What do you mean by saying that the corpses I sew are all ominous creatures?

The hall was empty, with a few square tables set up, but there were no guests.

A faint aroma of tea filled the air.

Behind the counter, a young woman in a cheongsam was lounging around, idly painting her nails.

Hearing the noise, she didn't even look up, and said lazily, "We're closed. Please come back tomorrow for tea."

"I'm looking for someone."

I walked up to the counter and tapped the tabletop lightly with my fingers. "Jin Wanliang introduced me."

Upon hearing the words "ten thousand taels of gold," the woman paused in applying her nail polish.

She looked up and sized me up.

She was a very beautiful woman with an oval face, almond-shaped eyes, a beauty mark at the corner of her mouth, and a shrewd and charming look in her eyes.

"Oh, so it's that unlucky guy that Fatty Jin introduced...?"

She put down her nail polish and looked at me with interest. "Since he introduced us, you should know the rules, right?"

"Understand."

I nodded calmly. "Where is he?"

The woman extended her slender finger and pointed to the stairwell: "Third floor, the top-tier room. But... whether you can see him depends on your own abilities."

Thank you.

Without saying anything more, I turned and headed towards the stairs.

However, the moment I stepped onto the first step, I immediately sensed that something was wrong.

An invisible pressure suddenly surged from all directions, trying to push me back.

Some kind of formation?

I narrowed my eyes.

But with tricks of this caliber, they might stop ordinary people, but they can't stop me.

I kept my mind focused, kept my feet on the ground, and steadily stepped onto it.

The first step felt like stepping into a swamp, with an invisible force tightly binding my ankle.

I remained expressionless, but slightly increased the pressure on my leg, forcefully pulling my foot out and stepping onto the second step.

"Crunch—"

The old wooden planks groaned under the weight, as if they would snap at any moment.

At this moment, the surrounding air began to feel hot and dry, and an annoying tinnitus sounded in my mind.

It was the whispers of countless people, a mixture of laughter, curses, and... cries.

"Yangwa... why are you taking so long to get here..."

When I reached the fifth step, the scene before me suddenly distorted!

The dimly lit staircase was gone, replaced by the funeral hall from that night.

The lid of Grandpa's coffin had been lifted at some point, and he sat up straight, his cloudy eyes staring intently at me.

A strange smile played on his lips: "Yangwa, Grandpa's in pain... my whole body aches... come down and keep Grandpa company..."

However, I remained unmoved by what I saw.

He simply lifted his foot slightly, then stomped down hard!

"Bang!"

With this kick, I not only used force, but also mobilized the murderous aura that I had cultivated since childhood.

Corpse stitchers deal with corpses year-round, and they carry a certain amount of malevolent energy with them, which they use to ward off such illusory evil spirits.

The mourning hall in front of us shattered instantly.

I paused for a moment, then continued upwards.

Tenth level... Fifteenth level...

With each promotion, the pressure doubles.

By the time I reached the last five steps, I had started to sweat slightly.

Then, the scene before us changed again.

This time it wasn't a funeral hall, but that dark basement.

My cousin Chen Gang was covered in festering sores, turning into a grotesque monster that was neither human nor ghost, and he was lunging at me like a madman.

The second uncle stood in the shadows, holding a copper coin sword, a ferocious grin on his face: "Chen Yang, you killed Gangzi! You're the murderer! You killed your own cousin!"

"I killed him."

Despite the pressure, I replied calmly.

Then, his tone suddenly changed, becoming extremely sharp: "You're next! Chen Qingguo! No matter where you are, I will find you!"

After saying that, I closed my eyes and began to fully mobilize the evil energy within my body!

People in this circle only know a few basic skills and are far from being experts; they can only be called newcomers.

Those who are truly accomplished possess their own "qi" (vital energy).

This is the foundation of spiritual practice.

In Taoism, this is called: refining Qi.

My lineage of corpse sewing refines the Yin and evil energy within corpses.

One purpose is to ward off evil and protect oneself.

Secondly, it is used to suppress the corpse and to help the departed souls find peace.

As the murderous aura surged within me, the pressure on my body decreased dramatically. Taking advantage of this opportunity, I took a step forward and directly crossed the last three steps.

Once I stepped onto the third-floor floor, the tinnitus in my ears, the hallucinations before my eyes, and the pressure on my body all vanished without a trace in that instant.

The world has become peaceful again.

A burst of noise returned.

I turned around and looked at the door at the end of the corridor.

The door was ajar, and the sound of keyboard typing could be heard from inside, mixed with the impatient grumbling of a young man:

"Damn! You're already feeding? Top laner, do you even know how to play?! Go AFK!"

I froze for a moment.

Is this the master Jin Wanliang was talking about?

Why is this art style different from what I imagined?

I took a deep breath, straightened my slightly disheveled collar, and walked over.

As soon as I opened the door, a strong smell of instant noodles hit me.

The room was large, but it didn't look like a tea room at all; it looked more like... a private room in an internet cafe.

A huge computer desk with three monitors was placed by the window.

Meanwhile, a young man wearing a loose T-shirt, with messy hair and flip-flops, was sitting cross-legged in a chair, frantically typing away at the screen.

Hearing the door open, he didn't turn his head, but just mumbled something indistinctly while chewing on a sausage:

"The fact that you made it up here shows you're skilled and ruthless. Find yourself a seat and wait until I finish this team fight before we talk."

After saying that, he ignored me and focused on playing his game.

I wasn't annoyed. I grabbed a folding stool and sat down behind him.

It also makes it easier for me to observe this so-called "expert".

After sitting down, I looked around at my surroundings.

At first glance, this is a typical otaku's den.

Instant noodle boxes scattered all over the floor, a mountain of comic books, dirty clothes strewn about, and an air purifier buzzing loudly.

But as I observed more closely, my eyebrows twitched slightly.

The room may be messy, but it's messy in a very organized way.

Although the three monitors blocked the window, they were positioned at the entrance to the room, and the light from the screens replaced natural light, creating an artificial energy-gathering space.

The comic books on the ground weren't just randomly thrown around; they were stacked in a specific arrangement, vaguely forming the outline of a nine-square grid, protecting the gaming chair in the center.

Even the instant noodle bucket that hadn't been thrown away was placed in the "White Tiger position," which perfectly suppressed the evil energy coming in from the doorway.

This is no doghouse; it's clearly a small feng shui formation that was set up on a whim!

"Interesting," I thought to myself.

The fact that this young man can integrate feng shui into such mundane aspects of life, to the point of doing it at will, shows that his skill level is probably higher than I imagined.