazy like that!”

Even with the resolve to make a [Death Sacrifice], Ivy’s moral compass still hadn't completely shifted towards the border of crime.

Ivy continued walking, her inner struggle raging on. Should she be a person or a beast? This was the question.

10 minutes later.

Ivy arrived in the parking lot and stared at the bicycle she had ridden for three years. Her thoughts were in turmoil.

“I'll figure out the person or the beast later. First, I need to swallow a pound of iron. Hmm, my bike is basically a ready-made source of ingredients. So, which part of the bike would feel best to swallow?”

Ivy had never scrutinized her bike before. Her gaze grew increasingly perverse.

The chain tensioner was too greasy, the frame was too hard and tough to chew, the brake lever was a bit rusty and tainted, the spokes were too sharp and would easily scratch the back of the throat…

Bike: “???”

30 minutes later.

The battered and bruised bike, hesitantly carrying Ivy, appeared at the entrance of the hardware store.

Ivy walked inside the hardware store, leaving her bike swaying in the wind at the entrance. It emitted a faint, shivering tremor.

But Ivy felt she had entered not a hardware store, but a gourmet restaurant. The shelves weren’t filled with cold, metallic items but with various delicacies, each one more exquisite than the last.

Ivy exclaimed excitedly, “Boss, which one tastes best?”

The middle-aged, bald-headed shopkeeper doubted his ears. “What?”

Ivy quickly corrected herself, “Like, the smallest one, the smooth, shiny, no-sharp-edges kind of iron product? You have that?”

The bald-headed shopkeeper hesitantly took out a small, iron bead from the cabinet. “This one?” he asked incredulously.

Ivy’s eyes lit up. “Great, this one. No, uh… cough cough… No sharp edges.”

The bald-headed shopkeeper wanted to say something, but stopped himself. “How many do you want?”

Ivy replied, “Could you give me a pound, please?”

The bald-headed shopkeeper was surprised. He had never seen a customer buy things by weight.

While the shopkeeper weighed the iron beads, Ivy, as if guided by some mysterious force, pulled out a claw hammer from the shelf. It was short and compact, perfect for hiding in her sleeve.

The bald-headed shopkeeper thought the customer was strange, but he didn't want to dwell on it. He took the money, carefully packaged the items in a black plastic bag, and handed them over.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Ivy, satisfied, picked up the bag, placed it in her backpack, and grabbed her bike. Then, like a flash of lightning, she was gone.

It had taken her half an hour to go, but she returned in only 20 minutes. Her beloved bike was panting furiously underneath her.

Ivy parked her bike back in the bike rack. Instead of returning to class, she wandered around the schoolyard alone.

“Iron is ready, just need blood!” Ivy muttered to herself.

She still hadn't decided whether to use her own blood or someone else's, but that didn't stop her from carefully hiding the weapon in her sleeve. She kept getting an urge to sneak into the shadowy corners of the schoolyard.

When she found no stray students, Ivy felt a mixture of disappointment and relief.

She went around like this several times. It was only after school, when the courtyard was completely empty, that Ivy emerged from a bush, her body weary.

Actually, she had encountered two opportunities.

One was a skinny, frail girl who was hiding in a corner, sobbing quietly. She looked as if she had been crushed by fate, pitiful and helpless. Ivy couldn't bring herself to hurt her.

The other, however, had a face full of ferocity, nothing like a kind soul. He looked like he wanted to kill and avenge the heavens, his muscles like steel. It was obvious he was a skilled martial artist, so Ivy had nowhere to strike.

“Damn it! I didn’t know killing people was so hard!”

Ivy’s arm, clutching the claw hammer, was numb. Her dry lips were bitten raw and bleeding.

“Forget it, it’s easier to rely on myself. If I’m going to swallow iron anyway, it won’t hurt to shed some blood. If the ritual fails, I won’t be able to save myself anyway!”

Ivy licked the blood from her lips. Her eyes held determination and madness. She turned and headed towards the abandoned storeroom behind the teaching building.

The abandoned storeroom used to be a martial arts training hall. A few years ago, it had caught fire, and it was said to have killed several students.

After the school built a new martial arts hall, the old one was turned into a storeroom for junk, then completely abandoned. It was rarely visited.

It was perfect for a dark sacrifice ritual.

The storeroom was locked, but that didn’t pose a challenge for Ivy. She took a shortcut through the back, climbed a tree to the second floor, and found a dusty, slightly ajar window. She skillfully pried it open. The latch came loose, and the window swung open.

Ivy pushed the window open, squeezed in like a cat, and carefully latched it shut again.

The storeroom was pitch black. In the corner, various debris was piled high. There was a musty smell of ancient relics in the air. The walls had been freshly whitewashed, but the cracks in the walls and the broken tiles still revealed faint traces of the great fire.

Some traces may be hidden, but they are destined to never be erased.

Like the great fire, like the scar on her wrist.

Ivy used the light from her phone to examine the chaotic, haphazard pile of junk. It was a maze that seemed to have been hastily built. Some passages were interconnected, while others were dead ends.

Following the image that remained in her memory, Ivy weaved her way through the labyrinth, deep into the room, pressing against the wall, entering behind a small wooden shelf, and walking for five meters.

Suddenly, the space opened up, revealing a small room blocked by a wooden frame.

It was another storeroom, filled with miscellaneous junk, but because the doorway was so narrow, large objects couldn't be brought in. There was a small patch of clear floor space inside.

It was about five or six square meters, big enough for a simple self-sacrifice ritual or to house an unclaimed corpse.

“I thought I would never come back to this place. But fate has brought me back.”

Ivy’s face was filled with emotion. She took two steps forward, slowly sat down, and naturally leaned against the cold wall in the same posture she remembered.

Her right hand searched the ground for a moment, and then her fingers found a blade. Dried blood clung to it.

It was her blood!

Or, more accurately, the original owner's blood.

Three years ago, the original owner had slit her wrist and died here, and Ivy had opened her eyes. Three years later, she was choosing the same place to slit her wrist.

Ivy didn’t want to die. She wanted to live, to be reborn through blood and iron.

[Blood and Iron: You must immerse yourself in blood and iron, complete a death sacrifice, to demonstrate your resolve and rebirth.

Completion Rewards: 1. Activation

2. Inheritance of Iron Eater

3. ??

Sacrifice Ritual as Follows: 1 pound raw iron, use fresh blood to draw the symbol of fate.]

(PS: The fearless and insane bathe in their own blood to be reborn. The weak and vicious beasts devour the blood of their kind to recover their souls. Different choices forge different destinies!)

Ivy took a deep breath, her fingertips turning white as she gripped the blade. Then, aiming for the scar on her wrist, she cut it open in the same spot.

The old scar reopened, and fresh blood oozed out, staining the blackened blade a vibrant crimson once again.

She tossed the blade aside and quickly grabbed the small iron beads, stuffing them into her mouth. She swallowed them whole, while reciting a strange incantation in a choppy, broken voice.

The incantation was deeply etched into her mind. As she chanted, it felt like an indescribable power descended upon the cramped space, guiding her blood, drawing a wicked pattern on the floor.

Ivy felt her eyelids growing heavy. She forced them open, but fear and anxiety were gone. All that remained was cold calmness.

She even managed a wry joke to herself, “If I open my eyes again, it better be me. It would be hilarious if I opened my eyes and someone else was there, using my body to take over.”

[Confirmation received, activation mission initiated!]

[Blood and Iron completion in progress......]

[1%, 2%, 3%.......17%, 18%, 19......32%, 33%, 34%.......]