From a tuberculosis patient to a martial arts master

sewing?

The question came out of nowhere, and all the flattering words that Mother Sai had prepared got stuck in her throat, turning into a short, breathy sound.

Demanding money for one's life is understandable, but demanding needles and thread is another matter entirely.

Yes, there are.

She had no time to be surprised or suspicious. After being swept over by Zhu Hong's unfathomable eyes, she dared not ask a single question. She nodded hurriedly, as if pounding garlic: "The girls often do needlework. There are plenty of good needles and threads. Hongling! No... I'll go get them myself." With that, she lifted her skirt and ran towards the inner room.

Not long after.

A sewing box inlaid with lacquer and gold was placed on the table. "Sir, please take a look. Is it still usable?" Mama Sai opened the box herself and asked in a humble voice.

Inside the box:

A cluster of cocoons made of various colored silk threads and a row of silver needles, some thick and some thin, are arranged together.

Zhu Hong reached out and picked up a silver needle about three inches long with a slightly thick eye. He then twisted a strand of dark red to brownish silk thread. He briefly scorched the needle tip, then pinched the thread between two fingers, aimed it at the eye of the needle, and with a single, deft movement, the thread obediently passed through. His movements were so skillful that they sent chills down one's spine.

"Sir... what are your intentions?"

Countless eyes were fixed on his hand, filled with astonishment and uncertainty.

Zhu Hong, however, seemed not to hear, and simply twirled the threaded silver needle between his fingers, muttering a few words to himself:

"The body may be a horse, but the soul may cross a bridge."

"I've led the way, I've brought it to its end, I've given my due. This is the only time. Remember this in your next life, and be reborn into a better one so you don't drift aimlessly again." As he murmured, he moved to the corpse with his needle and thread, lifted his robe, and squatted down.

There was a moment of silence inside the boat, followed by a collective gasp of cold air.

"It's sewn up?"

"This is the first time I've ever seen someone kill someone and then sew their clothes back up themselves!"

"Could it be... that this person has a cold exterior but a kind heart?" Several young masters who were peeking through the door whispered among themselves, their eyes gleaming with a strange light, as if they had witnessed some rare theatrical performance.

"Killing someone is just a matter of beheading them, why would you leave them with a whole corpse?"

"Good?" Some people scoffed.

"You just swiftly brought down the knife without even blinking, and you call that compassion?"

The whispers continued, and even Li Hang, who knew Zhu Hong's past, stared wide-eyed, his pupils reflecting the silver needle.

Doubts arose and tightened around my heart:

"Killing someone and then sewing them back up yourself—is that a common practice in mortuary practices?"

His mind was buzzing, and he felt only absurdity: "Or is he dissatisfied with the clean cut he made earlier and insists on finishing it himself?"

At this time.

There was a crackling sound from the candle wick.

Zhu Hong remained indifferent, gently pinching the rolled-up flesh at the throat with his left index finger and thumb, while his right hand inserted a silver needle diagonally into the wound from below. The needle tip had barely penetrated half an inch when several girls outside began to chatter, unable to look away.

A thought suddenly popped into my head:

If it were them lying there... "Gulp." Thinking of this, the group felt a tightness in their throats and quickly dismissed the thought.

……

Zhu Hong's needles moved with lightning speed.

Each piercing penetrates half an inch beneath the skin before emerging from the opposite side. Each tightening of the thread closes the taut tear slightly. The silk thread seeps into the pale flesh, gradually embroidering a sharp, straight vertical line.

"Pfft," "Pfft."

One sound, then another. One sound, then another.

The faint hissing sound of a needle piercing through cold skin was so light it was almost ethereal, yet it pierced the eardrum.

He paused briefly at the Adam's apple. He gently pressed the protruding cartilage back into place with his fingertips before continuing to sew. As he finished the last stitch, he used his hand bones to snap the thread.

Raise your head again and wrap the remaining thread around your fingers.

A neat stitch appeared on the corpse's neck.

"A madman, a complete madman!"

Ma Pan had already shrunk behind Feng Qi. "Seeing the corpse is like seeing the face." A bone-chilling coldness surged from his tailbone and instantly spread throughout his limbs and bones.

"This...this is something a human being would do?"

He had lived in this chaotic place since childhood, seen countless people being killed and bleeding, and had encountered many ruthless and vicious characters, but he had never seen anyone stitching up a corpse in full view of everyone, while muttering something like: "I sent them on their way, I took their place, I've given them an explanation, this is the only time, may they be reborn into a better life next time?"

What's this!

His behavior was unlike that of a living person; he was clearly a grotesque and wicked person with a sinister smile.

Zhu Hong paid no heed to the whispers and criticisms of others, his mind completely absorbed in the depths of his soul.

The Book of the Dead, with light and shadow and text appearing in sequence:

[Sew together the mundane body of a mortal who died a violent death, restoring its complete form.]

[Postscript: Slightly modified]

Awarded: A spoonful of Qi and Blood

"Infuse." Zhu Hong thought to himself.

In an instant, a warm current arose from his mind, like sweet spring water flowing into parched soil, instantly soothing the weariness from the fierce battle. Even the wounds hidden under his clothes felt tingly and healing.

"good."

He nodded to himself, "From now on, we should rely more on the scriptures of the dead." After thinking this, he brushed off his clothes, got up, picked up the thread, and walked toward the other corpses lying there.

One body,

Two,

Three.

The needle and thread were put in and put in place in no time.

"call……"

Zhu Hong slowly exhaled a long breath, not only replenishing his strength but also gaining several pounds of powerful energy under the nourishment of the corpse.

"Four strong men, four spoonfuls of vital energy."

He slowly closed his five fingers, his knuckles making a series of soft cracking sounds, and a suspicion arose in his mind.

The "Scripture of the Dead" has a specific method for extracting vital energy. Only those who have tempered their muscles and bones and have shown signs of martial arts training can extract that bit of essence and blood. Just like these four well-built men today, they must have practiced a few rudimentary techniques in their daily lives, so each of them can obtain a spoonful of vital energy and blood.

If it were an ordinary person who had never even touched the slightest bit of Qi cultivation, like that beggar who was sewing a few days ago, even if he died, there would be no Qi or blood left in his body, only an empty shell.

Proceed in sequence:

A martial arts practitioner who refines flesh begins by acquiring one Gu of Qi and blood, progresses to two Gu upon minor success, and three Gu upon major success.

Moreover, one dose of Qi and Blood is equivalent to hundreds of spoonfuls!

Not to mention the minor and major achievements of martial arts practitioners, the difference between the three Gu Qi and blood is more than heaven and earth.

"If only..."

A glint flashed in Zhu Hong's eyes. "If we find seven or eight corpses of martial artists at the Flesh Refining Realm and extract their blood and qi, wouldn't we be able to immediately step into the Lesser Completion Realm?"

This method, though seemingly bizarre, is more than ten times faster than the orthodox martial arts training. They hone their muscles and bones, temper their qi and blood, either enduring years of hardship or spending vast sums of money on medicine for tempering. A slight mistake can even damage their foundation. But one can simply find a way to kill a few corpses and seize their qi and blood for one's own use.

"I just wonder, are there any bottlenecks?"

Zhu Hong tapped his palm lightly with his fingertips, pondering to himself.

The wondrous uses of this "Scripture of the Dead" are already defying the heavens. If one could seize qi and blood without any bottlenecks and ascend the path of martial arts step by step, that would be too terrifying and might violate the natural order.

"Forget it, there's no point in thinking about it too much."

Zhu Hong composed himself and casually tossed the bloodstained silver needle back into its box. He then turned to Li Hang, his tone flat and emotionless:

"When will the agreed amount of one hundred taels be settled?"

"Withdrawals from the treasury must follow established procedures." Li Hang's throat bobbed, and he clasped his hands and bowed. "At the earliest, it will take at least half a month."