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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Six
The overcast sky hung like a massive stone on the hearts of those below, suffocating and oppressive.
Liu lay on the bed, as lifeless as a flower that had withered before it could bloom, devoid of vitality.
Li Shouzhuo stood by her side, tightly holding her hand, which was cold and devoid of warmth, mirroring her pale face, as white as paper, lacking any color.
His heart was a tumult of emotions, torn between the anguish for his wife's plight and the deep-seated fear that she might once again transform into the specter of Liu Xu.
What troubled him even more was the lurking truth, like a ghost flickering in the shadows—would it eventually surge forth like a tide and completely engulf him?
Outside, the rain fell incessantly, its patter resembling a mournful dirge that echoed through every corner of the room.
Inside, the atmosphere was so heavy it felt like it could drip with water, stifling and suffocating.
In recent days, to save Liu, Li Shouzhuo had nearly worn out his welcome at every physician's door in the city. He had even spared no expense to invite a Taoist priest rumored to have connections with the spirit world.
The priest wore a green robe and wielded a Peach Wood Sword, pacing back and forth in the room as if searching for something.
He muttered incantations under his breath, speaking in an incomprehensible manner that left Li Shouzhuo bewildered.
Finally, his gaze settled on Liu’s bed. His eyes were sharp as an eagle's, seeming to pierce through all illusions.
"This place is heavy with Yin Qi; there may be ominous entities lurking here," the priest said in a deep, hoarse voice that sounded like whispers from hell.
Li Shouzhuo felt a chill run from his feet to his head.
Could it be... could it truly be the restless spirit of Liu Xu causing this?
For nights on end, he had been haunted by nightmares featuring Liu Xu's pale face, her hollow eyes, and her mournful question: "Brother-in-law, why did you kill me?"
“The lady has suffered a miscarriage, and her vital energy is depleted, making her more susceptible to malevolent forces,” the Taoist priest continued, his tone carrying an undeniable authority. “A special medicinal catalyst is required to dispel the evil and ensure her safety.”
“What kind of catalyst?” Li Shouzhuo asked urgently, feeling as if he were a drowning man grasping at the last straw, desperately seeking a glimmer of hope for salvation.
The Taoist stroked his sparse, graying beard, which appeared particularly eerie in the dim light.
“It requires the blood of a close relative,” he said slowly, “for it to be effective.”
Upon hearing this, Li Shouzhuo’s face turned ashen, paler than the rice paper before him.
A close relative…
The Liu’s parents had long since passed away; she had only him left in this world as her closest kin.
Could it be… that he must offer his own blood?
A chill surged from the depths of his heart, spreading through his limbs like ice.
He loved the Liu deeply and would give everything for her, but blood was the essence of life itself—how could he part with something so fundamental?
Thoughts swirled chaotically in his mind like boiling oil, tormenting every nerve in his body.
He recalled every moment they had shared—their acquaintance, their love—the warmth of her gentle smile, her soft calls, and the comfort of her nestled against him.
Yet, he also remembered that night—the night drenched in blood—Liu Xu’s twisted face, her eyes filled with hatred, and that piercing scream.
“Ah!” Li Shouzhuo suddenly clutched his head and let out a pained roar.
It felt as though his head would explode; those horrific memories surged forth like a tidal wave, nearly drowning him.
“Sir! Sir, what’s wrong?” A nearby servant rushed forward to support him.
Li Shouzhuo waved his hand, signaling that he was fine.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
For the Liu, he had to make a choice.
After a moment of hesitation, he gritted his teeth as if he had made a certain decision, and said in a deep voice, "Alright, I agree."
For the Liu, he was willing to do anything, even sacrifice his own life.
He only hoped that this blood from his heart could truly save his wife and drive away the relentless nightmare that haunted him.
Upon hearing this, the Taoist's eyes flickered with a barely perceptible light.
He took out a sharp dagger from his robe. Under the candlelight, the dagger glinted with a cold light that sent chills down one's spine.
The Taoist held the dagger and traced it across Li Shouzhuo's chest, as if searching for the best spot to strike.
Li Shouzhuo closed his eyes, gritting his teeth tightly, waiting for that moment to arrive.
He could feel the cold blade pressing against his skin, inching closer to his heart.
With a sudden "thud," the sound of the dagger piercing flesh was clear and jarring in the silent room.
Li Shouzhuo felt an excruciating pain tear through him, starting from his chest and rapidly spreading throughout his body.
He exerted all his strength to keep himself from groaning.
Blood flowed steadily from the dagger, its bright red hue resembling blooming red spider lilies—beautiful yet eerie.
One drop, two drops, three drops...
Blood dripped onto the bed of Liu, spreading out to form shocking blood flowers, a deep crimson that stung the eyes.
The Taoist carefully collected Li Shouzhuo's heart's blood into a small porcelain vial and then poured it into a bowl of medicinal soup that had already been prepared.
The soup, originally a dark brown, transformed into an eerie dark red upon the addition of the heart's blood, releasing a strong metallic scent.
"Hurry, give it to the lady," the Taoist urged as he handed the bowl to Li Shouzhuo.
Li Shouzhuo took the bowl, feeling as if it weighed a thousand pounds, pressing down on his chest and making it hard for him to breathe.
With trembling hands, he brought the bowl to Liu's lips.
However, Liu remained unconscious, her lips tightly sealed, unable to swallow on her own.
"Lady, please wake up. Drink the medicine; you'll feel better," Li Shouzhuo softly called out as he gently pried open Liu's mouth with a spoon, trying to pour the soup in.
But the soup flowed down the corners of Liu's mouth, staining her pale white nightgown.
The vivid red color was like sharp knives, mercilessly stabbing at Li Shouzhuo's eyes and slowly torturing his heart.
He held Liu tightly in his arms, as if she were a fragile porcelain doll, fearing that even a slight pressure would cause her to dissipate into thin air in this cold atmosphere.
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