Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Severed Centipede

“Yang, you want to harm me?”

The thought of Yang’s strange appearance before me, and that eerie smile she wore in front of the mirror when I left her laboratory, sent a chill down my spine.

“I know only this much. Perhaps you’ve offended someone. During the time I was dead, I encountered quite a few shady people. You’re a good man; I hope you live in prosperity and peace.”

As he spoke, I felt a distinct change in the beggar’s demeanor before me. The refined and gentle air from before vanished, replaced by a dull-witted expression, with drool hanging a foot long from his mouth.

It seemed Kun had departed.

Knowing this was not a place to linger, I carefully replayed my interactions with Yang, wondering if I had eaten or drunk anything, or had any physical contact with her.

After repeated checks and finding nothing amiss, I hurried away from the campus and returned to my shop.

For reasons unknown, Brother Lin was at the shop today as well.

He and Old Liao were muttering about something together.

When they saw me return, they got up and headed over.

“Where have you been? Brother Lin has been waiting for you for ages. He wants to ask you about the ghost embroidery,” Old Liao said a bit awkwardly, probably feeling uncomfortable being alone with such an extraordinary man, especially given Brother Lin’s unique presence, which always carried a subtle pressure.

Strangely, that sense of oppression wasn’t as strong as before.

“My tattoo is fading more and more.”

As expected, there was trouble with Brother Lin’s Qilin ghost embroidery.

I gestured for him to lift his shirt. Looking at the Qilin tattoo revealed on his body, I saw it had faded much more than when I first saw it. At this rate, it might completely disappear in less than three months.

“I plan to revisit that tomb in two months.”

Brother Lin spoke as though tomb raiding was as easy as reaching into one’s own pocket, while Old Liao just shrugged at me.

“If nothing turns up in the tomb, I’ll have to rely on you to restore my tattoo,” Brother Lin said with a helpless look—an expression I’d never seen on his face before. He’d always seemed so domineering and confident; I never expected this fierce tattoo would dampen his spirits.

“Of course. I promised you, and I’ll keep my word.” After spending time with Brother Lin, I knew he was someone worth befriending. Besides, he’d saved our lives in that haunted house.

A kindness should be remembered for a thousand years. Though I couldn’t explore tombs with him, I’d do everything I could to solve the problem of his Qilin ghost embroidery.

Lost in thought, I began pacing the room, then approached Old Liao, patting him to make tea.

Strangely, my hand passed right through Old Liao’s body!

They paid no attention to my actions at all, as if they couldn’t see me—or as if I were a ghost!

This sudden change left me stunned. I rushed for the door.

Outside, everything was bathed in golden light, the scene peaceful and serene. A staircase had appeared out of thin air, stretching far into the distance. The light ahead was so dazzling I couldn’t see where the stairs led. On an impulse, I raised my foot to climb.

Just as I stepped forward, my head suddenly grew heavy and I fell to the ground.

“What are you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself?” Old Liao’s anxious shout snapped me back. I found myself sitting by the wall, my backside aching from the fall, and the golden stairs had vanished, leaving only the three-story-high railing.

Had I just been about to jump to my death?

Old Liao looked angry, shaking my head and asking if I’d lost my mind.

I slowly waved my hand to reassure him.

“Wait, don’t move.”

Brother Lin suddenly grew serious, crouched down, and stared intently at my face.

His actions made me afraid to move, so I sat still on the ground.

He reached for my neck, gently pinching a few times, then placed his fingers along my spine, starting from the tailbone and working his way up, inch by inch.

His actions made me a bit embarrassed.

“Brother Lin, what’s wrong? Don’t be so weird about it.”

He didn’t answer, continuing to pinch along my back bit by bit.

I could feel him channeling some hidden energy with his hands, sweat beading on his brow, his expression deadly serious.

I stopped joking and let him do as he wished.

Slowly, his hand moved back up to my neck, then around to the front, pressing hard.

Suddenly, a terrible discomfort surged in my chest and rose to my throat.

As Brother Lin released his grip, I collapsed forward, retching violently.

Nausea churned inside me as I knelt, vomiting several times.

Feeling much better, I leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.

“What the hell is that?” Old Liao cried out sharply.

Looking closely, I saw half a centipede writhing where I’d vomited!

It wasn’t as long as an ordinary centipede—really just a segment with a head but no tail, about the length of a finger joint.

It twisted painfully on the ground, looking as if it suffered.

With a squelch, Brother Lin stomped on the bug.

Its body stiffened, oozing dark green pus that reeked.

Brother Lin fetched a cup of tea from the shop and poured it over the insect. Miraculously, the centipede’s glossy black, striped body slowly turned bright red under the hot tea.

He washed away the pus and vomit with more tea, then picked up the insect’s corpse to examine it.

“Have you offended any sorcerers lately? This is a worm curse.”

A worm curse! Could it have happened when I met Yang...

“Be careful. Yang can use worm curses to kill you.” Kun’s words, spoken through the beggar before, echoed in my mind, filling me with dread.

I hadn’t interacted with Yang often, but I had no idea when she might have placed the curse.

So I recounted everything that had happened at Guangdong South University.

Great—now I had an enemy in business. Since she’d shown her hand, I had to be even more careful in the future. Who knew when she might strike again?

“That won’t happen,” Old Liao said confidently, clapping my shoulder and helping me up as we all went back inside.

“As far as I know, the female shamans of Xiangxi don’t pursue curses lightly. If it works, so be it; if not, it’s fate. This is a rule passed down through generations.”

Such strict traditions!

If Brother Lin hadn’t forced that centipede out, I dared not imagine my fate.

“Indeed, but whoever placed the curse showed mercy,” Brother Lin added, nodding at Old Liao’s explanation.

“This insect was not yet mature. See, there are no barbs on its legs. If it were fully grown, its legs would be densely covered in barbs, and it would be much larger. Once the adult worm hooks into your flesh, unless you cut yourself open, even my methods could hardly drive it out.”

Yang, after hearing the words of the man in the colored robe, wanted to kill me, yet held back—what was she planning?

“However...”

“What is it?” I asked, alarmed by Brother Lin’s hesitation.

“It’s just that, since someone tried to harm you, you should be wary of other tricks. In this world, people can be treacherous; you can’t be too careful.”

Old Liao answered quickly, his brow furrowed, face grave. Brother Lin nodded beside him.

“Enough, don’t dwell on it. Surviving a great misfortune is a sign of future blessings. When I catch that man in the colored robe, I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine.”

I gritted my teeth and spat the words out.

After chatting for a while, Brother Lin left. Old Liao and I lounged on the sofa, discussing Yang and the man in the colored robe.

Back at Longling Mansion, Old Liao had also seen the colored-robed figure in the mirror when Sun Xing was killed. He knew well how ruthless that group was. From now on, we would have to be cautious, avoiding any missteps that might threaten our lives.

“I don’t know why, but I feel as though you’ve changed—become more decisive, even ruthless,” Old Liao suddenly remarked, making my heart skip a beat.

He was right. In this shadowy trade, you need both courage and caution, as well as swift and sharp decisions. Only after all I’d been through did I realize how weak I’d been—too eager to please everyone, too concerned with others’ feelings, always planning for the worst in business. Old Liao had pointed this out to me more than once.

To make a name in this world, you must be resolute.

Perhaps the art of yin-yang embroidery gave me the illusion of controlling fate, and my mindset gradually shifted.

Between heaven and earth, within the bounds of karma, with my craft in hand, no one would trample me!

I quickly shook off the thought—it was too frightening. First, I had to stay alive.

“For now, stay in and only take jobs from familiar clients. Keep a low profile,” Old Liao advised.

I agreed, and we decided not to seek out new business, but to lie low for a while.

Just then, the phone rang.

“Ten missed calls—Xiao Wei.”

I picked up, and a familiar voice came through.

“Brother Xu, I’m here for business—I’m downstairs. Are you at the shop?”

I invited him up. Soon, I heard that cheeky fellow singing in the stairwell.

As soon as he saw me, he gave me a big hug, leaving me bewildered.

Without waiting for me to speak, he blurted out, “Brother Xu, the tattoo you did for me isn’t working so well anymore. Can you touch it up for me?”