Corpse Stitcher: Nine Corpses Guard the Yin Coffin

In the winter of 1972, Ye Kaishan found a baby boy in a ravine full of corpses. His skin was covered in livor mortis, yet he was bawling at the top of his lungs.

At five, he wet himself while reciting The Nine Needles of Earth Veins. At eight, the first corpse he stitched together sat up in the middle of the night to praise his handiwork.

At twelve, a woman in red from a mass grave chased after him, demanding her dowry. “Young sir, where’s my makeup box?”

At eighteen, Ye Wuming left the mountain in search of the nine corpses that subdued yin. Carefree and irreverent, he unraveled deadly feng shui traps with jokes and laughter.

But when he finally gathered all nine corpses, he discovered this note on the last page of his grandfather’s journal: “Once the nine corpses are in place, a tenth must be put in the coffin.”

A bloody hand shot out of the coffin and grabbed his ankle. Hua Luoyue screamed in terror, “Wuming! Get out of there!”

He looked down at the face inside the coffin, identical to his own, and grinned. “What’s the rush? We’ve got enough for a mahjong table now, don’t we?”