C6

Before they could react from Liu Songxian's words, they suddenly heard a crisp sound, causing them all to feel even more worried.

The houses in the countryside usually consisted of two rooms. One room was used for cooking and eating, the moment one entered the room, the other room was used for sleeping during the night.

At this moment, the crisp sound came from the room where I had slept. All these years, I had never been to that room before.

Or perhaps, in all these years, I have never entered the Aunt Zhang's home. If it wasn't for my foster father dying here, I wouldn't have come here in the future.

My foster father's body was in the house, and I didn't have the time or the energy to go to the other room.

After hearing the noise, I hastily entered another room. The other room was similarly cleaned, as though no one had lived there for many years.

There was not even a speck of dust on the brick bed. What had just landed on the floor was a bowl. It had been broken into pieces and the contents of the bowl were scattered all over the floor.

Inside the bowl are some red granules, as well as some scented ashes. After a closer inspection, I realized that those red granules are …

There were actually bloodstained grains of rice here. Perhaps it was because they were often soaked in blood, but these grains of rice were obviously very large. Furthermore, it seemed that they had been there for a long time.

Squatting on the floor, I look at the grains of rice on the floor.

Looking at the tablets on the table, there were both Uncle Zhang's and Aunt Zhang's spirit tablets, and the words on the spirit tablets were also from the foster father. In other words, these two spirit tablets were placed here by the foster father.

And the place where this bowl was just at, should be between the two spirit tablets.

There was a bowl between the two tablets. There was rice in the bowl, incense was used to burn paper, and some blood was used to drip into the bowl. If I'm not wrong, this should be the process.

But, what was the purpose of this process? Is this yet another perverse aspect of adoptive father's research?

I looked at the two spirit tablets on the table and realized that there were actually two rows of words carved on the table with a knife. The two lines were side by side and happened to be in the middle of the two tablets.

The first line read: "When you are alive, taste all the bitterness. After death, your soul will not be able to calm down."

The second line read: "To turn the human world into a fiendish devil; the cycle of reincarnation is difficult."

I sucked in a breath of cold air. I thought that what was written on it might be a eulogy. I didn't expect it to be such vicious words.

These words were a clear curse to the dead that they would never enter the cycle of reincarnation, forever becoming lonely ghosts and even … It's a wraith …

I shake my head. I really don't get it. This man … What was he doing?

Looking at his performance over the years, I have always felt that this man was extremely guilty towards the Aunt Zhang, which was why he came to this room so often to pay his respects.

However, these two lines of words are indeed the handwriting of the foster father. From these two lines of words, I don't see any guilt or grief …

Looking at the two spirit tablets in front of me, I recall a few times. Perhaps, I had a happy childhood, but … This childhood was so short that I often wondered if I would have had a few more happy birthdays if I hadn't barged in that night and thought about my birthday.

With that in mind, I knelt down in front of the memorial tablet. The dead were dead and should be respected, and the scene in front of me was so astonishing that I forgot why I had come to this room and how I had left my bowl behind.

After kowtowing three times, I stood up and turned around. However, I suddenly felt a chill behind me.

At the same time, I felt as if something were watching me, and at the same time, a red shadow entered my vision.

At this moment, the sky had already darkened slightly. When I turned around, it was as if I saw a colorful woman sitting on the brick bed with her head lowered. Her black hair slowly fell down, covering her face.

But for some reason, even though I couldn't see her facial features, I could feel that this woman was looking at me.

Before I could react, I heard a buzzing sound coming from the window facing the brick bed, as if someone was knocking on it.

Hearing such a voice, I subconsciously raised my head to look. Under the hazy sky, I could vaguely see a figure slowly flash past the window.

My pupils suddenly contracted. I wanted to scream, but … It was as if I was so frightened that I couldn't even make a sound.

The shadow outside flashes by and when I look back at the previous location, I realised that everything has disappeared … There were no women on the brick bed. The room was still cold and empty …

Was it an illusion? It was just a mistake …

My colorful clothes are very similar to the clothes my foster father is wearing right now. At the same time, these clothes are also slowly digging out the memories that were already buried under my body.

Years... When Aunt Zhang died, she was also wearing such a set of clothes!

Is it because I feel guilty towards the Aunt Zhang that I have this kind of illusion? I tried my best to comfort myself as I wiped the sweat off my forehead.

Just as I was about to leave, just as I turned around, I suddenly saw another figure appearing at the entrance. I was already extremely nervous, but upon seeing this figure, I let out a scream and retreated a few steps.

Perhaps the isolation I had grown up in was considered a kind of quiet for an outsider, because I seldom called out like that for fear of living people, not even when I spoke loudly.

Sometimes, I also hate myself for being too weak. It's precisely because I look too weak that I will always be bullied by others. That's why I'm always looked down upon by others.

This time, he was too nervous, which was why he lost his composure.

After stabilizing my body, only then did I see that the one standing at the door, was actually Liu Songxian.

"Are you alright, girl?"

I shook my head.

At this time, Liu Songxian's face became even uglier, and he said to me:

"I was the one who carried the coffin of this woman from the Zhang Clan. Her death was also very strange."

When you ran into the house earlier, the few of us saw it. Your father's eyes seemed to roll a little, as if he was staring at you …

Girl, let's try one last time. If we can't bring your father's body back this time, we'll give you back the money.

It's not a good business to do something for free. If you meet such an evil customer and throw away your life for money, it's not worth it. "

I can see that Liu Songxian's eyes are very firm and there's no room for discussion. Even if he can negotiate, the remaining few people might not be so easy to negotiate with.

I had no choice but to nod my head. Then I turned around and lit four candles in the four corners of the room.

Afterward, I knelt in front of my foster father and muttered:

"I have no ties to this life, no ties between Yin and Yang, no ties at all. I will travel to the Road to River Styx with you, the Hall of the Living will sing a sad song, my spirit will walk the path of ghosts, but my karma will not touch my body, the Funerary Slave's orders cannot be disobeyed, all grievances and grievances will disappear, may the Lord pass through reincarnation as soon as possible!"

This is a step that must be completed before one can become the Funerary Slave of the dead, and the words that I say are also a kind of incantation that was passed down from the Funerary Slave.

With that, I used a knife to slowly cut my finger, and then lightly drew a symbol on the back of my foster father's hand.

According to Liu Songxian and the others, their adoptive father was too stubborn, so he was unable to leave the Aunt Zhang's home.

As a servant, she can help me get rid of the grievances of the dead. That's why I gave it a try and became the foster father of the Funerary Slave first. That way, the corpse might be able to be carried out.

To be honest, even though I am the Funerary Slave, I have always held a skeptical attitude towards the fact that the Funerary Slave is able to offset the grievances from the deceased.

At that time, in my opinion, the Funerary Slave was just something invented by the rural people in order to seek psychological comfort, it was just a bad habit of superstition.

The moment I finished drawing the symbol on the back of my hand, the candle flame in the room suddenly started to flicker rapidly.