Chapter Seventy-Six: Entering the Game

A furious shout startled the man in the multicolored robe, breaking his focus. Xiao Wei managed to avoid a fatal blow—the blade only grazed his cheek, leaving a shallow cut.

I turned to look behind us. There stood Brother Lin, bare-chested, his well-trained muscles glimmering with dark light that began to spread and coalesce across his torso, gradually forming the image of a fierce, mythical qilin.

The Demon Qilin Tattoo—overbearing and intimidating.

Beside him, an ancient broken saber rested horizontally in his grip. The man in the multicolored robe glanced at the qilin tattoo adorning Brother Lin’s flesh.

"A member of the Wu family?"

He sneered, raising the Miao curved blade over his head, blade upright, and charged straight at Brother Lin, dragging the weapon behind him. As the blade scraped along, tables, chairs, and all manner of wooden furnishings in its path were sliced cleanly in two.

Brother Lin’s presence was no less formidable. His gaze fixed intently on the wild, blade-dragging charge of the robed man.

When the robed man was still a dozen meters away, Brother Lin sprang into action. He gripped the scabbard in his left hand and slammed it down with force. The ancient scabbard embedded itself into the marble floor, leaving a deep dent.

What immense strength!

The seemingly blunt broken saber spun around Brother Lin’s wrist, emitting a heavy, resonant hum. Then, gripping the weapon, he lunged forward in a blur, saber slicing through the air with a shrill whistle. In mere moments, the two blades collided—a metallic clang reverberated.

"Clang! Clang!" Two piercing crashes rang out as the men broke apart, silence descending once more.

I glanced back at Brother Lin. From head to toe, especially around the tattoo, black mist curled about his body, steadily gathering along his arm and into the broken saber.

The dark mist entwined the ancient blade, making it pulse with a strange, sinister glow as Brother Lin held it at his side.

At the far end of the room, the robed man leaned heavily on his sword, gasping for breath.

A crisp snap sounded—the curved blade in his hand broke in two.

Disbelief froze his face as he stared at the half-blade he still clutched and the tip that clattered to the floor.

The outcome was decided in a single exchange.

Brother Lin hoisted the broken saber onto his shoulder, the black lines on his body deepening as he strode toward the robed man.

With every step, the gap closed and the blackness on Brother Lin’s body grew thicker. The qilin tattoo seemed to come alive, stretching its gaping jaws toward the robed man, as if silently roaring.

"Speak. Who are you?"

Brother Lin’s voice was deep and raspy as he raised the black, ancient saber, blade forward.

"No wonder you’re from the Wu family—skilled with the blade. But… do you really think you can save him? The power behind me is not something you can afford to offend. The curse has already taken effect. The business of Yin-Yang Embroidery is ruined! Prepare to face the wrath of Mahakala! Ha ha ha ha ha!"

The man in the multicolored robe burst into wild, unrestrained laughter, his voice echoing eerily through the room.

A flash of silver light, and his head fell to the floor, rolling for a moment. His corpse made a flapping sound, like birds’ wings beating the air. When I looked again, the man’s body had vanished, replaced only by a scattering of multicolored feathers.

"He got away after all," Brother Lin muttered, coming to stand beside me and tugging at my sleeve.

A dizzying sensation swept over me, and the next thing I saw was the black night sky and Old Liao’s figure.

"What happened?" Hu Ji and Old Liao asked anxiously. I glanced at Brother Lin, who stood to the side, quietly wiping his ancient blade.

"It’s nothing. But something may have happened to Xiao Wei."

I was about to call Xiao Wei when Old Liao grabbed my arm.

"Hold on! Don’t be reckless. We can’t be linked to the case again. Haven’t you gotten yourself into enough trouble?"

"What are you saying? He’s my brother—we grew up together!"

I tried to shake off Old Liao’s grip, but his hold only tightened. He was determined not to let me make that call.

"Does he treat you as a brother? In his eyes, money is his only true brother. Why can’t you see that?"

I collapsed to the floor, gasping, clutching my hair, and cried out in anguish.

"It’s the middle of the night! Can’t you let people sleep? Useless punks!" Someone shouted from somewhere outside, breaking up our argument.

The commotion must have disturbed the neighbors.

According to what the man in the multicolored robe had said, he was backed by a powerful and complex force. What disaster would the Black God’s curse bring? We had no way of knowing.

Brother Lin left at dawn, taking Hu Ji with him.

This puzzled me. These two had been at each other’s throats when they first met—how did they end up leaving together?

A strange, unshakable feeling settled over me, a sense of foreboding I couldn’t explain.

The shop was eerily quiet; even outside, there wasn’t a sound—no birds, no pedestrians, no city noise. I glanced at Old Liao, who was still fast asleep.

Suddenly, I thought I heard an unusual noise outside the shop.

"Knock, knock, knock"—a rhythmic knocking at the door.

"Who is it?"

No one replied.

Suspicious, I used the remote to raise the shop’s security shutter. As the door lifted, I saw no one outside.

Bang! A deafening crash—someone forced the shop door open. I was pushed face-down to the floor, my arms twisted behind my back.

A knee pressed into my spine, pinning me down so I couldn’t move.

"Don’t move! Police!"

I twisted around in shock. Sure enough, a group of armed detectives had stormed into my shop, some in plain clothes, others in uniform—all glaring at me with suspicion and hostility.

In moments, the officers took control of my tattoo shop. Minutes later, I saw Old Liao being hauled out, looking equally dejected.

Then, from the crowd, a familiar figure emerged.

Officer Yezi!

"You are suspected of multiple murders. You’ll come with us for questioning!"

What was happening?

I looked at Old Liao, who only shrugged helplessly.

Someone must have set us up. We’d been caught in a trap.

Was this the curse the robed man had mentioned coming to pass?

"Take them away!"

At Officer Yezi’s command, several detectives dragged us toward the police car.

Just as I was being forced into the vehicle, I caught sight of a figure at the end of the alley—a person in a multicolored robe, watching us from the shadows.

The robed man!

"Officer! It’s him! He’s the culprit! The one in the multicolored robe! Hurry, catch him!"

I clung to the car door, shouting desperately.

Suddenly, a sharp jolt surged through my waist, a numbing electric shock. My head spun, the world blurred, and all I could see before losing consciousness was the grave expression of the officers and Old Liao shouting my name.

When I awoke, I was in the police interrogation room.

Officer Yezi faced me, as cold and proud as ever.

"Awake? Speak. Sun Xing, Xiao Qi, and Yang Zi—why did you kill them?"

"Kill? Officer, I’ve never killed anyone!"

"Where were you last night?"

"Last night? I was at the shop with Old Liao!"

"Any witnesses?"

I hesitated. Brother Lin’s identity made it impossible for him to vouch for me.

"There is! A brother named Hu Ji, from the northeast. He came to visit me in South Guangdong. You can ask him!"

"And where is he?"

"I don’t know…"

Officer Yezi’s brows knit tightly as she slapped the table. "Still lying? This Hu Ji you mention—he doesn’t exist!"

Doesn’t exist? How could that be?

Images of Hu Ji—his voice, his laughter, his mannerisms—flashed through my mind.

He’s a household spirit. In reality, he probably didn’t use the name "Hu Ji"…

Well, even if I jumped into the Yellow River, I couldn’t wash myself clean this time.

"Officer Yezi, I swear I’m not lying. The times of death for those people and when we appeared at their homes don’t even match up!"

Yezi sat across from me, frowning in silence.

I realized I’d struck a nerve—this was the crux of the case.

In truth, the police had no solid evidence linking us to the murders.

"Those tattoos of yours—what do they mean?"

Yezi seemed to recall what I’d said the first time I was brought in, suspicion flickering in her eyes.

Do you believe in ghosts?

That question seemed to echo in her mind.

She shook her head, as if amused, gave a faint smile, and led me out of the room.

Old Liao was sitting across from a middle-aged officer, legs crossed, spouting nonsense.

"Brother, your birth chart shows the Deity of Food in the hour pillar—a very auspicious sign! The hour pillar is the final pillar in your fate; it means luck and fortune await you. In fact, as you age, your prospects will only improve. You’re still young—the days of wealth and power are coming, just be patient."

I almost laughed aloud. The old fox was still conning people, even at the police station.

The officer, surprisingly, seemed to buy every word—no doubt a mid-level functionary, burdened by years of frustration. Now, listening to Old Liao, he believed it all, not treating him as a suspect at all, but pulling up a stool to ask more questions.

All around, people were chattering, including a burly, bearded man who gaped at them, nodding as if he’d learned something new.

The scene was almost comical. Yezi rapped the table sharply.

"Enough chatting! Get back to work!"

Old Liao uncrossed his legs and turned to her. "Officer, we really are innocent. Why did you bring us in?"

Yezi pointed toward another room and said to me, "Someone reported their own murder, claiming you were at the scene."