Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
A strand of Sword Qi wrapped around the neck, and Moxuyou merely smiled indifferently.
"Young Master Yin knows why you have come, but please allow Poor Daoist to defend himself before your Sword Qi passes through Poor Daoist's neck."
Unlike yesterday, today Moxuyou shed his disguise and returned to the appearance he had when they first met.
"Defend yourself?" The fox squinted. "I have never had the patience to listen to anyone's defense."
"With style, I like it. However, my defense is different from others because it involves the truth behind the Bells of Death." Moxuyou pointed at himself: "In this matter, Poor Daoist is wronged! In fact, last night, Poor Daoist wanted to tell you more of the truth, but upon hearing about the Tower of Floating Enlightenment, your patience was exhausted, and you even thought Poor Daoist was talking nonsense."
"Moxuyou, do you think I would still believe you?"
"Of course! If Young Master Yin does not believe Poor Daoist, then Poor Daoist would be nothing more than a corpse lying on the ground, with no chance to speak with you here."
The reason Young Master came to find Poor Daoist was primarily to seek answers rather than to kill out of resentment. Coincidentally, Poor Daoist knows the reason and has never intended to conceal anything from you or the Fox Demon.
"This matter goes back more than a year ago.
That day, Poor Daoist had traveled all day without seeing a soul along the way. As it grew darker, Poor Daoist almost thought he would have to rest in those Desolate Mountains and Wild Ridges.
Just as Poor Daoist was about to settle on a low tree, he saw two points of light. Those lights flickered like two eyes swaying in the darkness.
Poor Daoist had nothing but a bit of courage and a slightly heightened curiosity, so he walked toward those two points of light, thinking that if it were a wild beast, it would make for a good meal.
Perhaps sensing Poor Daoist's intention, when he got closer, he discovered that the place emitting the light was actually a Restaurant.
It was a Restaurant but somewhat more rudimentary than those in urban areas. It consisted of just a few thatched huts with two Layered Lanterns hanging at the entrance. The two lights I saw earlier were indeed from those lanterns.
In the restaurant, a charming young woman was sitting and eating from a bowl. Hearing the footsteps of the Poor Daoist, she lifted her head. If you had seen her, you would have been somewhat surprised because her face looked exactly like that of the Fox Demon.
Of course, at that time, I did not recognize the Fox Demon, so seeing such a face only prompted me to glance at her politely a couple of times.
As the Poor Daoist was sizing up the young woman and even began to think about how to ask for a place to stay, she unexpectedly spoke first: "Excuse me, sir, but the restaurant is already closed."
In the past, upon hearing such words, even with a thick skin, the Poor Daoist would have turned around and sought another place. However, at that moment, it was late at night, the roads were difficult to travel, and within a hundred miles, this was the only restaurant he had seen. If he left now, even if he wanted to, his hungry stomach would surely protest.
Thus, the Poor Daoist mustered his courage and said to the young woman: "I am Moxuyou. I arrived late and have nowhere to rest. May I ask if there are any vacant rooms in your establishment? I will pay double silver coins for my stay."
He expected that the young woman would refuse again. Although he practiced Taoism, in the eyes of others, he was still a man. The saying goes that a lone man and a woman should not be too close. To his surprise, the young woman was quite straightforward; she put down her chopsticks and stood up: "There is indeed an empty room. If you don't mind, please follow me."
Seeing her agreement made the Poor Daoist very happy, and he quickly followed her as if carried by the wind. As he passed by her table, he caught a whiff of something delicious. A glance revealed a bowl filled with dumplings; one dumpling was half bitten into, exposing its juicy meat filling. The Poor Daoist's stomach immediately let out an embarrassing growl.
The young woman laughed instantly. As she turned around, her lips accidentally brushed against his clothing, leaving a faint trace of rouge.
Once inside the room, she continued to chuckle softly: "Please rest here for now; I will prepare some food for you. By the way, is dumplings alright? They are filled with meat."
"That's fine; I have no dietary restrictions," replied the Poor Daoist.
He clasped his hands together in thanks as she left. After she departed, he felt utterly exhausted; sleepiness washed over him as he lay down on the bed fully clothed.
The Poor Daoist was not usually careless but unexpectedly fell asleep in that restaurant in Desolate Mountains and Wild Ridges.
When he awoke, it was nearly midnight; naturally, it was even quieter in Desolate Mountains and Wild Ridges.
To be honest with you, since taking on that task, the Poor Daoist rarely slept soundly. However, this nap was deep and refreshing. In his hazy state between sleep and wakefulness, he sensed some sounds nearby—footsteps wandering around his wooden bed.
Just as the Poor Daoist was groping around to get up and find a candle in the room, a gust of wind blew in. The wind that day felt like your spiritual sword today—cool against his neck and even slightly ticklish.
Poor Daoist couldn't help but reach out to scratch, only to find his hand wet. Just then, Poor Daoist heard someone calling his name.
There was a saying among the people that if someone calls your name in the dead of night, it is a ghost. If you rashly respond, your soul will be taken away by the ghost.
To be honest, Poor Daoist was afraid of death. When he heard that voice, Poor Daoist couldn't help but shiver and looked towards the door of the room. He saw several indistinct shadows in the dark room.
Poor Daoist rubbed his eyes, wanting to see more clearly, but those shadows disappeared again. Poor Daoist groped his way up, using the light from outside to walk out. The door of the Restaurant was tightly shut, but half a bowl of dumplings remained, their translucent skin wrapped around a fragrant filling. Although they were no longer steaming hot, they still tempted Poor Daoist's growling stomach.
By some strange impulse, Poor Daoist picked up chopsticks and grabbed one of the dumplings, opening his mouth to swallow it down.
The dumpling filled his belly but left a lingering meaty fragrance in his mouth. The meat was perfectly balanced in fat and lean, not fishy or greasy, and faintly carried a unique scent of Rouge, enticing Poor Daoist's appetite and making him eager to devour the remaining dumplings.
At that moment, a waft of rice aroma drifted over from the Backyard, seemingly more enticing than the half bowl of dumplings in Poor Daoist's hands.
Thus, Poor Daoist set down the dumplings and followed the scent. In the Kitchen, he saw the busy figure of the girl chopping filling, kneading dough, with a pot of boiling water on the stove. The prepared dumplings were neatly arranged, just waiting to be cooked.
As Poor Daoist inhaled that delicious aroma and leaned in for a closer look, he noticed that the bowl of meat filling was thick and clumpy. Under the dim candlelight, even Poor Daoist's eyes couldn't make out the color of the filling.
Just as Poor Daoist wanted to take another careful look at the bowl of meat filling, the girl had already scooped up some cooked dumplings into a bowl and handed it to Poor Daoist. "Try a bite, Daoist Priest!"
Poor Daoist took the bowl but didn't eat. He looked at the bowl of meat filling and asked, "Miss, what is this filling made from?"
"If you are hungry, just eat it. As for what it's made from, it's better if you don't know," she replied.
"Why?"
"Because..." The girl picked a bit of meat filling with her fingertip and put it in her mouth. "Because if you know its origin after tasting it, you might not want to eat it anymore. Long ago, Xibo Marquis Ji Chang was imprisoned by Zhou Wang. His eldest son Bo Yikao offered treasures to save his father but was chopped into meat filling by Zhou Wang and made into dumplings for Ji Chang. These dumplings are naturally delicious when eaten; however, if you knew that what was wrapped inside was your own flesh and blood—your son—do you think Ji Chang would still find them tasty?"
Poor Daoist was immediately stunned and even felt that half a dumpling he had just swallowed had turned into someone's finger or nose or mouth.
Eating human flesh is something utterly unimaginable for the Poor Daoist. Just as he was contemplating whether to step outside and vomit, the young woman spoke softly, pushing the bowl of dumplings closer to his mouth. "Daoist Priest, you should eat them while they're hot and rest early. If these dumplings cool down, they won't taste good."
As she spoke, the young woman brushed her fingertip across the Poor Daoist's lips, leaving a trace of bright red—her nail polish. However, on her nails, the Poor Daoist detected a foul odor of decay.
Despite still feeling hungry at that moment, he could no longer bring himself to eat the dumplings. He set them aside on the table, looking for an excuse to escape.
At that moment, the young woman turned around and asked him in a chilling voice, "Daoist Priest, do you know what filling makes the best dumplings in this world?"
Her eerie tone sent an inexplicable chill through the Poor Daoist's heart. Looking again, he saw that she had returned to the stove and picked up a dumpling. "The most exquisite dumplings in this world must be made with steaming human hearts, chopped into filling and wrapped in dough. However, the dumpling skin is also quite particular; ordinary flour is common, pigskin is nourishing, but freshly peeled Human Skin can give dumplings an extraordinary flavor."
The Poor Daoist looked at the dumplings in the pot, realizing they were indeed made with freshly peeled Human Skin—cleaned and descaled, cut palm-sized, filled with a mixture, and boiled until piping hot. Yet they took on a different appearance. Regardless of whose skin it was before, in this pot it was reborn.
Then she swayed her hips and approached the Poor Daoist, tracing her fingertip across his chest while her gaze lingered on his rough skin. "Daoist Priest, what do you think it would taste like if your heart were used as filling?"
"Indeed! I'm curious about how it would taste if your heart were used as filling," said the fox after listening to Moxuyou's story, turning his spirit sword toward Moxuyou's chest.
Moxuyou smiled slightly and opened his chest, pointing to that area for the fox to see. To his surprise, Moxuyou's chest cavity was completely empty!
It turned out that Moxuyou had no heart!
Comment 0 Comment Count