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

Thick smoke and dust instantly filled the entire bottom of the well.

The beam of the flashlight shone on the dust, forming murky streaks of light, instantly reducing visibility to its lowest point.

I instinctively held my breath, squinted slightly, and raised an arm to shield my eyes from the flying pebbles.

Just then, Jin Wanliang's extremely anxious voice suddenly came through the walkie-talkie at my collar, accompanied by piercing static from the microphone:

"Brother Chen! Brother Chen! What's happening down there?"

What a loud commotion! The ground even shook!

Are you alright? Answer me! Answer me right now!

Immediately afterwards, Li Qing's voice also chimed in:

"Chen Yang! The yin energy at the wellhead suddenly surged around a bit. What happened?"

Do you need me to get a crane to lift you up?

Hearing the shouts from the two people above, I quickly steadied myself and pressed the talk button on the walkie-talkie to reply:

"I'm fine, Lao Jin, Li Qing, don't panic."

I wasn't controlling my strength when I pulled something out just now, and I accidentally knocked down a piece of the wall at the bottom of the well.

I am safe and unharmed. Please do not pull the rope.

"Phew...you little rascal, you scared this old man to death."

Jin Wanliang let out a long sigh of relief from the other end of the walkie-talkie.

"It's good that you're alright, it's good that you're alright. Be careful down there, don't force it."

After calming the two people upstairs, I put down the walkie-talkie and was about to clear away the dust to check the hole I had blasted.

However, before I could make my next move, something unexpected happened.

The black knife that I had been holding tightly in my right hand suddenly seemed to come alive.

Suddenly, a gentle force of struggle came from the hilt of the knife.

I was slightly taken aback, and the grip on my hand loosened a little. The black knife actually flew out of my hand!

It did not fall to the ground, but remained suspended quietly in mid-air.

Immediately afterwards, the blade trembled slightly, and a pure yin energy was released from the blade.

But this yin energy did not carry the aggressive and violent killing intent of before; instead, it transformed into a gentle yin breeze.

The gust of cold wind swept outwards from the black blade.

The thick smoke and fine dust that filled the bottom of the well were instantly swept away by the gust of cold wind.

Suddenly, the vision became clear again.

After doing all this, the black sword that had been hovering in mid-air actually flew slowly to my side, like a child eager for praise.

Then, it circled my body three times slowly.

Finally, it rested quietly on my right side, the hilt tilted slightly downwards, as if waiting for me to grasp it again.

Seeing this, a look of surprise flashed in my eyes.

This knife has actually developed such a clear spiritual quality!

In the understanding of both Taoist and folk communities, ritual implements are divided into many types.

However, most magical artifacts are just inanimate objects; they require practitioners to infuse them with magical power to function.

Only a very few top-tier magical artifacts that have undergone a long period of time or absorbed special energy will develop a faint trace of intelligence.

This is the legendary "spirit of the weapon".

The black blade attacked me earlier because it instinctively repelled the malevolent energy on my body that didn't belong here.

Now, after I forcibly penetrated and completely crushed it with my baleful aura, the trace of intelligence within it has clearly been subdued by me and has chosen to acknowledge me as its master.

Just now, it released its yin energy to help me disperse the smoke and dust, which was its way of showing me goodwill.

I stretched out my right hand and gently grasped the hilt of the knife that was suspended in mid-air.

It was still icy cold to the touch, but the biting repulsive feeling was gone. Instead, there was a strange, unspoken connection.

"A fine knife," I thought to myself.

However, at that moment I had no extra time or energy to savor the joy that came from the black knife recognizing its master.

As the smoke and dust were dispersed by the black blade, the flashlight's white beam shone unimpeded into the more than one-meter-wide hole that had just been blasted open by the blade's edge.

After the well wall was blasted apart, what appeared before me was not the thick layer of soil I had expected.

What comes into view is a kind of soil that is strangely dark red and loose.

And among this soil, there are countless white bones mixed in densely.

Perhaps the soil was too loose, or perhaps the destructive power of that blade of light was too great.

Just as I shone my flashlight beam, a loud "crash" sound rang out, and a large chunk of soil at the edge collapsed.

Several incomplete skeletons mixed in with the soil slid directly down the hole to the bottom of the well, scattered less than half a meter from my feet.

I lowered my eyes slightly, my expression calm, and did not back down because of this sudden change.

As an embalmer who has worked in a funeral home for a long time and has inherited the skills of the mortician, my hands have come into contact with countless corpses and severed limbs.

The few skeletons before me were not enough to cause any dramatic fluctuations in my emotions.

I slowly squatted down, put the flashlight in my mouth, and used one hand to gently pick up a piece of skull that had slipped to my feet.

The surface of the skull had turned a grayish-brown, powdery color.

It feels very light in the hand, and the bone is so brittle that it seems like it would crumble into dust with the slightest pressure.

Although the skeleton appeared to be very old, my keen sense of touch and perception still allowed me to detect a faint, almost fading resentment deep within the bones.

I gently stroked the top of the skull with my fingers.

There was a crack about ten centimeters long and deep enough to see the bottom.

Its edges are not smooth, which is obviously caused by being violently chopped by some heavy blunt object or thick-backed sword before its death.

I then examined a section of thigh bone next to it, which also had clear chopping marks.

Then I stood up, picked up the flashlight again, and pointed the beam of light deeper into the hole.

The density of bones on this blasted-open section of soil was astonishing.

They are like the fillings in a mille-feuille cake, layer upon layer, pressing and twisting against each other.

Some skeletons still retain the posture of struggling desperately and trying to climb upwards before they died.

But in the end, it was mercilessly buried by the soil.

At the very edge of the flashlight beam's reach, the skeleton continued to extend deeper, with no end in sight.

Judging from the density of the piled bones and the thickness of the soil layer, this place is definitely not just an ordinary mass grave.

Although ancient mass burial sites were often hastily filled with remains, the bones were still relatively scattered.

The current method of landfilling, characterized by concentrated, high-density landfills and clearly exhibiting signs of unnatural deaths...

This place is probably a mass grave, or even a grave for thousands of people!