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墨書 Inktalez
I took a moment to steady my emotions, my voice trembling as I asked, "So... what will happen to me?"
Seeing that I had calmed down slightly, the old woman slowly approached, her gnarled fingers gently wiping away the tears on my face. Her tone was surprisingly tender, as if she were soothing a frightened child.
"Don't worry, dear. You'll only become my age," she said.
As she spoke, a strange excitement flickered across her wrinkled face, as if this were a grand celebration for her rather than a horrifying curse.
I gazed at her face, etched with deep lines and creases that seemed to record the passage of time, resembling an ancient map covered in mysterious patterns.
I couldn't fathom becoming like that, with youth slipping away in an instant, replaced by the shadows of aging and death.
"The effects of the potion... might not take hold immediately," the old woman seemed to see through my thoughts and said slowly.
"There’s still about half an hour left," she paused before adding, "Enough time for you to reminisce about the good old days."
In despair, I closed my eyes and let the tears flow freely. Memories flooded my mind like a revolving lantern, each scene flashing by.
The laughter of childhood, the innocence of youth, the passionate fervor of young adulthood—now all have transformed into distant memories.
I seem to see myself slowly walking toward the abyss of aging, my physical abilities gradually declining, my skin becoming loose, my hair turning gray, ultimately resembling the old woman I am now.
A wave of dizziness washes over me, as if I am caught in a bottomless whirlpool, being pulled downward by a powerful force.
I desperately try to grasp something, only to find it all in vain.
My hands fall weakly at my sides, and my body gradually loses sensation.
I feel like a withered leaf, drifting in the wind, eventually landing in the soil and turning to dust.
The old woman slowly sits down on the seat at the center of the altar.
Time ticks away, and the air around the altar seems to freeze, eerily silent.
Only the flickering oil lamp in the center crackles softly, casting an eerie light on the old woman's wrinkled face, making it appear even more sinister.
"What’s happening? Why is there no change at all?"
I murmur to myself, an ominous premonition rising within me.
As time passes, my body remains unchanged.
The air around the altar grows increasingly oppressive.
"How is this possible..."
The old woman's initially confident expression gradually gave way to confusion. She murmured to herself, her voice trembling as if she could not accept the reality before her.
"What went wrong...?"
Suddenly, she stood up, her withered fingers gripping the armrest tightly, the knuckles turning white and making a cracking sound.
Her murky eyes widened in disbelief, fixating on me as if she were trying to see right through me.
"Why... is there no change?"
Her voice grew sharper and higher, eventually escalating into a hysterical roar.
The air around the altar seemed to tear apart with her voice, a powerful pressure hitting me like a wave, nearly suffocating me.
The old woman leaped from her seat like an arrow released from a bow, rushing toward me. Her bony hands clawed at my collar like eagle talons, lifting me off the ground entirely.
I looked at her in sheer terror; her face was so close that I could see the fury and madness in her murky eyes, as if she intended to devour me whole.
"Speak! What is going on?!"
"What kind of monster are you! Why is the ritual ineffective against you?!"
She howled fiercely, spittle flying from her mouth and splattering onto my face.
I trembled uncontrollably, unable to utter a single word. The sharpness of her voice echoed in my ears, making my eardrums buzz.
My breath quickened, and the world before me began to blur. I felt as if I were suffocating.
Her nails dug deep into my skin, sending a wave of intense pain through me, forcing a cry of agony from my lips.
I was gripped by terror, tears streaming down my face as I shook my head desperately.
Crimson blood trickled down my pale skin.
The searing pain made me gasp for air, beads of sweat forming on my forehead.
The places where the old woman had clawed at me felt as if they had been seared with a hot iron, burning fiercely.
Blood dripped—one drop, two drops, three drops...—continuously flowing and staining the old woman's gnarled fingers.
The old woman seemed startled by the sudden blood; her murky eyes widened in shock.
She trembled as she released her grip, staring at her fingertips stained with bright red, her brow furrowed tightly.
Her eyes moved erratically, darting between Yang Mengfan and her own bloodied fingers, filled with a complex mix of emotions.
Suddenly, her gaze turned fierce, like a coiled snake ready to strike its prey.
She abruptly lifted her head, glaring at Yang Mengfan with a look full of malice and fury, as if she intended to devour him whole.
"Good Grandson, it seems you really care for your little girlfriend! You’ve used your blood to replace hers; do you think it would be so easy to deceive me?"
The old woman's voice was hoarse and sharp, sending chills down one's spine.
As she spoke, she approached Yang Mengfan, her steps unsteady yet exuding an undeniable sense of oppression.
Instinctively, Yang Mengfan wanted to evade the malicious gaze of the old woman, turning his head away.
The old woman extended her gnarled hand and grasped Yang Mengfan's wrist tightly, like a vice, holding him firmly in place.
"Let me see, let me see how much you've sacrificed for her," she said, her voice laced with a chilling smile.
She turned Yang Mengfan's palm over and scrutinized the still-bleeding wound with great interest.
The bright red blood stood out starkly against his pale palm, resembling a blooming Manjusaka—bewitching and eerie.
The old woman's gaze lingered on Yang Mengfan's injury for a long time, her eyes flickering with complex emotions.
It seemed she was contemplating something or perhaps relishing in some twisted pleasure.
The room was enveloped in silence, broken only by Yang Mengfan's heavy breathing and the old woman's cold laughter, intertwining like a sinister symphony from hell, leaving one feeling utterly unnerved.
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