Wrong Soul in the Coffin

Li Xuan's spell got stuck in his throat. The moonlight shines through the broken window paper and shines mottledly on the scholar's exposed back. The cinnabar talisman in the center of the spine is as bright as blood, and every twist and turn is exactly the same as the exorcism talisman he has been drawing for thirty years - even the unique return stroke when finishing the pen is exactly the same. This is impossible... He subconsciously touched his talisman pouch, and his fingertips touched the rough texture of yellow paper. Liu Le's exclamation brought him back to reality. The young detective's waist knife hit a line of black smoke, but it was like cutting into sticky asphalt, and the blade was firmly stuck. The pale scholar's face in the black smoke suddenly came closer, and black blood oozed from the seven orifices, dripping on the official uniform and making a corrosive sound. Squat down! Li Xuan bit his middle finger and drew a blood talisman on the spine of the mahogany sword. The sword buzzed and trembled, and the red light surged three feet. Seven streaks of black smoke were forced back into the corner, screaming like a baby crying. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.