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墨書 Inktalez
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing seven beautiful masks sewn onto his forearm. "Years ago, my master split the 'Seven Star Life Borrowing Technique' in half; the portion you stole must be returned."
uncle Zhao's temples throbbed as memories from the Year of the Republic surged forth: in the flickering light of the scripture hall at Longhu Mountain, he had indeed given half of the ancient text to the girl who had jumped into the river.
At that moment, the birthmark on his skin burned like a brand. He tore open his clothing, revealing a blood-red star map on his chest and abdomen—the missing lower half of the Seven Stars formation!
Suddenly, the armored vehicle turned its cannon.
The bald man's aide brought forth the Liujin Box, and Zhang Tianshi extracted a yellowed silk scroll.
As the upper and lower halves of the star map merged, the entire Purple Gold Mountain began to tremble, and blood columns rose simultaneously from all seven positions.
The fetus doll in uncle Zhao's arms shrieked and exploded, its fragments turning into black mist that enveloped the mountaintop.
"The Chairman intends to use the Dragon Vein to change fate; it requires a sacrifice of one hundred thousand souls."
Zhang Tianshi swung his peach wood sword, and amidst the blood mist, scenes of Jinling City appeared—the crowds at Xinjiekou were bursting into sprays of blood one after another.
uncle Zhao looked down to see his hands becoming transparent; the Vengeful Spirit he had sunk into the river years ago was now emerging from every pore.
The noon bell suddenly rang out across the mountains.
Taking advantage of Zhang Tianshi's distraction, uncle Zhao hurled a Copper Coin String towards the center of the blood formation.
The phantom of a Barefoot Monk materialized in the bright light; human teeth from a Buddhist Rosary shattered and flew, each one piercing into designated locations.
A muffled sound came from beneath, and Zhongshanling Altar collapsed with a thunderous roar as seven red lacquer coffins burst forth from the earth.
"How dare you destroy my decades of hard work!"
Zhang Tianshi's Daoist robe billowed as countless pieces of Human Skin flew out from his sleeves.
Amidst the swirling Human Skin, uncle Zhao glimpsed a horrifying truth: each piece bore an Azure Sky White Sun Emblem on its back, signed with different years as "Presented by Xuan Zhen."
The date on the most recent one was merely three days ago!
The armored convoy suddenly turned its guns.
The bald man boarded his vehicle amidst a throng of guards, his Zhejiang-accented curses fading with the wind.
Zhang Tianshi tore off his mask to reveal a face indistinguishable from that of high-ranking officials in the Nationalist government. "A different skin is still..."
Before he could finish speaking, all seven coffins opened simultaneously, and the corpses submerged in blood transformed into identical replicas of Xiao Cui!
At that moment, copper coins converged into a Bagua formation, and uncle Zhao's birthmark emitted a golden light.
He recalled the words inscribed on the stone wall of Longhu Mountain: "Twin Reverse Stars, all return to silence," and suddenly plunged his hand into his chest.
Amidst the excruciating pain of his soul being torn apart, he saw another version of himself rise from the pool of blood—it was Zhang Xuanming, who had coldly watched the bride march to her death six years into the Republic.
"Brother, it's time to wake up."
uncle Zhao crushed the copper coin at his heart. Atop Purple Gold Mountain, a burst of light in the shape of Seven Stars erupted, and Zhang Tianshi's Daoist robe turned to ashes in the blinding radiance.
Suddenly, the corpse in the Seven Red Coffins opened its eyes, its nails growing long and piercing into the earth's veins, drawing in all the boiling malevolence of the Dragon Vein.
As dusk fell, uncle Zhao's lingering soul leaned against the ruins of the observation station. He gazed toward Zhongshanling, where a new construction monument stood, its inscription glowing with a bloody hue under the setting sun.
The foreman in a long gown was directing laborers to bury seven gilded jars; his profile bore a striking resemblance to Zhang Tianshi. When he accepted a confidential letter from a guard, he wore an emerald ring on his thumb.
The last rays of sunlight sank into the Yangtze River, and the glazed tiles of Meiling Palace shimmered with an eerie blue.
Before uncle Zhao's spirit scattered with the wind, he saw women dressed in Qipao emerge from the shadows of the phoenix trees. They hummed Kunqu as they ascended the steps, their Soul Lock Chains clinking in the moonlight.
The leading woman turned back with a smile, fresh blood splattered at her lips—clearly reminiscent of the new president of the Women's Promotion Association featured on that morning's fallen Central Daily News.
At the foot of the mountain, a Rickshaw Puller found a rusted copper box. Inside lay a tattered note that read: "...After the Double Tenth Festival, the Seven Fiends will return. At the time of changing eras, remember to burn..." In the distance, a Blue Sky with a White Sun Flag rose above the Presidential Office, as officials clad in Zhongshan Suits streamed into the hall. A gust of wind lifted one high official's sleeve; the Seven Stars pendant from his Soul Lock Chain flashed with blood light, mingling with a sigh that echoed through the waves of the Yangtze River.
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