Chapter 117: Chapter 96: The Ritual

By the fish pond next to the artificial hill on the first floor, the old monk remained motionless, and neither the Skinning Master nor the other Evil Spirits inside the Opera House could break through the golden insect circle surrounding him.

Due to the enhancement of the village resentment, the reappeared Old Tian was also helpless against the old monk, as the old monk had not triggered any rules within the Opera House.

When avoiding the rain earlier, the old monk just sat there motionless, like Yan Daozi, calmly dealing with changing circumstances, showcasing considerable survival experience.

To deal with him, Sang Que wasn’t in a hurry; she first found the body of Xia Chan, who had just been enclosed, and attempted to reattach Xia Chan’s head.

Unexpectedly, it could indeed be reattached; Xia Chan instinctively sewed the severed neck with hair, quickly restoring it as new, without a trace of scar.

Thinking about her own neck still torn and bleeding, Sang Que was envious of this ability.

“It’s like your body grew out of your hair.”

Sang Que joked, thinking that Xia Chan’s supernatural ability was extraordinary and worth exploring further.

Sang Que took out the food from her bag and gave it to Xia Chan, telling her to rest nearby, before Sang Que took the blood-soaked knife and walked up to the old monk.

“Ming Qingyang!”

The old monk suddenly opened his eyes, looking at Sang Que in shock.

Sang Que understood; this reaction indicated he was indeed Ming Wanxi’s younger brother, the young master of the Ming Mansion, possibly the only survivor of the Ming Family after the calamity fifty years ago.

The old monk showed no desire to resist; instead, he slowly said, “You can’t kill me, besides her, no one can kill me.”

She undoubtedly referred to Ming Wanxi, not Huilan.

Huilan, in life, was timid and overly kind, only daring to harbor grievances in her heart; after death, becoming a ghost, how powerful could she be? She wasn’t even as chilling as the Li Family Widow who slit her throat before hanging herself.

Sang Que raised an eyebrow in confusion, “Why? Are you immortal?”

The old monk chuckled, slowly pulling down his collar to reveal a blood-red mark at the heart position, identical to the bloody ghost-face flowers in the Ming Mansion.

“This is the Undying Curse she gave me back then, just to make me live through endless suffering, atoning for the Ming Family’s sins. Do you think I haven’t sought death over these years? I can’t die, just can’t, every night I become like her, sucking human blood, eating human flesh, heh, heh heh…”

Sang Que’s eyes flashed coldly, and she slashed the old monk’s neck with a knife.

The old monk remained unmoved, with blood barely oozing out, the wound began emitting a burst of winy fragrance, healing rapidly.

Sang Que retracted the knife, deeply looking at the curse mark on his heart, asking, “What exactly happened back then?”

Sang Que always felt that relying solely on Huilan, it was impossible to destroy the entire Ming Family overnight; the whole incident was deeply connected to the Ming Family’s eldest daughter, Ming Wanxi. Unfortunately, she knew too little about Ming Wanxi.

The old monk glanced at Sang Que, then slowly closed his eyes, whispering, “The seeds of a thousand causes planted by predecessors will bear endless fruits on descendants; we are both creditors and debtors where things can’t be clearly said—I also want to know what exactly happened; all sins borne by me—is this not fundamentally unjust?”

Sang Que frowned deeply, “You want to play the riddler, huh?”

“Infinite Life Buddha…”

“Have you tried dying this way?” Sang Que suddenly asked.

The old monk raised his eyelids, just to see Sang Que sweeping away the golden bugs in front of him with a knife, stepping in, a tuft of fine black threads surged from Sang Que’s chest, like countless thin needles, viciously piercing his heart.

Thump! Thump!

The old monk heard the violent beating of his heart, his eyes widened in horror, feeling the black threads rapidly infiltrate his heart, wrapping around, and then bit by bit, forcibly pulling his heart out from his chest cavity.

Um!

The old monk groaned, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth, the flesh splitting open at the chest; he lowered his head, watched helplessly as his heart detached from his body, leaving a fist-sized void, suffocation hit instantly.

“You…”

Sang Que’s gaze was icy, “If you don’t want to talk, then stay silent forever!”

No heart, let’s see how he could live now, claiming he couldn’t die, after all, it was because he was afraid of death!

The old monk collapsed headfirst, completely shutting his mouth.

Finally over, Sang Que let out a breath, ready to find the Yin Child; suddenly, the black threads formed by the village resentment detached from her chest.

The force was so great that Sang Que staggered forward, watching the black threads wrap around the old monk’s heart, suspended in mid-air, eerily dancing.

The strong resentment turned into tangible black mist, rolling like smoke, rapidly spreading around, and in a blink, the entire Opera House vanished.

Charred rocks, forests, abandoned ancient well, nine flower sedans, reappeared before Sang Que’s eyes.

The black threads wrapping the heart quickly split into eight strands, passing through the flower sedan to entangle the corpses of eight brides inside. Huilan was not among them, so one flower sedan was empty.

The rolling black smoke blotted out the sky and sun, trapping everyone in the center.

The sedan curtain lifted by the wind, eight mummy-like brides with tattered veils slowly rose, walking out of the flower sedan.

The village resentment, after all, ran out of control!

It had been behaving all along; most likely, it had its eyes on the old monk’s heart, carrying the curse for so many years, the daily torment surely accumulated ample resentment.

The key is, the ’Undying’ curse, as she suspected, was indeed printed on the old monk’s heart, and the village resentment surely wanted that curse’s power too.

The old monk’s heart was the last step for the village resentment’s ascension.

Who says these Evil Spirits aren’t smart, Sang Que felt that her Yin Child and the village resentment were equally cunning!

“Sister!”

Meow!

Xia Chan and Xuan Yu, who had been outside the Opera House, ran to Sang Que’s side, scanning around in horror.

Sang Que turned her head, seeing the Yin Child grabbing the Evil Spirit Su Liangyuan, mouth opening to an unbelievable size, wanting to swallow it whole.

That was supposed to be reserved for Old Tian, to mitigate the Opera House’s side effects, and yet, unattended, the Yin Child sneaked to eat it.

As Sang Que was about to control the Yin Child to return, the Yin Child, at the speed of lightning, effortlessly swallowed the Evil Spirit in one gulp.

Gulp!

Sang Que heard a clear swallowing sound.

It’s over now, finally solving the Ming Mansion’s problem, and now about to be buried by her own Evil Spirit, Sang Que filled with grievances and became extremely agitated!

The eight brides, under the control of the village resentment, kept getting closer, while Sang Que, with Xia Chan, retreated to the edge of the well.

“Sister, what do we do?” Xia Chan asked softly, looking serious, indicating she could fight her way out alongside Sang Que.

Sang Que put down the knife, pressed Xia Chan’s hand, glanced at the three corpses in the distance, she could sense the Yin Child’s suppressed agitation.

Sang Que suddenly relaxed her body, sliding to the ground, leaning against the ancient well, saying to the Yin Child, “If you’re not in a hurry, then neither am I; let’s just be swallowed by the village resentment together!”

The eight brides kept getting closer, Xia Chan nervously clutched Sang Que’s arm, while Sang Que simply closed her eyes, as if resigned to death.

The long black threads from the eight brides’ chests, dancing like tentacles, rushed toward Sang Que, her fingers holding the knife tensed tightly.

In a moment of extreme danger, an icy gray mist suddenly emanated from Sang Que.

After swallowing Su Liangyuan’s Evil Spirit, the Yin Child’s Evil Mist had grown much stronger, temporarily blocking the brides controlled by the village resentment outside.

Sang Que’s eyes slowly opened, expression empty and void, her hand holding the knife sizzling with smoke.

Letting go of the knife, Sang Que, as if a soulless being, walked toward the three corpses.

The Daoist, the monk, the government officer.

Killing them was just the first step, next came the formal part of the ritual!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep