Xu Qing had little interest in refining ordinary walking corpses, but if he came across quality material like Captain Zhao, perhaps it would pique his interest a little.
After seeing Wang Lingyuan and the corpse-hauling yamen runners off, Xu Qing shut the shop doors tight and lit a fine laurel candle. Wisps of smoke curled around the worktable, while the candle-wax fragrance filling the air dispersed that strange corpse stench.
As he approached the worktable and reached out to touch it, the two corpses lying on it suddenly began to struggle!
Bound from head to toe, the corpses resembled enormous silkworms, writhing and squirming away with all their might, apparently intent on escaping.
Seeing this, Xu Qing bared his teeth and gave a feral grin. He grabbed both corpses by the ankles and dragged them back.
"You're already here, so don't rush off!"
What kind of ordinary person could scare the dead into pretending to be corpses in broad daylight? Xu Qing seemed utterly unaware of how terrifying he was. His feral grin only released several more traces of the sinister aura he usually kept restrained.
On the worktable, the two corpses clung tightly together like respectable women stripped naked by lechers, trembling all over.
Xu Qing had no understanding of cherishing beauty.
In this day and age, who didn't carry at least a little corpse fragrance?
Pinning one corpse down by the nape of its neck, he opened the Duren Sutra.
Familiar scripture chants rang in Xu Qing's ears, and he saw the events of the person's life.
This man had been a painter.
As the saying went, without gentlemen, no artist could make a living. In the painter's trade, luck and talent were equally important.
The young painter was highly gifted, but unfortunately impatient. He had gotten himself