The memory of the fishing line puppets gathered like dark clouds overhead. Mu Dai’s heart pounded violently, and she instinctively backed up two steps, suddenly bumping into someone.
She turned around as if shocked by electricity.
It was Luo Ren. He didn’t look at her, his gaze floating upward, his expression very calm: “You saw it too?”
So Luo Ren already knew. Mu Dai felt somewhat relieved, then suddenly thought of something: “What about Uncle Zheng…?”
“I sent him out. No one’s in the house.”
Pin Ting had entered the room, and Luo Ren had known early on. That room couldn’t possibly be secured by just a padlock, and the intuitively assembled five elements of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth couldn’t set his mind completely at ease either.
So he had installed simple infrared thermal imaging surveillance in the room. Out of caution, he hadn’t told anyone, not even Mu Dai and the others, and checking it daily had become a habit.
The human body temperature is relatively high. When the familiar yet blurry thermal outline appeared on the screen, when that person slowly opened the box lid, his eyes suddenly narrowed.
The worst-feared situation had still happened.
Could it be that, unless truly dead, the malevolent script couldn’t leave the body? After sensing Pin Ting’s presence, it had sought her out again, still choosing Pin Ting?
If that was true, did Pin Ting have any possibility of escaping this ill fate? It was utterly hopeless.
Luo Ren called Shen Gun, his voice unable to remain calm: “I opened the box to check. That piece of human skin was still there.”
Shen Gun’s answer was like a bucket of cold water poured over his head: “Little Radish, did you misunderstand? The malevolent script doesn’t equal the human skin.”
Yes, Shen Gun had explained before—it was just a channel for ominous power.
Pin Ting had heard the calling in some mysterious way and lured the devil back into her body.
As the old saying goes, if the mountain doesn’t come to you, you go to the mountain. Even if they watched Pin Ting closely, the malevolent script would still find her at some unsuspecting moment, on some night when everyone was sound asleep.
The only thing that could trap the malevolent script was the Phoenix Luan Knot.
Luo Ren took out that piece of human skin and threw it on the ground—a soggy mess, soaked pale, deathly still and motionless, merely a tissue of skin about to rot.
In the air, it was as if invisible, ferocious faces were smiling at him, saying: “How about that? Can you fool me? I’m back.”
Mu Dai was very worried about him: “Luo Ren?”
Luo Ren’s thoughts returned to reality: “You go back. I’ll handle this.”
After a pause, he added, “It won’t be like last time. Don’t worry.”
Mu Dai returned to the bar, dazed and dispirited.
Uncle Zheng was there too, sitting at a table near the edge, fiddling with a boxwood chessboard, placing pieces on it rather desolately. Zhang Shu watched enthusiastically from the side. Uncle Zheng invited him: “Want to play a game? That brat Luo Xiaodao drove me out, saying the later I return, the better.”
Zhang Shu originally wanted to decline, but his peripheral vision caught Mu Dai walking toward them. Mu Dai was in a bad mood tonight, and he tried to avoid talking to her, so he nodded: “Alright, I’m not very good. You’ll have to teach me.”
Unexpectedly, Mu Dai asked Uncle Zheng: “Has Pin Ting always liked playing cat’s cradle?”
Uncle Zheng was busy setting up the game board and didn’t look up: “Not really. She suddenly mentioned it today. Her mind isn’t clear, so of course, she has random whims. I bought the yarn ball for her on short notice.”
Only after speaking did he think to ask her: “What’s wrong? Is there a problem?”
By the time he looked up, Mu Dai had already left.
Yi Wansan wasn’t at the bar counter; instead, the foolish-looking Cao Yanhua was there. Yi Wansan was always like this, taking time off whenever possible and finding someone random to fill in.
Mu Dai wasn’t in the mood to worry about where Yi Wansan had gone. She leaned wearily against the counter, gently resting her forehead on the cool surface.
Cao Yanhua was very considerate: “Little Master, would you like me to mix you a drink?”
Of course, he didn’t know how to mix drinks. He had only seen Yi Wansan’s showy bartending and privately thought it wasn’t difficult: just mix whatever, it all tastes bad anyway, as long as it doesn’t kill anyone.
Mu Dai shook her head and said, “Pin Ting might not be well again.”
Cao Yanhua’s first reaction was that the skin graft surgery hadn’t been successful, but a moment later, he realized what she meant, horrified to the point he couldn’t speak properly: “The… that skin went back to her?”
“Mm.”
Cao Yanhua shuddered. For a moment, he felt that the tall and short glasses clustered around emitted cold light.
“Will she… will she kill people?”
Probably, thought Mu Dai, her forehead nodding slightly against the bar counter.
She heard Cao Yanhua scream behind her: “Brother San, did you hear that? Pin Ting is infected again! Don’t go see her anymore! If she strings you up, you’re done for!”
Good, Yi Wansan heard too, so she didn’t need to repeat it. Mu Dai turned to look at Yi Wansan.
He was standing in the dim passageway near the bar, looking a bit pale, and asked her: “Then… what do we do?”
Mu Dai gave a bitter smile: “Maybe that five-element array Luo Ren made doesn’t work. It shouldn’t work. If it did, people in ancient times would have done it long ago, and wouldn’t have had to wait so many years for Laozi.”
Cao Yanhua nodded: “That’s right, only the Phoenix Luan Knot can seal the malevolent script. But the Phoenix Luan Knot is too unreliable, and the message it sends isn’t clear. Who knows what that picture means? Poor little sister Pin Ting…”
The more he spoke, the more distressed he became: “Poor thing, poor thing.”
Yi Wansan’s voice contained uncontrollable irritation: “So what now? What do we do now?”
“Luo Ren said he’ll handle it.”
Yi Wansan froze for two seconds, and then he suddenly strode toward the door, walking faster and faster, almost running as he crossed the threshold.
Yi Wansan banged on the courtyard gate with thunderous noise. No one answered. He was drenched in anxious sweat. He moved to the side of the door and tried to climb up, but the wall was too slippery. He wasn’t Mu Dai, and after several attempts, he couldn’t get up. Becoming angry, he picked up half a brick, shouted Luo Ren’s name, and hurled it fiercely toward the second floor.
There was a shattering crash. He wasn’t sure which room’s window he had broken. After a while, he saw Luo Ren appear by the railing on the second floor. Though seeing him, Luo Ren showed no intention of opening the door.
Yi Wansan shouted at him: “Open the door!”
He still didn’t move. Yi Wansan was truly angered now and kicked the door several times in succession. The door remained immovable while his foot went numb.
Yi Wansan cursed as he continued kicking and stomping. Eventually, his leg suddenly weakened, and he collapsed onto the steps, cold sweat streaming down his forehead, his body shaking uncontrollably.
Could Pin Ting’s trouble be due to his deliberate concealment? Could it? If he had revealed everything at that time, would the current situation be better?
Mu Dai, who had rushed over, hadn’t expected this scene. She looked up at Luo Ren. His gaze fell upon her, calm but vacant.
Mu Dai hesitated for a moment, then went straight up the wall, jumped down into the inner courtyard, and opened the door for Yi Wansan. Hearing the door open, Yi Wansan sprang up and almost knocked her over as he rushed inside.
After closing the door, Mu Dai looked up at Luo Ren again. He maintained the same posture and wasn’t even looking at her anymore.
Heavy, urgent footsteps going upstairs, then Yi Wansan’s roar: “What did you do, Luo Ren? What did you do, huh?”
The scene before them couldn’t be simply explained by what Luo Ren had done.
Red yarn, about a dozen strands, tremblingly encircled a long bench. Two of its legs barely touched the ground, while the other two were suspended in air, inexplicably reminding Mu Dai of a wild horse stamping its hooves, eager to gallop.
Pin Ting lay motionless on the bed in the far corner, her face pale. Yi Wansan rushed toward her. It was just yarn, and he probably thought he could charge through, but he hadn’t expected each strand to be pulled taut. When he charged forward, it was like getting caught in a spider demon’s web array—the more anxious he became, the more entangled he got. Mu Dai, however, calmly walked around the edge and reached the bedside without much effort.
Pin Ting’s hands were placed together on her lower abdomen, plastic zip-tie handcuffs bound her wrists, and there were similar restraints on her ankles.
An empty glass syringe lay beside the pillow, and two vials with broken glass necks sat on the bedside table.
“Powerful anesthetic, suppresses the central nervous system. Continuous use can induce prolonged coma.”
Luo Ren had entered at some point and spoke calmly as if reciting from a book: “It can also cause limb weakness. Long-term use will lead to localized muscle atrophy. Excessive doses will damage the central nervous system, causing cerebral ischemia and hypoxia. The worst outcome is never waking up again.”
Veins bulged on Yi Wansan’s forehead: “I f**k your mother! Yet you still use it on her!”
Luo Ren acted as if he hadn’t heard him and surveyed the room’s layout: “This house isn’t secure enough. I’ll add infrared sensors. The windows and doors need reinforcement. If necessary, I’ll install a cage inside. A conveyor belt from the door to the cage will deliver food, minimizing human contact with her. Or to be safe, keep her unconscious continuously with nutritional injections.”
From the current situation, the malevolent script hadn’t become powerful enough to make people leap across rooftops and walls; it still needed to borrow a human body to walk and move. If Pin Ting remained unconscious but not dead, perhaps they could continue to deceive and contain the malevolent script.
Yes, he was taking a huge risk. The malevolent script had indeed possessed Pin Ting, but from another perspective, he could also use Pin Ting as a living container to trap the malevolent script.
Luo Ren’s voice was so quiet it bordered on cruel, and Mu Dai involuntarily felt a tingling shiver on her forearm.
Yi Wansan’s eyes were almost shooting flames: “Pin Ting is a human being!”
Luo Ren smiled: “Is that so? When she starts killing people like my uncle did, will you still dare say that? Alright, have you seen enough? Can both of you leave now? This is my Luo family’s place, and I make the decisions. Also, I don’t like people randomly throwing stones, nor do I appreciate doors being opened without the owner’s consent.”
Suddenly, the boundaries became clear. Yes, this was someone else’s place, someone else’s family matter.
Mu Dai felt as if she’d been slapped, making her and her bar colleagues seem ill-mannered.
Mu Dai went over to push Yi Wansan: “Let’s go.”
As they brushed past each other, Mu Dai hesitated for a moment but still asked him: “So what will you do? Keep Pin Ting… locked up like this forever?”
Her embarrassed yet cautious manner softened Luo Ren’s heart.
His tone became much gentler: “I hope that during this time, I can make progress and figure out the information in that picture and the ‘Immortal Pointing the Way.’ Perhaps they point to the Phoenix Luan Knot, and only the Phoenix Luan Knot can truly suppress the malevolent script.”
Yi Wansan suddenly stopped moving.
The room was silent for a moment. Mu Dai sighed softly, and just as she was about to urge Yi Wansan to leave, he suddenly spoke.
“The ‘Immortal Pointing the Way’… I might know where that place is.”
Meeting Luo Ren’s astonished gaze, he smiled self-mockingly.
“I shouldn’t be wrong. In my hometown’s ancestral hall, the figure on the corner of the eaves, the last one in the row, that monkey… I knocked it off…”