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墨書 Inktalez
Seeing Liu Bi had no intention of making another move, I snorted softly, retracting the Ink Fight Line in my hand. I said, "You pounced on me just to see if I could withstand you."
It chuckled, not responding. The originally fierce expression on its face gradually softened, the bloodstains slowly fading away, and even its complexion returned to a slight normalcy, a stark contrast to the grotesque Spirit God it had deliberately transformed into before.
Noticing its silence, I continued, "Look, you've scared everyone into a faint. How are we going to handle the situation now?"
It glanced at Li Da Ye beneath it and then at the director behind the sofa. It simply uttered four words: "Fake play becomes real." After saying that, it switched back to a grotesque face and lunged at me again.
"Are you done yet?" The distance was too close for me to react; it leaped onto me. My body was relaxed, and I was caught off guard by its sudden attack. It felt like plunging into a hundred-meter deep sea; the immense pressure left me gasping for breath. With a thud, I crashed to the ground, a warm sensation in my throat as I once again coughed up internal blood due to the Spirit God’s assault.
Liu Bi acted like a lunatic; there was no sense of safety in collaborating with it. I had done nothing to provoke it, yet blood filled my mouth without me having time to curse at it. Fortunately, it seemed to have some sense; upon seeing me cough up blood, it stopped attacking and floated over to the director instead. After scratching him several times, it returned to Li Da Ye's side and let out a breath before diving back in.
It clung to Li Da Ye again, likely sensing that Li Da Ye was about to wake up. Liu Bi hurriedly wanted to regain control over Li Da Ye’s body. I slowly got up from the ground, blood still in my mouth as I muttered curses under my breath, determined that after this incident, I would teach this reckless Liu Bi a good lesson.
Standing up gradually, I looked at Li Da Ye on the ground; he merely stared with his eyes open but showed no signs of getting up. I glanced at the director; he was slowly regaining consciousness after being scratched a few times by Liu Bi. The first thing he did upon waking was prepare to shout loudly. I quickly approached him and stopped him, saying, "That ghost has temporarily been sent back into Li Da Ye's body; it won't be coming out for a while."
After saying this, I symbolically spat out some blood and put on a pained expression.
Seeing that I had coughed up blood, the director anxiously asked, "Daoist, are you alright? Why are you injured? What should we do now? Should we tie up Li Da Ye?"
I replied, "What good would tying him up do? You're binding Li Da Ye, not that ghost."
"What do we do then?" the director asked nervously, his eyes fixed on Li Da Ye lying on the ground with his back turned toward him.
I pretended to spit out more blood and said, "What else can we do? We need to give it what it wants. I can't deal with it; if we don't resolve its resentment within half an hour, it'll come out again. There's absolutely no way for me to stop it if that happens."
"What does it want?" the director asked.
I said, "What else could it be? It's just the Recording of its friend that you captured. You can't just take that out for publicity; it's a disgraceful thing for its friends. Who knows, because of what you did, its friends might wander the Cycle Path for decades or even have their Reincarnation cut off entirely."
"That Recording... can I give it to him tomorrow?" the director asked, still not giving up.
"Absolutely not," I replied. Everyone knew what the director was trying to do—buying time to make a backup, solving the problem while keeping a valuable resource for publicity. To him, profit was what mattered most. Although this situation was frightening, it clearly didn't rank high compared to the potential gains. After all, the broken Reincarnation path wasn't his concern.
The director glanced at the Li Da Ye on the floor and then at the ceiling, his eyes rolling as if he were searching for a win-win solution.
I said, "Why don't you take off your clothes and look at yourself?"
The director hurriedly removed his pajamas and looked down at himself, his face turning pale with fright. He saw numerous clear black handprints on his body. After inspecting them, he quickly rubbed at them with his hands, but it had no effect. He anxiously asked, "Daoist, what is this? How did it appear on me?"
I replied, "This isn't anything unusual; it's called the Ghost Grasp Seal. You don't feel any pain, do you?"
"Um, no."
"That's right. The Ghost Grasp Seal is a mark left by a ghost on you, caused by Yin Qi invading your body. It doesn't hurt or cause any discomfort; however, if you don't remove it, your fortune will decline significantly. Take your current film as an example; it will definitely face various issues preventing it from being released. Even if it somehow gets released, it won't make much money. Moreover, over time, in addition to your declining fortune, your Lifespan will shorten. Count the handprints on you; each one represents a multiple of your Lifespan. In other words, if you were supposed to live another forty years but now have four handprints on you, your Lifespan is reduced to at most ten years." I earnestly described the seriousness of the situation, though much of what I said was fabricated—especially regarding the Lifespan.
Even if it was fabricated, he didn't know that; at this moment, he had no other choice but to believe me.
After hearing my explanation, the director's already unappealing face grew even darker. He trembled as he asked, "So if I hand over the Recording, will everything be fine?"
I chuckled and said, "I can't guarantee that either. But I'll do my best to communicate with it since this Yin Qi is from it. Whether or not it can be resolved is up to it; there's nothing I can do about that. Not only can I not help you, but neither can any of my colleagues." Since I had already started fabricating stories, I felt no need to hold back; I continued to exaggerate. My goal was simple: to scare him.
"Alright then, I'll hand it over," the director said before turning around to find his box. He pulled out the hard drive he had shown me earlier and handed it over. I placed the hard drive in my bag and said, "I'll destroy the Recording in front of him later. Hopefully, he'll let you off easy."
The director nodded vigorously and said, "Alright, alright, then I’ll trouble you with this. By the way, what should I do about the Ghost Grasp Seal on me?"
I walked over to the hotel computer and began disassembling the main unit inside. As I worked, I explained, "It's actually quite simple. You can think of the Ghost Grasp Seal as a spell, with the core of that spell being the Recording. If you still have any reservations, then these Ghost Grasp Seals will remain on you forever. But if you have no reservations at all, then the entire spell becomes void and will disappear on its own within three days. However, one thing to note is that if you still have reservations but haven't brought them out now, then even if you try to bring them out later, it won't matter." To achieve my goal, I made my explanation increasingly mysterious—so much so that even I struggled to believe it. Yet, the director bought it.
Having just witnessed a ghost firsthand—one so terrifying that he even saw it remove its own head—how could he remain calm? After such a scene of pressure, he would believe anything I said; even if I claimed he could fly by reciting a spell, he would likely accept it. People are all the same; when they realize they might be in great danger, all interests and fears take a backseat to self-preservation.
After I finished speaking, he pulled a small USB drive from his backpack and handed it to me, saying, "This time there’s really nothing left. I guarantee it with my identity as a director."
Ha! The identity of a director. I couldn’t help but find it amusing; in the film set, you might be the kingpin, but here your status as a director means nothing. Besides, we’ve never acted before; how could you discern truth from fiction when we put on a performance right in front of you? What kind of self-inflation does this director's identity bring you that makes you want to exploit a ghost's Recording?
I took the USB drive and put it in my pocket. I was certain he had no backups left; however, just to be safe, I also removed the hard drive from the hotel’s desktop computer and placed it into a Cloth Bag. That way, I was covered.
Once all the hard drives were secured, the director asked, "Daoist, there are still some files on that hard drive. After you delete everything, can you return it to me?" I replied, "I will make a separate copy of the files for you, but I won’t return the hard drive to avoid any chance of recovery." At that moment, I wasn’t sure if what was deleted could be recovered anyway, so this decision seemed best...
PS: The list of supporters for this update includes: Xiao Wei, Single Dear, Marlon 326, Slim Jun, qq150703092805. That concludes today’s update; good night everyone.
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