C4

However, if he were to commit suicide, there was no need for him to do so … Will you... Was there someone else who had killed his adoptive father?

The foster father had been in a frenzy in the village all these years, but because he was too evil and involved in the white matter, coupled with the rural superstition that was to say that he cursed him behind his back, no one had ever actually done anything to the foster father.

Moreover, even if he had some enmity with the villagers, there shouldn't be anyone who would kill him.

At this moment, my feet were sticky, and that was the blood of my adoptive father. Last night, it had already solidified, and there was clearly no wind in the room. However, I felt that the corpse hanging on the ceiling seemed to be slightly swaying …

Too many questions filled my mind. Initially, I thought that if my foster father died one day, I would be able to recover my former happiness and happiness. However … At this moment, my heart felt as if it had been frozen, as if … There was no longer any emotion left in him.

The surrounding time seemed to have frozen. I stood there in a daze, not even knowing what I should do. At this moment, the Village Chief seemed to be getting impatient from waiting outside as he poked his head into the room.

Seeing that I was staring at the corpse in a daze, the Village Chief walked over and placed his hand on my waist.

"Miss, let's put down your father's corpse first. Hanging on like this isn't a solution."

I woodenly nodded my head. Then, I moved the coffin on the floor to the side. The village chief helped me put down the corpse. The village head was already in his fifties, and his physical strength wasn't very good.

Furthermore, our foster father's body was stiff and exceptionally heavy. It took us both a lot of effort before we managed to put the corpse down. By the time the corpse landed, my head was already covered in sweat.

Even so, the moment our adoptive father landed on the ground, the two of us fell heavily onto the ground due to insufficient physical strength.

The moment he fell to the ground, one of his foster father's arms shook violently and a hand grabbed tightly onto the village chief's ankle.

The village chief was already very nervous. At this moment, he screamed out and used his other foot to kick his foster father's arm a few times.

However, he couldn't pull it out no matter how hard he tried. He was struggling so hard to pull the corpse out, causing it to sway slightly.

"Village Chief, it's just that I've been caught. I'll just slowly pull it out from the other direction."

At this moment, I hastily said this. Only then did the Village Head realize that he was being a little too sensitive and smiled awkwardly.

As for me, I went down and slowly pulled out the village chief's foot that was hooked by my hand.

After death, a person would become extremely stiff for a period of time. And when there was a violent collision, the joints on the body would also be affected, causing some natural changes.

There were even some nerves that played a role, causing the corpse to make subtle movements. Just now, when the father's corpse fell onto the ground, his hand had only inadvertently hooked onto the village chief's ankle.

I grabbed my foster father's wrist, which was already cold and stiff, and slowly moved it away from the village chief's ankle.

At this moment, I discovered that my adoptive father's hand was very strange. Although it was stiff, it had a vague shape of a finger pointing in an unknown direction.

At the same time, I slightly raised my head and met the eyes of the adoptive father. The pair of eyes of the adoptive father seemed to tremble violently, as though he had recovered his spirit in an instant!

This made me break out in a cold sweat, but it wasn't as intense as the village chief's sweat. Human corpses are very mysterious, and after death, their bodies and hair would continue to grow longer, so … It wasn't surprising that his eyes would twitch.

A lot of things have happened that are hard to understand. I'm trying to make these weird things as normal as possible.

Looking at the Village Chief's pale face, I felt a little ashamed.

"Village Chief, you should head back first. I'll take care of the rest."

The village chief wiped the sweat off his face. After hearing what I said, he tried his best to remain calm.

"That's fine too, I want to go to the cemetery on the mountain and take a look. I want to stabilize the mood of the villagers as well. I'll find a foreigner for your father's funeral, someone from the village …" "I'm afraid …"

The village chief didn't say anything else. I also understood what he meant. Looking at the village chief walking away as if he was escaping, I smiled helplessly. This smile was filled with bitterness.

Would the dead be scarier, or would the living be scarier? I don't know.

Sitting next to my adoptive father's corpse, I looked at his ferocious expression. When I was alive, he was ferocious, but when he died, he was still ferocious.

"I hate you, but after all, you have raised me for so many years and taught me the ability to live with myself.

Now that you're dead, I'll bury you. When the Yin and Yang are separated, you don't owe me, and I don't owe you either.

This will be your last time in Funerary Slave with you. "

After saying that, I stood up and was about to leave, but at that moment, I suddenly saw something that was covered in blood under my foster father's sleeve. The blood on top of it was already dried up, and I could vaguely see that it seemed to be an envelope.

This envelope should have been thrown out the instant the body of the foster father fell down, and it should have been hidden in the sleeve of the foster father's shirt ever since.

Is it something important? Even before death, did he have to bring it with him?

I picked up the envelope from the floor. The dried blood on it fell down like pieces of debris, causing me to feel a wave of disgust in my heart.

He carefully opened the envelope and saw a pile of money. It was not a lot, and on each piece of coin, there was a white line drawn in the middle.

I know this white line. It is a custom in the village, there is a white line in the middle, half is yin and the other half is yang. This kind of coin is called white money.

It was said in the countryside that there was a saying that one could leave money behind in the dead, but one would not worry about spending it after death, as it gave people a wish. It was also said that the person who received the money wiped the white line off the white line on the white line, which was equivalent to helping the dead to get rid of the white line, and at the same time, passing the money through circulation, could protect the dead from being reincarnated as soon as possible.

This kind of money had been prepared by the dead before they died, and some had been prepared by the relatives of the dead. Before preparing the money, one had to plan how much it would cost to carry out the funeral, and spend all the money that they had left.

Looking at the stack of white money in my hand, I slightly frowned. This white money should have been prepared for me by my foster father.

Although the coins that the mourners and Funerary Lady received were also for free, the adoptive father would erase the white line on the day he received the money.

The foster father is an old bachelor, there are no close ones, left me a bunch of free money and a mess? I smiled coldly. He really is a heartless person …

I had quite a bit of money in my hands, but after rummaging through it, I found that it was all for nothing. That is to say, I had to spend it all on the funeral.

I didn't feel too sad. Initially, the person in front of me was a very selfish person. Being used to living a miserable life since I was young, I don't have much of a concept towards money.

After all … After raising me for so many years, the last thing I did was to repay the kindness he gave me when I was young.

At this moment, I saw that there was actually something else in the envelope. I took it out to have a look and it turned out that it was … A few pictures.

These photos look familiar to me, because they're all my mourners...

I am the Funerary Lady, and the dead that I accompanied on a journey are called the Mourning Masters.

All these years, the pictures of the employers I worked for were all here, because the people who hired the women were all people who died miserably, so even including Second Uncle Li, there were only eight people who died in the two years I had been a Funerary Slave.

However, there were only seven photos. One of them was not inside. What was going on? Did he miss something, or was there something special about these seven people?

Thinking about this, my frown deepened, because I suddenly remembered what my foster father said last night when he walked over to Second Uncle Li's grave.

This was not the end …

The top of the photo was filled with holes, as if a sharp weapon had pierced through them. Moreover, the back of the photo was dark red in color. It seemed that... Blood.