Chapter 62: East City Glamour Corpse (Part 7): Picked Up a Person Part 2

As the girl methodically shredded the clothes bit by bit, Wen Yu’s eyes brimmed red with tears streaming down. She clutched the fabric at her knees and huddled up, like a child helplessly watching her beloved toy be destroyed.

After checking the limbs, Shang Shan reported, “Nothing.”

Jiang Yuanqi continued, “Then we’ll have to be a bit more intrusive. Check her back next.”

Shang Shan didn’t hesitate. She gently tore open the fabric at the back of the neck but didn’t go too far down. Right on the butterfly bone, she spotted a deep red mark. “Looks like some kind of seal.”

Clenching one hand into a fist, Jiang Yuanqi asked, “What kind of seal?”

Shang Shan pulled the tear wider. The slightly protruding butterfly bone was wrapped in thin, lifeless skin, and a round emblem was branded upon it. Looking closely at the shape in the center, it resembled a pair of flared wings with fine fuzz, sharp fangs—it was clearly…

“A bat!” Shang Shan shifted angles, then shifted back to confirm. “It’s a bat!”

Mu Qian Tan looked up from her book and paid slight attention to the mark’s appearance. The black hand on her heart widened its eyes and gurgled excitedly: ‘It’s here! First time touching the main storyline!’

The mark branded on the butterfly bone was the residue of one of the most insidious and evil magic tools in the book: a demon seal.

Talent varied greatly between people. Some were peerless geniuses who advanced miles in a day with minimal cultivation. Others toiled fruitlessly for years without progress—a harsh reality hardwired from birth. But a demon seal could defy the heavens, bridge that gap, and grant incomparable power.

The exact principle of use was lost to history, but the passed-down refining method was utterly cruel: hunt down demon clans, exterminate them, then boil their power into a special seal ink. Use blood as the trigger and bones as the stamp. Seal the demonic power within the stamp and apply it to the recipient to convert that power for their own use.

This was behavior of utter depravity that ignored whether descendants would face retaliation. The side effects were also severe. Fierce corpses feared no sunlight, but someone stamped with a bat demon seal would fear it, or with a fish demon seal would fear coming ashore, and so on. Their bodies would gradually warp into something neither human nor demon, eventually losing reason and devolving into a ferocious beast.

The users met miserable ends, and the makers fared no better. The souls of the countless demons cruelly slaughtered and boiled could not rest in peace. Their endless torment shadowed them, driving ceaseless vengeance against the demon seal’s owner. Over time, this birthed a curse that persisted down bloodlines.

The first—and only—family to create demon seals was Jiang Yuanqi’s Taihang Feng Clan, now one of the Five Great Immortal Gate Families.

Jiang Min had been born craving death, Jiang Yuanqi was fated for separation, countless children died young, the Feng family was beset by curses, successive heads met bad ends, and they were shunned across the Immortal Realm—all for this reason.

Jiang Yuanqi had come to East City precisely because he had caught wind of rumors about demon seals.

Upon hearing the word “bat,” Jiang Yuanqi’s fist suddenly clenched tight—the force so great that the cracking of his knuckles was audible—before he abruptly released it, the blood draining back to his fingertips.

He was still smiling, though it looked painted on. “You’ve worked hard, Miss Shang. Please tidy her clothes.”

Shang Shan covered her body properly. Only then did Jiang Yuanqi turn around—but not toward the glamour corpse. He walked to Wen Yu instead.

His tone carried a laugh, even a sickly sweet gentleness, yet it inexplicably chilled the nape. He asked, “Miss Wen, is this person your friend? I don’t think so. ‘Silver Snake’ probably isn’t her real name either. Please tell me the truth—how did she end up here?”

Wen Yu looked up at him, her tears already dried. She trembled, not knowing what to do. Jiang Yuanqi continued, “In the past few months, she harmed countless people. You’ve seen what the city looks like now with your own eyes, haven’t you? No matter what, she couldn’t escape punishment. Besides, she’s already dead—that’s unchangeable. But how she died and how she turned into this is very important. Miss Wen, don’t hide it anymore.”

Shang Shan walked over silently and steadied the panicked Wen Yu, who was about to fall. She seemed to realize that neither she nor the glamour corpse could escape. Tears rolled down her cheeks dejectedly, her appearance utterly wretched. As Shang Shan supported her, she accidentally touched her waist and leg, causing Wen Yu to cry out in pain. Her face grew even more miserable.

“Ah, sorry,” Shang Shan said. Seeing her like this reminded her of something off earlier. Now, she lightly traced the shape of the marks with her fingertips over the clothes, growing more and more astonished. She couldn’t help but say, “Miss Wen, did your leg really break from a fall? Why do I feel… like someone pinched it off?”

Jiang Yuanqi leaned over and sat down, saying gently, “You’ve seen how terrifying she is, right? She just tried to kill you—she’s not your friend at all. So, the killings in the city might have nothing to do with you. She was just coercing you, wasn’t she?”

It was as if her emotions had finally burst their banks. Wen Yu shook her head. “No… it’s my fault. I killed her, and that’s why she turned into this.”

When the glamour corpse had fallen, shards of porcelain scattered by her face, glinting in the sunlight. But Wen Yu seemed to see those blood-red eyes and couldn’t help thinking back to a few months earlier.

That day was sunny and pleasant. Following Wen Wu’s wishes, Wen Yu went to the Marriage Affinity Temple on the mountain to pray for a marriage match, as she usually did. After descending, she headed straight back to the Wen Family. On the way, she passed a stage where East City Jade Banquet was being performed.

The actor wore a costume with red makeup on her face, singing of Yu Yan and her husband’s sweet, honeyed vows of eternal love. Her movements and voice were equally captivating, drawing cheers from the crowd below. Wen Yu stood and watched for a while, thinking of her mother, who had passed away years earlier.

She had heard that her mother was once the most famous Jade Banquet performer in the city—no one could match her brilliance on stage. But in her memories, her mother was faded and dejected, full of self-doubt. She didn’t have the radiant happiness of the woman on stage. Wen Yu had lived with her mother for over a decade, yet she had never seen her perform live.

Only the costume her mother pulled out from under the bed time and again, and the soft humming as she lulled Wen Yu to sleep, proved that her mother had once sung opera. But that must have been from long ago— so long that even her mother had forgotten.

One of the guards said in a low voice, “Mistress, if you go back any later, Lord Wen will blame you.”

Wen Yu withdrew her gaze and murmured in agreement. She was about to return to that quiet, gloomy home.

She felt lost inside, but she knew she had to go back eventually.

As she walked back, a thin sheen of sweat formed on her forehead. She took out a handkerchief to wipe it, but in a daze, the wind snatched it away.

Wen Yu chased after the handkerchief and ended up in an alley. Light barely reached here. The ground was muddy and full of puddles, with trash piled up along the sides, giving off waves of rotten stench.

The handkerchief fluttered into a puddle, where the white fabric soaked up water and spread a hint of red. Wen Yu froze for a moment before noticing a thin trail of blood snaking out from a nearby pile of straw, merging into the puddle and staining the handkerchief.

She rarely saw blood, but each time left a deep impression. Now, at the mere sight, she nearly fainted and had to be steadied by a guard.

They were especially sensitive to the smell of blood and realized the alley was dangerous. They wanted to lead their mistress out, but Wen Yu suddenly said, “Wait.”

She saw a pale hand protruding from the straw pile. “There’s someone there.”

To keep their mistress out of danger, one guard stayed by Wen Yu’s side while the other went to check. He pushed aside the straw and broken wood, then reported, “It’s a severely injured woman.”

It was only then that her voice revealed she was a woman. She had broad shoulders and wore her hair tied up, all in pitch-black clothes that obscured her gender.

The guard protecting Wen Yu asked, “Is she awake or unconscious?”

“Unconscious.”

These two guards had followed Wen Yu since she was a child, protecting her safety and tending to her daily needs. One was named Ji Ce, the other Cong Rong. Wen Yu said, “Is she dying? We have to save her.”

They naturally obeyed their mistress. There happened to be an abandoned temple nearby that no one visited. They dragged the woman inside, padded the ground with a tattered mat, and laid her down.

Wen Yu stood behind Cong Rong and bent down to look. The woman lay stiffly on the mat, dressed in a black fitted outfit edged with silver, hugging her slender figure. A small silver snake was outlined in silver thread on her chest.

She gripped a short sword of odd shape—like a snake or fangs—razor-sharp. Her eyes were tightly shut, lips purple. Strands of hair stuck to her face with blood and water. Her chest barely rose and fell, while wounds on her abdomen and back oozed blood nonstop.

Ji Ce said, “Do we save her? This getup screams assassin or killer. Saving her might bring big trouble.”

Wen Yu said, “We can’t just let her die. We have to save her.”

Ji Ce said, “But…”

Cong Rong said, “Mistress says so—what’s with all the talk!”

As trained guards, they handled wounds efficiently. Cong Rong stripped off the woman’s clothes, cleaned the injuries, and stitched them up with needle and thread. Ji Ce fetched medicine and disinfectant wine, and also brought some sweets and dried fruit.

He tossed the wine and medicine to Cong Rong and offered the snacks to Wen Yu. She took them but didn’t eat, just stood there hugging the dried fruit. She couldn’t bear to look at the gruesome wounds but wanted to peek. Ji Ce stood behind her, covering her eyes with his hands but leaving two small gaps for her to spy through.

A voice drifted down from above her. “Mistress, we can handle this. Have Ji Ce send you back first? If you’re too late, Lord Wen will surely scold you.”

Wen Yu shook her head. “It’s already late. He’ll scold me no matter what. I want to wait a bit longer before going back.”

Ji Ce sighed. “As you wish.”

The woman had wounds all over, and she’d nearly bled out. They dug out a pile of hidden weapons, but none were fatal. Ji Ce stared at the pile in surprise. “She survived this? When she wakes up, Ji Ce’s definitely asking how she trained!”

When they dressed her again, Cong Rong wondered, “Huh, there’s a bat on her back. Is it a tattoo?”