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

This residential area is quite old; it doesn't even have a proper gate or security booth.

Several gray, six-story brick-and-concrete buildings are crammed together in a staggered manner.

The plaster on the walls was peeling badly, revealing the red bricks underneath, and all sorts of haphazardly strung electrical wires hung in mid-air like a spider web.

Following the address given by Director Wang, I found Unit 3 of Building 4.

The hallway was dimly lit, and the air was filled with a musty smell from years of lack of sunlight and the smell of cooking oil wafting from someone's home.

The walls were covered with tiny stickers of lock picking and drain cleaning tools.

I slowly walked up the somewhat damaged cement stairs, my footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

When I arrived on the fourth floor, I stopped in front of room 402.

This is a somewhat old-fashioned, dark red security door, covered with scratches, and the peephole is covered with a thick layer of dust.

However, before I had even stood still in front of the door, I keenly caught a subtle movement coming from inside.

I squinted slightly, focusing my attention on hearing and perception.

There are people in the room just one door away.

But that was definitely not Lao Zhang.

Old Zhang is a middle-aged man who often stays up late and has poor health.

Yesterday, he was also struck by a severe attack of water-related evil energy.

Normally, his breathing should have been heavy, short, and somewhat weak at this time.

But now, the breathing I hear through the door is very long and steady.

Moreover, each inhale and exhale possesses a rhythm that ordinary people simply cannot have.

In addition, I also sensed a very subtle but real chilling aura in the room.

This aura is different from simple yin energy or evil energy; it carries the unique energy of a living person who has practiced some kind of unorthodox technique.

In the entire 402 room, only this one person's presence was felt.

Old Zhang is not home.

Upon seeing this, my gaze sharpened slightly.

It seems that Old Zhang has indeed run into trouble.

I stood outside the door, my mind racing with calculations.

Old Zhang was just an ordinary mortician at Jiangcheng Funeral Home. He was honest and law-abiding, and not very brave.

Aside from commuting to and from get off work, I basically stay at home.

How did he suddenly get into trouble with people in the industry, and why were they coming to his door directly?

Could it be because he sewed up the corpse that was pulled from the reservoir yesterday?

I frowned slightly, feeling that this reason was somewhat far-fetched.

The water-evil resentment on the corpse yesterday was indeed very strong, and I also saw the evil cultivator holding a short club made of ferocious beasts and using dark green runes through the flashback.

If that evil cultivator left some kind of tracking method on the corpse, it's possible that they could trace it back to its source.

But there is a major flaw in this.

Old Zhang only did a little initial work on the corpse before being overwhelmed by the malevolent energy.

The entire subsequent stitching process, including completely suppressing the resentment on the corpse, was done by my own hands.

Even the trace of eerie green aura remaining on the corpse was eventually extracted and taken away by the people Fang He brought.

Logically speaking, if the other party really wanted to cause trouble, they should have followed the scent to find me at the funeral home or Fang He at the Bureau of Folk Customs.

Why bother looking for Lao Zhang, an ordinary person who gave up halfway?

Moreover, and most importantly, Lao Zhang is not at home right now, so where could he have gone?

Were they kidnapped and moved by the person inside the door, or have they already met with misfortune?

In order to get to the bottom of things and understand the reasons behind it, an idea gradually emerged in my mind.

At that moment, I did not choose to break down the door immediately.

Although I could kick open this security door with one foot, that wouldn't fit into my plan.

So, I suppressed all the malevolent energy emanating from my body, pretended to be an ordinary visitor, raised my hand, and knocked on the dark red security door with normal force.

"Thump, thump, thump."

A dull knocking sound echoed in the hallway.

As soon as I knocked on the door, I clearly sensed that the footsteps of the person inside, who had been walking around in the living room, stopped instantly.

Immediately afterwards, his originally long breaths became even weaker, and his aura instantly receded to its extreme.

It was as if one's entire being had become part of the room's environment.

This reaction made me even more certain that the person inside the room was definitely a practitioner within the circle.

Because ordinary burglars would never use this method of concealing their presence.

This deepened my doubts.

What is the purpose of a cultivator who knows how to conceal their presence sneaking into the home of an ordinary mortician?

In order to deliberately alert the other party and put more psychological pressure on them, I paused for a few seconds before raising my hand again.

This time, I knocked harder and knocked on the door twice more.

"Knock knock knock! Knock knock knock!"

The knocking this time sounded rather urgent, particularly jarring in the quiet hallway.

"Old Zhang! Are you home? It's me, Xiao Chen! The director noticed you weren't at work and sent me to check on you!"

I deliberately raised my voice and shouted through the crack in the door.

The room remained deathly silent, without any response.

But I could sense that the atmosphere hidden in the living room had become even more tense.

Like a fully drawn bow, ready to shoot a deadly arrow at any moment.

now it's right.

When faced with unknown and potentially exposed risks, if people remain in a passive waiting state, their psychological defenses are prone to fluctuation.

What I need to do is hand over the initiative to him, making him think he has a chance to turn the tables.

To give the people inside enough time to react and set up a trap, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the bone needle.

Next, I held the bone needle and slowly inserted its tip into the old lock hole of the security door, and began to pry open the lock.

I've become very skilled at using this old technique in handling various emergencies before.

Thanks to the bone needle's excellent hardness and penetrating power, plus my current five senses.

It only takes two or three seconds to silently pry open the pins of this old-fashioned cross lock.

But I deliberately didn't do that.

I controlled the force in my wrist, allowing the bone needle to slowly rotate inside the lock cylinder.

He deliberately rubbed the metal pellets together, making them produce a series of clear "click, click" sounds.

I deliberately slowed down the process of picking the lock.

It gives the impression of an inexperienced thief struggling with the lock, sweating profusely.

This tactic worked.

After hearing the obvious sound of someone picking the lock at the door, the person inside finally couldn't hold back any longer.

With my eyes closed, I could clearly "see" his aura, which had been lingering in the center of the living room, shifting as I sensed the coolness of the air.

Instead of running to the window, he slowed his pace and slowly approached the entrance door.