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墨書 Inktalez
Just as the Seventh Concubine was about to speak, Colonel Sun's guards suddenly brought in three camphor wood boxes.
The moment the lids were opened, a foul stench filled the entire mourning hall—inside were three corpses covered in white hair! uncle Zhao recognized one of them by the Swiss watch on its wrist; it was the accountant who had gone missing half a month ago.
"These three rascals wanted to burn President Li's account books." Colonel Sun lifted the Seventh Concubine's chin with the barrel of his gun. "This commander is helping you clear your doors; how do you plan to thank me, Lady Li?" The situation took a sudden turn.
The oil lamps on the offering table all toppled over at once, and the mixture of lamp oil and corpse blood ignited into eerie blue flames. Amidst the gasps of the crowd, the three white-haired corpses suddenly sat up, their decayed eye sockets fixed intently on Colonel Sun.
The guards hurriedly opened fire, but the bullets passed through the corpses, releasing puffs of black smoke. "Close your eyes!" uncle Zhao shouted suddenly. He saw the blood characters on Daoist Charred Corpse's talisman spreading across the beam; wherever those sulfur centipedes crawled, thick black liquid seeped from the cracks in the bricks.
The Little Golden Buddha on the Seventh Concubine's wrist suddenly cracked open, dropping out a bloodshot eyeball. In the chaos, uncle Zhao was knocked against a coffin. As Heavenly Blood soaked through his cloth shoes, he heard scratching sounds coming from inside the coffin.
"Master..."
He instinctively reached for the coffin lid, only to feel a sharp pain in his palm—embedded within the gilded patterns was a blood-stained fingernail, unmistakably belonging to a woman.
"Bang!"
The gunshot was deafening. uncle Zhao turned to see Colonel Sun lying on his back, a half-broken jade bracelet embedded in his forehead. The Third Concubine held up her bleeding wrist and sneered, "Did you think of today when you forced Xiao Cui to her death?" A white snake emerged from her severed wrist, swiftly coiling around the Seventh Concubine's neck.
The entire mansion began to shake violently. Seizing the opportunity, uncle Zhao crawled toward the side door but stepped onto something soft in front of the moon gate—it was the Fifth Concubine! She lay on her back in a pool of blood, her hands tightly gripping her torn qipao, five gaping wounds visible on her abdomen.
The most horrifying sight was that face, with the skin from forehead to chin completely missing, revealing a mass of wriggling maggots underneath.
"Help... me..." The voice of the Fifth Concubine emerged, distorted by the movement of the maggots, her toothless gums clicking together.
uncle Zhao stumbled into the corridor, only to find that all the Seven Chinese Scholar Trees, which the master had planted twenty years ago, had toppled over, their roots exposed and revealing eerie white bones beneath.
The rain poured down in torrents.
uncle Zhao huddled in the woodshed, trembling, when he suddenly heard a woman's voice singing from the attic above: "In July's half, a red shirt is tailored, needle and thread pass through the beauty's shoulder..."
The tune was from the Kunqu troupe invited to perform at the master's birthday banquet last year. But now the lyrics had changed to: "Paint human skin, depict bone and blood, a substitute exchanged for Vengeful Spirit's rest..."
Suddenly, a Barefoot Monk emerged from behind a pile of firewood, his robe caked with mud.
"Do you not understand?" he pointed at uncle Zhao's chest. "The Five-Clawed Golden Dragon you hold should have locked away the Seven Beautiful Corpses."
Rainwater trickled down from his broken bamboo hat, pooling on the ground to form a Bagua pattern. "Now that the formation is broken, those Seven..."
"Ah—!"
A piercing scream shattered the rainy night.
uncle Zhao rushed toward the source of the sound and saw the most terrifying sight of his life: the Seventh Concubine hung from a beam, her crimson qipao resembling an inverted mandala. Her skin had been completely flayed off and nailed to the wall in a Seven Star Pattern.
Even more horrifying was that on her skull, devoid of flesh, golden powder had been used to draw talismans.
When the Barefoot Monk caught up, uncle Zhao was trembling in front of the Human Skin and Seven Stars formation.
"This is the Seven Fiends Soul Locking Formation," the monk said as he lifted a piece of Human Skin with his bamboo staff. "Each piece of Human Skin represents a contract for an additional ten years of life."
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