To know a word is to works

    

Boom..." A dull thud sounded from outside.Our movements came to a halt as a wave of chill swept across the floor with incredible speed.A shiny bald head suddenly "squeezed" in from under the partition...Pause.

Only after I went inside did I realize what this pavilion was for.

A simple thatched pavilion separated two worlds.

Behind me lay barren mountains and treacherous waters, while before me stretched a battlefield of corpses and blood, existing only in my mind.

In the open space surrounded by mountains, there were many dilapidated courtyards like models on a sand table. From afar, one could see scattered white skeletons. Ghosts wandered the streets, these ghosts unable to transcend, reincarnate, or even be led away by ghost messengers.

None of this is anything compared to what I find most unbelievable: the land beneath this village.

Originally, I imagined "evil surging to the heavens" as a cloud of black mist, cracked earth, bones scattered everywhere, and nothing growing.

Seeing it with my own eyes, it's really hard to imagine that such a scene could exist in the world.

The entire ground seemed like a fragile layer of ice, with black mist billowing on its surface, scattered with bones and ghosts. Beneath it lay an abyss that stretched beyond sight.

Look closely, and you'll see that the cave is filled with incomplete skeletons and withered corpses, packed tightly together like millions of venomous snakes writhing in a cauldron. They roar within, churning and tangling like maggots.

Their eyes were vacant yet fiercely determined as they reached out to the ground with their hands, wave after wave surging forward, desperately trying to tear through the binding of the magical formation.

Every time the formation is touched, the central eye will emit a faint yellow glow, and the positions of the Bagua on the ground will also respond with light.

However, the light was too faint, faint as a firefly in the night, able only to illuminate the lines on his palm.

My brother furrowed his brows deeply: “Last time we were here, it was only half this size. Now it's actually expanded to this extent… The sealing formation has spread to the opposite hillside, hasn't it It's at least four or five football fields large.”

I helplessly stared at the abyss below, a netherworld teeming with ghosts. The area around Huilong Village had already yielded many things from the ghostly influx there. What horrors would be unleashed if this place were broken

Can the innate spiritual power of a nascent spirit destroy this enormous void

Someone suddenly approached from behind, just as I was about to turn around, a broad hand suddenly slapped heavily on my shoulder, startling me with a cry.

"Damn it! What the hell are you doing!" My brother yanked me behind him, glaring at the person in front of us.

This... this is a monk!

This man is bald, he must be a monk, right

But he was wearing a big headset around his neck, a bright yellow down jacket, jeans and sneakers underneath, like a street dancer...

"Well now, two patrons, what's with such a big reaction... This humble monk's name is Huiqing—" He started by addressing them as patrons.

"You think you're something special, huh Who do you think you are You lustful monk, who gave you the right to touch my little sister!" My brother grabbed his collar.

“I’m just a working man, shaving my head is for work. How can you call me a lustful monk” He got agitated: “I was just saying hello. You can call me a scoundrel if you want, but calling me a lustful monk is too harsh!”

What on earth is this bizarre thing

My brother punched him, but he took it head-on and said with a smile: "Well, good sir, are you appeased This monk just wanted to say hello. I meant no harm."

This... even my brother, who could weather any punch, couldn't handle this kind of face. He had no choice but to let go.

"Let me introduce myself again, my name is Huisqing."

"I know, I know! You monk really have no shame." My brother rolled his eyes and led me out of the thatched pavilion.

Let me know if you have any other text you'd like me to translate!

The monk chased after them and asked, “You haven't introduced yourselves yet. Are you the two patrons from the Mu family If so, please give me your autographs!”

Huh A signature Looking at this eccentric monk, I felt like his train of thought was on the same wavelength as my brother.

"I want to make a directory of famous people in our industry! Five hundred people! No ranking, just a list. This would definitely be a bestseller, enough for me to live off of for life, and I wouldn't have to work at the temple anymore." He chased after us earnestly.

"I'm speechless: 'Are you really a monk With six senses not pure, how can you be one'"

He was taken aback for a moment, then smiled and said: "Master Mu is quite insightful. I'm just a lay disciple. My master insisted that I become a monk, but I haven't gotten married yet, so I wouldn't want to become a monk. He kept trying to persuade me, so I had no choice but to be a lay disciple. This time he sent me to help."

"Are you a descendant of that old monk from back then" I asked.

"Of course, otherwise I wouldn't come to such a spooky place, would I I even brought my master's most powerful artifact!" He was eager to prove his identity and pulled out a... bowl wrapped in layers from his backpack.

A begging bowl is a container used by monks to collect alms, often simply referred to as a "rice bowl."

I exchanged a glance with my brother, and as expected, the Buddhist teachings seemed to have little effect.

"Hey, what's with the looks you two are giving each other I'm the real deal, okay"

He trailed behind us, chatting as we walked. Soon I saw Shen Qingrui's group; she was in the lead, followed by a young boy, disciples of the Shen family, and that shadowy figure in black with a sword on his back, Quan Heng.

My God, Shen Qingrui is actually wearing high heels in this place.

Seeing her walk along the mountain path, taking one step forward and one step back, my brother snorted and muttered, "Ugly people do strange things."

Shen Qingrui heard clearly, turned her head and glared at my brother, coldly saying: "The scum of the Mu family, know how to be grateful. Our Shen family doesn't hold grudges for teaching you Taoism and magic arts, and even helped your family retrieve that boy's human skin back. You dare to offend me You really are a rude and disrespectful member of a bandit clan."

Human skin

We looked to the back of the team, where two disciples of the Shen family carried a body bag.

Shen Qingrui threw a glance, the two disciples placed the body bag in front of us. Shen Qingrui let out a soft hum and left with her people, taking deep steps and shallow steps.

My brother looked at the talisman stuck on the body bag and frowned, "This person's skin has been inhabited by a vengeful spirit for too long, it reeks of evil."

The man in black, Quen Heng, did not leave. Instead, he coldly asked us, "What are you going to do with this human skin"

"Let me check again." My brother carefully pulled the zipper open with gloves, and indeed it was Mu Yunliang's human skin.

"Excuse me... what is inside this person's skin" I asked cautiously.

"Inside are the organs of other corpses put in by the substitution technique," he replied, bowing to me.

The entrails of the other corpses... so disgusting, I can't fathom what kind of spell Lily was under to have sex with this monster. What did it feel like It must have been like being possessed for her.

I sighed, "What's the way to get the skin off completely At least since he was family, burn his skin for him."

"After fusing for too long, it's impossible to separate. We could perform another peeling and soul-binding ritual, but no one here would practice such a wicked and damaging technique." Quan Heng shook his head.

My brother sighed and said, "Well, as long as Pi gets back safely that's all that matters. I'll make him something to eat when he gets back..."ons forged by Xia Yu, a mystery for all ages. This thing shouldn't be a cauldron.After all, time takes its toll. Even a grandfather can't fake history. Sixty or seventy years ago, he was young and fea...