Chapter 100.2: The Harvest

This was her weakness—her greatest vulnerability in the present moment.

Boom!

A violent blast surged outward. A shrill scream erupted from within the clay statue, and dark blood began to seep from its body.

Years of painstaking repair. Years of hiding in silence. All of it, accumulated step by step, had now been forcefully ignited by the boy.

Drip… drip… drip…

The clay began to fall away, revealing underneath a mass of rotting, squirming black flesh—like a humanoid monster.

She spread her arms and lunged forward.

Li Zhuiyuan dodged to the side. The instant her hands struck the ground, she gouged out a pit in the earth, sending dirt and gravel flying inside the tent.

When she swept her arms again, Li Zhuiyuan had already anticipated her movement and slipped around to her back.

Her hand scraped the side of the tent—“whoosh”—and the entire structure was torn away and sent flying.

She was blind, badly wounded, but even now, her destructive power was terrifying.

She was searching for Li Zhuiyuan. Seeking the boy who had ruined everything at the final moment.

Just as she tried to turn around again, Li Zhuiyuan clawed his hands and pushed off with his legs, scrambling up her towering back.

Thanks to years of climbing Runsheng’s back, Li Zhuiyuan executed the move with practiced ease.

To a blind beast, the most dangerous place was often the safest.

More importantly, he still had to keep draining her blood!

Li Zhuiyuan formed hand seals—The Twelve Edicts of Fengdu—to burn the dead with karmic fire.

He had used this same Technique at the construction site to deal with that corpse demon, sending that serpent straight to the afterlife.

In the real world, the space around the boy’s hands began to warp and twist. Then, he reached down and jammed his fingers into her eye sockets.

“Aaaargh!!!”

The scream was even more brutal than before.

Because earlier, Li Zhuiyuan had destroyed her years of accumulated healing—but now, he was trying to kill her for good.

Back when the Qin and Liu clans had suppressed her in Dragon King’s clan, they hadn’t managed to finish her off either. Even if her body was broken, her Resentment endured. That lingering hatred gave her a chance to return.

But now, she had spent most of her Resentment to reform her body. If she was shattered again, she’d be wiped out completely.

Perhaps back then, that Dragon King thought he—or his descendants—could clean up the mess later. No one had expected the clan to fall, allowing these vermin to make a comeback.

Under the burning of karmic fire, Granny Yu had gone mad. She no longer searched for the boy on her back. She just spun and howled like a lunatic.

The commotion woke the entire funeral troupe.

People poured out of trucks, tents, and shelters.

But once they stepped out, some began spinning in place, others fought each other, some dropped to their knees and wept.

The inner circle’s array took effect. For ordinary people unaware of formations, it was like waking up to a nightmare—trapped in an advanced ghost labyrinth.

…

Inside the supply tent.

An old woman stood before two cages—one big, one small—where Xu Dong and Liangliang were imprisoned.

Their hands and feet were bound, their mouths stuffed with cotton, leaving only their noses to make faint sounds.

Sister Rou reached out and removed the cotton from Xu Dong’s mouth, barking, “He’s not your son?”

Xu Dong turned to look at Liangliang in the next cage, eyes filled with pain. Then he snapped at her, “He is.”

Wham!

Sister Rou kicked Xu Dong, knocking him flat.

She gritted her teeth in fury.

During today’s harvesting, one strand had gone wrong. It could still change color—but the texture was impure.

This meant the pair had parental feelings, but no blood relation.

In short, not only was the strand unusable, it contaminated the entire batch.

It had tested fine yesterday. But today, the new harvest—the only one—was flawed.

To Sister Rou, the child could’ve been abducted, or unloved by his parents. Worst case, he’d just be sold off as a defective product. But this kind—where the emotions could alter the water’s color, yet there was no blood link—was the most infuriating.

“You’re not even his biological father! His real parents don’t give a damn, so what the hell are you worrying about?!”

She kept kicking Xu Dong through the bars, beating him bloody.

She’d planned to sell him to a black mine, let him live and keep providing emotional feedstock. But now? She wanted him dead.

Suddenly, the old woman beside her began to tremble. She lunged and grabbed Sister Rou’s arm.

“What? Something happened?”

Sister Rou was startled. She abandoned Xu Dong and rushed outside with the old woman.

But the moment they stepped out, a trident thrust toward the old woman.

Her hunched figure straightened in an instant. She shoved Sister Rou aside and caught the trident single-handedly. After a brief struggle, the weapon stopped an inch from her brow.

Sister Rou tried to help, but the old woman glared at her.

She understood immediately—and ran.

White Crane Child’s vertical pupils tracked her. He moved to intercept.

But the old woman ducked low, dodged the trident, and flipped her hands. Two lantern rods appeared in her palms. She drove them fiercely into White Crane Child’s chest.

His body trembled. He let go. The falling trident was caught again mid-drop. With a fierce yank, he drove it into the old woman’s back, then ripped sideways.

Rip—

Her robe and a layer of flesh were torn away, revealing the body beneath.

Her flesh had gathered on her face—below the neck, she was nothing but skin and bones. Even dying hospital patients looked healthier.

Her back bones shifted, clamping down on the trident.

She rose and rammed White Crane Child with her shoulder, knocking him back and seizing the trident from his grasp.

Then she turned to flee. The clay statue was in danger. She had to go.

Unarmed, White Crane Child still closed in, throwing punches to block her path.

She swung her rods at him. He didn’t dodge—he took both blows.

Crack. Crack.

His arm hung limp.

But with the other, he grabbed her—specifically, a protruding bone—yanked backward.

Like lifting a human spider.

Then he slammed her into the ground.

Boom!

A person-shaped crater formed on impact.

She lay there, unmoving.

Just as White Crane Child reached for the trident, ready to carve her up, her legs shot out, wrapping around his ankles.

She yanked. His stance faltered—but he steadied himself.

She used the momentum to flip upright, then brought both rods crashing down on his head.

White Crane Child saw no way to dodge. So he didn’t. He balled his working fist and struck her in the chest.

Bang! Bang!

Bang!

She was sent flying.

White Crane Child staggered, blood pouring from his scalp. His pupils lost focus.

He had chosen his target well.

Before Li Zhuiyuan cracked open Granny Yu’s shell, this old woman—who closely resembled her—had been the strongest in the troupe.

At sixteen, her parents sold her to a landlord. She suffered endless beatings. When the landlord died, they tried to bury her with him.

Too cheap to use a good coffin, they buried her alive.

She clawed her way out of the grave with bloody hands. Like a ghost, she stumbled to the river and found a clay jar.

A gentle voice echoed from within. It comforted her.

From then on, she served Him.

She didn’t mind becoming more like Him. To her, it was an honor.

Reviving Him was her life’s deepest obsession.

“No one… no one can ruin Granny’s revival!”

She growled as she reached to her chest, where her ribs had caved and splintered. She dug out the fragments and tossed them aside.

No loose pieces. No hindrances to her next move.

At the same time, she voiced her confusion:

“Why is there an Officer-General here?”

White Crane Child’s body wavered.

He pulled out three sticks of incense, stuck them in his crane crown. They lit on their own—guiding the way to the Underworld.

Blood from his brow congealed, his limp arm slowly lifted.

Just then, a piercing wail echoed. Li Zhuiyuan had already begun destroying Granny Yu’s true body, adding karmic fire for good measure.

The old woman looked panicked. She wanted to go.

But the moment she moved, White Crane Child stepped forward to block her.

Tan Wenbin was miserable. He was still sobbing over the children—those he’d never had, yet already lost.

He had been following orders, guarding the entrance to the white-topped tent.

Then the whole thing had been blown away. Suddenly, there was no door left for him to guard.

He saw Brother Yuan lying atop that blood-soaked monster’s head, gouging at its eyes. He wanted to help—but the thing was terrifying. A single swipe could send out a shockwave, a single stomp would crater the ground.

Tan Wenbin felt that if he got even a little closer and was brushed by that monster, he’d be reduced to paste.

Then, the troupe members began to awaken. Tan Wenbin braced himself for an all-out brawl.

But the array kicked in. One by one, they were trapped where they stood, unable to escape.

Tan Wenbin had struck a pose for nothing. All he could do now was watch Brother Yuan charge in like a Spanish bullfighter, while he stood alone in the wind, weeping.

He even wondered how he’d explain his “contribution” to Runsheng and Yin Meng later.

Should he say… all he did was smash a jar?

But fate had not let his tears go to waste.

Tan Wenbin spotted a figure stumbling toward him from outside.

It was Sister Rou.

Her face was covered in palm marks. Her lips were split. Blood dripped from her nose.

Unlike the rest of the troupe, she had truly been ruthless with herself—using this extreme method to shake off the array’s influence and get inside.

Unfortunately, she knew nothing about formations. Nor did her grandmother. They’d only been copying the diagrams given to them in Granny Yu’s dream messages.

Their troupe used these copied formations during performances to cover up their abductions. The parents of missing children would stumble home in a daze, unable to recall where they had gone or what they had done.

Li Zhuiyuan had seen through their formation skills that afternoon while they were setting up the stage. That was why he had no qualms about secretly laying his own array at their doorstep.

When Sister Rou saw the blood-red figure spinning and howling like a mad beast, her eyes burned with rage.

They had been so close. Just a little longer, and she, like her grandmother, would have received Granny Yu’s blessing.

But now, almost all their efforts had been for nothing. It meant that if she wanted to start over, she would have to walk the same decades-long path her grandmother had walked.

She couldn’t bear it. She didn’t want that. She was still young. She didn’t want to become like her grandmother.

Then she spotted the boy on top.

“You?!”

She moved forward, trying to tear the boy off. For some reason, Granny Yu was just spinning in place, screaming in agony, completely unaware of the boy riding her.

Buzz!

A Yellow River Spade blocked her path.

Tan Wenbin, still crying, declared, “Wuu… woman… your opponent… is me.”

Before she could respond, he swung the spade.

Sister Rou dodged, landing on all fours.

He swept sideways.

She sprang up, avoiding the swing and diving toward Tan Wenbin.

He raised the spade to block her, but she caught the edge with her left hand.

She lifted the head of the spade, then slid forward along the shaft. Her right fist reared back, ready to smash his face.

Tan Wenbin retreated while pressing a trigger on the shaft.

Click—jagged teeth sprang from the spade’s handle.

Squelch…

The barbs pierced her shoulder, halting her charge.

The Yellow River Spade was a complex, multi-functional tool. There were many tricks to its use. Runsheng liked to use brute force, but Wenbin had actually read Brother Yuan’s design manual thoroughly.

Still, the wound wasn’t deep. Sister Rou grabbed the spade and kicked at Tan Wenbin.

He tried to saw her shoulder open, but her strength was monstrous. Even using all his might, he couldn’t budge the spade an inch.

As her kick came, he had no choice but to release the weapon and stumble backward, falling clumsily to the ground.

In truth, though not as terrifying as her grandmother, Sister Rou was still following the same path. She was no ordinary martial artist.

In the end, she too would become something like her grandmother—not quite human, not quite ghost.

She yanked the spade from her shoulder, ignoring the wound, and raised it high to smash Tan Wenbin’s head.

But just then, he reached into his pocket and flung a handful of powder.

A cloud of white burst before her eyes.

Startled, she twisted aside.

Pain stabbed through her shoulder.

“Lime?!”

Tan Wenbin didn’t feel a shred of shame. As an ordinary man facing monsters, shouldn’t he be allowed to arm himself with whatever he could?

“Die!”

Sister Rou screamed and charged through the white cloud. But just as she was about to strike, she froze.

Because the young man had risen, holding a handgun aimed squarely at her.

“Wuu… don’t move… I’ll shoot if you move again… wuu…”

Her eyes locked onto the barrel.

She ducked—and saw the barrel follow.

Then her spade came up, shielding her body.

Her expression twisted in pain as bones cracked and shifted all over her body, unleashing a sudden burst of power.

Tan Wenbin blinked—and she was gone.

She was right in front of him.

Oh crap!

With that speed, the gun might as well be for suicide.

In that instant, Wenbin experienced the same fear his old man had felt when shooting at Lin Shuyou.

Back then, even without channeling power, Lin Shuyou could evade bullets with trained reflexes. If he had been in full attack mode, a police sidearm wouldn’t have mattered.

Wenbin had no time to turn the gun. A crushing force grabbed his wrist. He dropped the gun as he was kicked across the ground.

Sister Rou caught the weapon and turned, pointing it at his forehead.

Bang!

“Ah!”

Tan Wenbin screamed. A yellow plastic pellet dropped from his forehead, leaving a red dot.

Sister Rou stared at the barrel in disbelief.

A toy gun?

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