I squatted on the abandoned beam of the wedding room, the soul-inducing lamp burning hot in the palm of my hand - the "bride" under the red hijab had no feet, her purple nails were crawling on the wedding bed, and the blood words on the edge of the bed were still seeping: "Return my bride price."
"Crack."
A candied fruit hit my forehead. Gu Zhao leaned against the door frame, the chains of the underworld were twisted into silver snakes on his fingertips, and the peaks of his eyebrows were as cold as snow mountains: "Tao boy, why are you in a daze? Your master's "Records of the Underworld" is in her belly."
He said and handed over half a piece of sweet-scented osmanthus candy. I licked it, and it was so sweet that it felt bitter—this messenger from the underworld always appeared when I was in the most miserable state, as cold as ice, and my pocket was full of melted candy.
It wasn't until later, when my senior brother's sword stabbed into my left shoulder and Gu Zhao's chain wrapped around the blade, that I could clearly see the bloody words on the last page of "The Records of the Underworld": "Those who investigate the case will finally be successful."
It turns out that from the day the master died, we have followed the cries of ghosts and burrowed into the web of fate.
Purpose: Fight against fate