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

This isn't spiritual practice; it's practically self-harm.

But I am not prepared to back down.

The feeling of that malevolent energy about to go berserk within me gave me a sudden flash of inspiration.

I tried to guide the evil energy back to my little finger, using the method of dispersing evil energy into this section of my little finger.

Fifteen minutes later, there was still no discomfort or backlash!

I could feel that the part that I had "stitched up" with my own evil energy had become extremely resistant to evil energy.

It's not even fair to call it resistance; you could say it doesn't reject it at all!

Does that also mean that if I could use this method to sew up my entire body, the backlash from the Demon-Slaying Blade would be completely ineffective against me?

He sewed himself up to strengthen his body, and then added the enhancements from the protective aura.

He stepped on his right foot with his left and flew into the sky!

After laughing for a while, I gradually calmed down.

It's still the same problem.

At this moment, the energy between his brows had been completely exhausted. If he were to sew up his entire body, he didn't know how much energy he would have to expend.

Moreover, even sewing such a tiny part almost drove me to madness.

The more important acupoints later on will definitely be even more dangerous.

The road ahead is long and arduous.

After thinking about it, I put away the bone needles and placed them close to my body.

After taking a shower, I went straight to sleep.

……

The next few days passed uneventfully, and the daytime even gave me the illusion that I was just an ordinary mortician.

I report to the funeral home at eight o'clock sharp every morning. Occasionally, I'll be busy with some work, but when there's no work, I can slack off until the end of the workday.

But at night, things are quite different.

In the past few days, the bone needles have attracted three more wandering spirits.

Like the first one-armed ghost, they were all incomplete.

This gave me a deeper understanding of the concept of "soul fragmentation".

My grandfather used to teach me how to sew up corpses, saying that the dead should be left with a complete body, otherwise they wouldn't be able to be reincarnated into a good family.

At that time, I didn't understand. I always thought that since the soul was illusory, how could there be such a thing as a complete corpse?

But after sewing three ghosts by hand these past few days, I understood.

Ghosts are indeed a mass of yin energy, but they are an "imprint" of the state of a living person in the instant before death.

If a person is instantly decapitated by a sharp blade or run over by a high-speed train, the extreme physical impact will carry the fear and pain of the deceased before death, directly imprinting it on their soul.

In the community, this kind of wound is called a "cause-and-effect wound".

Ordinary gatherings of yin energy cannot repair this causal break, because in the ghost's self-perception, it is already broken.

The second ghost I sewed was a laborer who was cut in half by a steel cable at a construction site.

When he floated in, his upper and lower body were almost connected by a wisp of faint gray mist, which looked like it was about to completely dissipate.

Using malevolent energy as thread and the Ghost Gate Needle as guide, I forcefully stitched forty-nine stitches into his illusory lumbar spine.

With each stitch, he would let out a piercing wail that seemed to pierce the soul.

But I didn't stop. I calmly comforted him, "Bear with it. Once it's sewn up, you'll be able to walk more easily."

When the last stitch was pulled in, his severed soul was finally reconnected seamlessly.

The bone needles fed back a chilling aura once more. To be on the safe side, I did not immediately choose to consume this cold aura to begin stitching myself.

As time went by, the cold current between my brows became increasingly concentrated.

……

Just as I got off work on Thursday evening, Lu Yan's SUV was parked in front of the funeral home.

She wasn't wearing her heavy combat uniform today; instead, she wore a dark blue trench coat and had her hair tied back.

When she saw me get out, she rolled down the car window and pointed to the passenger seat.

"Chen Yang, get in the car. I need your help with something urgent."

I opened the car door, got in, and fastened my seatbelt. In a calm tone, I asked, "Director Lu, what case is this? The Jiangcheng Bureau has just calmed down for a few days. Aren't you, as the acting director, going to take a break?"

Lu Yan started the car and suddenly made a U-turn.

"I also want a vacation, but some people won't allow it."

She frowned, one hand on the steering wheel, the other hand handing me a photo.

"Take a look at this first. It was transferred from Shanghai, but the person died in our Jiangcheng territory."

I took the photo.

The photo shows a young man, about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with delicate features and even a scholarly air.

But his death was extremely gruesome; he was curled up in a huge, transparent glass tank, his skin a waxy yellow.

Most striking was his chest, which had been neatly cut open, revealing his heart missing and replaced by a roll of yellowed old newspaper.

"Is this...evil magic?"

I asked softly.

"If it's just ordinary sorcery, the Folklore Bureau's action team can handle it."

Lu Yan sighed and accelerated quickly.

"But this body is very special. His name is Su Wen, and he is a well-known expert in the restoration of ancient books in China."

Three days after his death, his body came back to life on the way to the morgue.

I raised an eyebrow: "A zombie?"

"It's not a simple case of a zombie coming back to life."

Lu Yan turned her head and glanced at me, her eyes filled with complex emotions.

"Not only did he survive, he also strangled the two forensic doctors in charge of transporting him."

The most troublesome thing is that he has now locked himself in a secret room in a private library, and no one can get in.

Our men tried a direct assault, but the house was protected by some extremely sophisticated enchantment; any Taoist spells or talismans that approached it would become ineffective.

I leaned back in my chair, watching the street scene rushing past the window, and said, "Director Lu, you called me in because you think only I can do this job?"

"right."

Lu Yan nodded, her tone becoming serious.

"The core logic of the restrictions in that secret room is not only aimed at living people, but also at 'qi' (vital energy)."

Taoist magic is pure energy, and talismans are spiritual energy; both will be rejected.

But you're different, Chen Yang. The murderous aura emanating from you... is a kind of deathly aura.

"It seems that Su Wen was repairing an extremely strange tattered scroll before he died."

We need you to go in, not to kill him, but to find a way to lock his resurrected corpse back in.

You exude a strong aura of malevolence; the mere movement of your body can mask the presence of any living person. You are the most suitable candidate among all the people I know.

After hearing this, I smiled helplessly, taking it as a compliment from Lu Yan.

"Alright, since Director Lu has spoken, I can't refuse."

"But let me make this clear first: if the corpse is too gruesome, I can't guarantee I'll make it out unscathed."

"Don't worry, I'll keep things under control outside."

Lu Yan patted the pistol at her waist, her eyes resolute.

The car soon entered a quiet old villa area amidst the bustling city.

This is the former concession area of ​​Jiangcheng, where plane trees line both sides of the street.

The car stopped in front of a three-story red brick building.

Police tape had been put up around the small building, and several men in plainclothes with sharp eyes were talking in hushed tones. Judging from their demeanor, they were probably from the Bureau of Folk Customs.

I got out of the car with Lu Yan, and as soon as I stepped into the courtyard of the small building, I felt an extremely uncomfortable atmosphere.