In my seventh year of learning to draw talisman, my master bit off his fingertip and drew the last blood talisman on my palm.
He said it was called a "death talisman."
After finishing the last stroke, he died in my arms.
I was sixteen years old that year, and I carried his mahogany sword and coffin down Maoshan.
From then on, there were zombies kneeling on every mountain road I walked.
Because the talisman taught by Master Yong Ming can only be completed by using corpses as ink and human bodies as paper.
