Corpse Recovery Diver
Chapter 348 - 62

Chapter 348: Chapter 62

After the chef meticulously prepared the dishes, he slowly wiped his hands and stood from a distance, quietly watching the diners taste the food.

The murderer, after committing the crime, hid among the crowd and sneaked back to the crime scene, touching the police tape strung up in front of him.

Li Zhiyuan didn’t know which category he belonged to; perhaps he was neither.

Because at present, he was far from being able to extract emotional value from others.

But vaguely, deep within his own heart, he had touched a faint flame, very weak, yet truly burning.

It was like the easiness and engagement he felt when drawing for corpses at home, he was now equally enthused.

He inherited Li Lan’s disease, an emotional desert, but even in a desert, cacti could grow.

And his barren emotions could also be influenced by the corpses, producing fluctuations.

Such a discovery was hard to share with others. They would not only find it difficult to understand but also think him mad.

That didn’t matter, as Alii would understand.

Li Zhiyuan decided to share these feelings in detail with the girl after they met in Mountain City, letting her share in the joy of his improving condition, a conversation just between the two of them.

At the moment, all the eyes of the dead spirits were focused on Li Zhiyuan.

The boy knew they could see him.

But he wasn’t afraid; the retreat of the frost from under his and Run Sheng’s feet earlier indicated their attitude.

At least for now, they still retained some clarity, knowing who was helping them with their revenge.

As for what changes they would undergo after the revenge was complete, whether they could still distinguish clearly, frankly, even Li Zhiyuan himself held little hope.

Qi family’s ancestors left methods of counteraction for their descendants, but they could never have anticipated that so many dead bodies would lie beneath this village in the future.

After he changed the feng shui layout here, blessings turned into a curse, resonating with this large group of dead spirits, inevitable unpredictable changes would occur.

Traditionally, dead spirits would dissipate after revenge, but here, the difficulty of dissolution would greatly increase.

Fortunately, he had already had Run Sheng destroy the exit here, so these dead spirits would not come out to wreak havoc.

The only hidden danger was probably if a fellow Daoist with deeper occult knowledge strolled in, admiring the beautiful mountains and waters, decided to sit down and traverse the lines between life and death for fun, then their end would be extremely tragic.

Even Li Zhiyuan only dared to come here today, in this moment, to appreciate this feast of vengeance.

After today, he too would no longer dare to traverse to this place amongst the dead.

The dead spirits didn’t move; the previous "invitation" seemed unable to move them.

Li Zhiyuan had to urge them again:

"Hurry up, the dishes are getting cold."

The restaurant opened for business, still self-service.

Finally, the dead spirits accepted Li Zhiyuan’s invitation and filed in.

Inside, piercing screams of panic and fear immediately followed, mixed with the sound of a gunshot.

Li Zhiyuan straightened his clothes, an unnecessary gesture in the underworld.

But just as Mr. Shan taught Run Sheng to not eat the skin of a sweet potato, life requires a bit of ritual.

Walking back to the ancestral hall was like stepping into a den of evil.

Li Zhiyuan walked calmly, weaving through it.

This ancestral hall, whether in reality or this layered space, he had visited several times before, yet each return brought him a different experience, like the distinct views of a scenic spot across the seasons.

"Squish..."

A mix of red and white splashed onto his shoe.

Li Zhiyuan halted his stride, instinctively thinking to bend down and clean it, but then suddenly realized that he couldn’t actually get dirty here.

Lifting his foot, his shoe remained spotless.

He walked into the hall and sat down on a bench, facing the courtyard.

It wasn’t over yet, far from it.

The flames of vengeance need to burn as long as possible so that the light they emit could barely bring a sliver of consolation to the victims.

For these murderers whose hands were stained with blood, dying too cleanly would truly be letting them off too easily.

Li Zhiyuan supported his thigh with his elbow, his palm holding his chin, just watching quietly.

Desperate wails, piercing pleas for mercy, the collapsing cries for help, various sounds interweaved together, surprisingly harmonious, like a symphony composed by a master.

Despite the noisy scene, he was reluctant to speak, fearing that he would disturb the performance unfolding on stage.

A smile hung on the boy’s lips.

Pity there were "no outsiders."

Otherwise, if someone approached the entrance of the ancestral hall and looked inside, against the bloody and distorted backdrop, they would see a boy sitting in the center with a smile on his face; truly a beautifully composed picture.

Time was passing, second by second, without clear stages of introduction, development, climax, or conclusion, only starting with climax and ending abruptly.

Then a person, more precisely, half a person, crawled to the boy’s feet, the village chief.

Behind him was a long trail of blood, scattered with intestines and all sorts of offal.

By any account, he should have been dead already, but he was "kept alive," his hands still strong, ceaselessly scraping at the floor tiles, clinging to a desire to live.

Such a target for revenge was often more amusing, too hard to let die all at once, needing to be slowly savored like sugarcane to extract all its juice.

Beside him, driving the village chief as if walking a dog, was Zhu Yang.

The village chief had crawled past, but Zhu Yang remained in place, looking at the boy.