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

The feeling of falling suddenly disappeared, replaced by a warm, orange-yellow halo.

A familiar scent lingered around my nose—it was the smell of aged mugwort mixed with corpse oil and the distinctive odor of cheap tobacco.

This is... the back room of the old house?

I looked around blankly.

Rows of rusty iron hooks hung on the mottled walls, and an ever-burning lamp burned in front of the shrine in the corner, with long red candles trailing behind them.

On that dark, square table lay the tools I knew best: an ink line, a scalpel, and a tangled mess of sheep gut.

"What are you standing there for? Hand me the scissors."

The voice rang out again, tinged with impatience.

I was jolted and stiffly turned my head.

Under the dim light, an elderly man with gray hair, wearing a gray long gown, was standing with his back to me.

He sat on a bench, his back slightly hunched, his shoulders swaying with the movements of his hands—a unique posture of a corpse stitcher.

"Grandpa...?"

My voice was trembling, and my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

The old man didn't turn around, but continued to work diligently, muttering, "Is this a soul-calling ritual? Hurry up, if this stitch breaks, the King of Hell will deduct your merits in the afterlife."

I instinctively reached for the corner of the table, where the large, gleaming pair of scissors was.

The touch was cool and real, it didn't feel like a dream at all.

I picked up the scissors and handed them over with trembling hands.

Grandpa took the scissors, snipped the thread with a "snip," and then slowly turned around.

On that wrinkled face, there was a pair of reading glasses with one leg broken, which was tightly wrapped with tape.

His eyes were still so cloudy, yet they exuded a reassuring warmth.

"Look at you, how old are you, still crying."

Grandpa reached out to wipe my tears, but pulled his hand back halfway, wiping it on his long robe. "My hands are dirty. I just sewed up a drowned one. It's bad luck."

I couldn't hold back any longer. I knelt down with a thud, hugged his leg, and burst into tears.

"Grandpa! I...I don't want you to die! I haven't even had a chance to fulfill my filial duty to you! That beast, Uncle...and my cousin...I..."

I poured out my pent-up frustrations, confusion, and anger to my grandfather in a rambling manner.

Outside, I am a ruthless corpse sculptor who is decisive and ruthless, someone who dares to fight evil cultivators to the death. But in front of my grandfather, I feel like I am still that child who can only hide behind him and watch him sew corpses.

Grandpa didn't say anything, he just let me hold him, his rough hand gently patting my back, again and again.

Just like when I was a child and I was afraid of the dark and didn't dare to sleep, and he would coax me to sleep.

After a long while, my crying gradually stopped.

Grandpa sighed and pulled me up.

"Yangwa, you used that trick, didn't you?"

His voice suddenly turned serious.

I wiped away my tears and calmed myself down: "I used it... otherwise I would have died."

"That's forbidden magic!" Grandpa suddenly raised his voice, slamming his pipe heavily on the table.

"What did I tell you about the last few pages of 'The Heavenly Garment Strategy'? It's for the dead! For a living person to wear it is like having a death wish!"

"But..." I wanted to explain.

"No buts."

Grandpa glared at me, but the sternness in his eyes quickly turned into heartache.

"Look at you now, your soul fire is almost extinguished. If it weren't for some good fortune and someone keeping you alive, you'd be over there in line for soup by now."

He pointed in the direction of the shrine.

I looked in the direction he was pointing, only to find that the memorial tablet on the shrine was empty.

"Grandpa, this..."

"Don't look at it, it's for you." Grandpa said something surprising.

I was so scared I jumped.

Grandpa laughed, a sly laugh: "Afraid of death? That's right. We morticians are used to life and death, so we should have even greater reverence for life and death."

Yangwa, remember this: evil energy is like a double-edged sword.

You can use it to kill people, but it can also turn around and devour you.

You must learn how to control malevolent energy.

As he spoke, he pulled my hand over and placed the scalpel into it.

"Controlling malevolent energy?" I was stunned.

"But aren't we corpse stitchers supposed to cultivate malevolent energy?"

"That's different." Grandpa shook his head.

"The evil energy we usually cultivate is stored in the dantian and circulates along the meridians."

However, the art of dispelling evil is different.

The art of warding off evil spirits involves using one's body as a corpse and evil spirits as clothing, actively dispersing evil energy into the limbs and bones.

Although it can temporarily and significantly boost one's strength, the body will slowly absorb this malevolent energy, much like a sponge.

Once malevolent energy enters the brain and the mind loses its composure, you're not far from going insane.

"The evil energy has entered my brain... No wonder I felt a voice speaking in my ear when I used the Demon-Slaying Technique." I murmured.

Grandpa nodded, gently tapping my head with his pipe: "That's right, that's the desire in your heart. It will gradually lead you astray. Control it, don't let it control you."

After saying that, Grandpa patted my head and started walking out of the main room.

I reached out to grab him, but Grandpa waved me off.

"Yangwa, Yin and Yang are on different paths. Grandpa has a few last words to tell you."

Remember, sewing up a corpse involves sewing up flesh and blood, but also the cause and effect.

Grandpa's figure receded further and further away, his voice became ethereal, and the surrounding scenery began to ripple like water.

"You only learned how to sew up the dead before; now, you need to learn how to sew up the living."

Treat yourself like a corpse, and use that malevolent energy as thread to stitch yourself up, stitch by stitch, until this tattered body is completely sealed shut!

"Sewing a living person...treating oneself as a corpse..."

I muttered to myself, as if I had grasped something crucial.

"And another thing," Grandpa's figure began to become transparent, and the surrounding walls began to collapse, revealing the pitch-black void outside.

"That scarred kid may look fierce, but he's not a bad person at heart. And that kid surnamed Li is talented; don't mistreat him."

"grandfather……"

I reached out, trying to hold onto the fading scene before me, but all I grasped was a wisp of smoke.

"Yangwa, you still have a long way to go."

Grandpa's voice grew fainter and fainter, as if it were drifting from the horizon. "Originally, I didn't want you to use the 'Heavenly Garment Strategy' because firstly, forbidden techniques are harmful to the body, and secondly, there's a karmic connection regarding this book."

But since we can't avoid it now, let's make good use of it.

Yangwa... stick to the right path, Grandpa is leaving now.

"grandfather--!!!"

I tried desperately to catch up, but the floor beneath my feet suddenly disappeared, and a strong feeling of weightlessness washed over me again.

……

"Drip—drip—drip—"

Rhythmic electronic sounds echoed in my ears.

A pungent smell of disinfectant instantly filled my nostrils.

I suddenly opened my eyes and was greeted by a snow-white ceiling.