One Person: I, the Dragon Tiger Stall King! I Won!

107: The terracotta warriors shed tears, and the fire burned in their heartsTianshi Mansion’s ghostwriting Daoist.

This name, long since struck from the records and even nailed to the pillar of shame of the supernatural world, pierced into the depths of Su Qingzhu’s memory like an ice-tempered steel needle.

Three years ago, this organization was jointly annihilated by major factions for suspected ’soul theft and Luck snatching’; its members either died or had their cultivation crippled, disappearing completely into the crowd.

Their most notorious method was to forge the handwriting of living people, creating fakes so convincing that they could sign contracts involving Karma on behalf of others, invisibly stealing their Luck and even their lives.

An organization that had already been destroyed, a group of people who should have been cripples—why would they appear here?

Su Qingzhu’s breathing tightened suddenly. She forced herself to calm down, her fingertips tapping rapidly on the keyboard, bypassing several firewalls to directly hack into the server backend of the ’Warm Dwelling Project’ signing center.

It wasn’t the contracts themselves she was looking for, but the environmental data at the time of signing.

Soon, electronic files labeled ’Voluntary Fire Offering Agreement’ were retrieved, each accompanied by the GPS location and timestamp of the signing site.

When she entered one of the coordinates into a satellite map, the actual location that popped up on the screen made her feel like she had fallen into an ice cellar.

That was not a community service center or a promotional office at all, but the side door of a city funeral home. The three characters ’Hall of Rest’ on the doorplate appeared particularly glaring in the dim street view photo.

She tremblingly clicked on the coordinates of another agreement; it was the morgue entrance of another funeral home.

The third, the fourth... all randomly selected agreements, without exception, pointed to the final destination for processing corpses!

The time the agreements were signed matched exactly, down to the second, the time these funeral homes received unidentified corpses or bodies that families had abandoned claiming.

An absurd and terrifying thought exploded in her mind.

Forging handwriting, funeral homes, fire offering... these clues connected together, pointing to a truth that made her scalp tingle.

Su Qingzhu stood up abruptly from her chair, not even noticing that she had knocked over her water cup.

She stared intently at those bright red signatures on the screen, as if she could smell the scent of decaying corpses through the electronic display.

’They aren’t signing names; they are signing away corpses.’

The biting north wind, carrying snowflakes, whipped against Cui Wujiu’s bronze-colored cheeks.

He crouched in front of a nearly abandoned old stove in a northern village. In the stove, a few sweet potatoes were being roasted until piping hot, sizzling and exuding sweet oil.

However, his attention was entirely on an inconspicuous piece of a clay figurine deep inside the stove.

The fragment was buried by him in the hottest old furnace ash. As the tongues of fire licked it, the invisible rune patterns on it were being activated bit by bit, emitting a faint and scorching Aura.

The aroma of roasted sweet potatoes was the bait, drawing in the smoke and fire of the human world; and this residual fire in the stove was the key to igniting the truth.

In the dead of night, everything was silent.

Cui Wujiu sat cross-legged in front of the furnace, closing his eyes to enter a state of meditation.

His Divine Sense, like a wisp of light smoke, was suddenly pulled in by the increasingly strong suction from the clay figurine fragment.

The scene before his eyes changed instantly.

He found himself in a dark, lightless hall, surrounded by countless kneeling ordinary people.

With piety and hope on their faces, they pressed their hands onto unfired clay blanks, chanting words.

’May I offer this faint fire of my body, praying for eternal warmth in the world.’

’I possess nothing of value, only my residual warmth to offer.’

’Please accept the fire of my heart, to bless every home with light.’

Each simple and sincere prayer converged into a massive torrent of Power Of Will, surging into the clay blanks beneath their hands.