Chapter 104: One Less
The wind swept through the man’s long hair, and a grain of sand carried by the breeze struck the back of his hand, causing him to frown.
After a brief hesitation, he slowly relaxed his fingers, placing the portrait back into the coffin and stepping back a few paces.
He gazed downward, where a meaningless life-and-death negotiation was unfolding, gradually turning into open conflict.
The middle-aged man did nothing, simply watching his disciples advance with grim expressions, a faint smile at the corners of his eyes.
He was confident.
Seeing this, the long-haired man on the hillside began to understand.
The method of poison…
Sure enough, the dark-skinned youth stumbled just two steps forward, his nerves abruptly frozen, his movements suddenly hindered.
Veins bulged across his dark skin as he clutched his chest, an unstoppable force erupting from his heart and spreading through his body.
The other disciples suffered the same fate. One by one, they lost all ability to move.
From Ji Li’s vantage point atop the hill, he could immediately tell that the poison affecting them was even stronger than what Tongguan and the others had endured.
Within less than a second, they collapsed, unable to move, foaming at the mouth.
Tongguan and the others, while similarly immobilized, had still retained some ability to struggle.
The middle-aged man’s smile widened as he watched the fallen disciples, like a shepherd observing lambs ready for slaughter.
He rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a nearby shovel, and lifted the lid of the box completely.
One by one, he pushed the incapacitated disciples into the box, murmuring something under his breath.
From Ji Li’s distance, he could neither see clearly nor hear, but he knew that this was the true beginning.
He retreated further behind a mound, concealing himself.
The key point was not that the middle-aged man was clearing his path, but that he was using these five lives to complete the final sacrifice.
Ji Li knew he could not interfere—an invisible ghost nearby was waiting for the opportune moment.
All Ji Li wanted was to observe the method of the sacrifice.
He could almost predict that the outcome of the ghost bride’s sacrifice would determine the final course of this mission.
And one key to the sacrifice was having the portrait in hand.
At this moment, the middle-aged man placed the five incapacitated disciples into the box and immediately turned toward the hillside where Ji Li was hiding.
His goal was to seize the portrait.
The middle-aged man knew far more than Chen Fu; the moment he saw the coffin abandoned, he understood.
Chen Fu’s group had encountered an unexpected interference. He had anticipated an external ghost but now had no choice but to go all in.
Ji Li watched as the man ran closer, remaining alert for any ghostly presence nearby.
Everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly.
The middle-aged man reached the coffin, his face showing a “just as expected” expression. Without pause, he grabbed the portrait and turned to leave.
Ji Li, from the hill, observed the man sprinting downhill, a strange expression forming on his face.
He checked his left-hand pinky—no abnormalities. The ghost was not nearby.
Yet something felt off. This should not be happening. The ghost, which had been surveilling the area, should have appeared to stop the final step of the sacrifice. Instead, it allowed the man to carry on.
Ji Li squinted, every pore attuned to the wind, searching for anything unusual.
But he found nothing. The man had already brought the portrait to the box, aligning the ghost bride with the five helpless disciples.
The final step of the sacrifice seemed simple: just face the portrait toward the subjects.
In moments, the dark-skinned youth, the female disciple, and the remaining three disciples all lost consciousness the instant they faced the portrait.
Like vegetative bodies, they could not move, and any prior pain was no longer felt.
Ji Li realized this meant their souls had been drawn out by the portrait, embedded within the walls of the room depicted in it.
“Could it really be this simple?”
“Success!”
The middle-aged man slammed the box lid shut, grabbed the portrait, and stared intently.
Ji Li could hear his exclamation clearly, even from a distance.
Yet this only deepened Ji Li’s confusion.
The method of sacrifice had revealed itself and apparently succeeded—but he had a growing sense of foreboding.
Where was the ghost?
It should have desperately stopped the sacrifice. How could it have allowed the middle-aged man to succeed so easily?
Unless…
The sacrifice had not been completed…
At the same time, the middle-aged man, staring at the motionless portrait, stopped shouting.
He sensed something was wrong and froze in place.
After a long moment, as if recalling something, he slammed his palm down hard.
“Could it be…”
He muttered this and immediately fled the graveyard, racing toward the hillside, clutching the portrait tightly.
“It must be because of it! We’re still missing one!”
The words carried on the wind and reached Ji Li’s ears. Watching the man sprint forward, Ji Li no longer stayed hidden.
He now knew the sacrifice had failed—but that did not necessarily mean total failure. It was likely that the numbers were wrong.
There was no need to hide. Ji Li walked straight toward the man, even crossing the hill to intercept him.
The middle-aged man froze as he saw this unfamiliar figure approaching, his expression sharpening with alertness.
“You are—”
Before he could finish, his body stiffened abruptly and, uncontrollably, he was lifted into the air.
The unfinished question was cut off. The portrait slipped from his hands—but another hand clamped firmly around it.
Ji Li looked up, his gaze cold, and stared at the middle-aged man, stunned and wide-eyed, before turning and walking away.
For the middle-aged man, the countdown of life had already begun.
Above his body, a long-hidden black-haired ghost in a bridal gown, who had waited far too long, finally struck.
Crack.
His shinbones shattered in two, and his head twisted, hanging lifeless in midair.
When his body fell to the ground, it kicked up a cloud of dust.
Ji Li’s tall figure walked on undisturbed. He had seen the ghost that killed the middle-aged man, yet it did not follow him.
From this moment, the unfinished sacrifice was now his responsibility.