The Underworld Borrower

In the thirty-seventh year of Jingtai in Dafeng, there was a great cold. Snow fell all over the city, unable to cover up the crisp sound of the world's spine breaking. In the gloomy Yizhuang of Qingzhou Prefecture, while Zhang Yan, the corpse stitcher, was sewing the remains of a pregnant woman in Shentang, his fingertips pulled out a string of cyan money stained with the resentment of mother and child from her cold and twisted body. At that moment, he heard the screams of the entire Dafeng Dynasty in the flesh and blood millstone. Da Siming said that he was a pig kept in the abyss, waiting to be fattened and fed to the gods. The dignitaries of Longjing City said that he was like a grain of sand that fell under the roots of the imperial city and could be easily crushed. But the fish bone needle with a dark golden divine bone in his hand wanted to embroider an earth-shaking rebellion scene on the skins of the city's gods and Buddhas. In front of the Temple of Skinning, he skinned the longevity of the immortal to use it to sharpen the needle; In Caisheng's courtyard, he locked the royal family's true dragon energy to draw the line; In the Corpse Incense Pavilion, he shattered the dreams of immortality of the powerful and established the cauldron. The splash of ink on the left eye hides evil, and the red silk on the right eye confer god. Zhang Yan rubbed the sticky dark purple essence and blood on his fingertips and showed an extremely calm and morbid smile to the divine figure overlooking all living beings on the Star Viewing Pavilion: "My lords, the skin is sewn up. Do you dare to borrow this life?"