Ye Zhengyi said indignantly, "Besides, after I became a ghost, I saw it with my own eyes. The moment he stabbed the monster to death, the sword's aura changed. The spell's spirit transferred to the sword right then. The consciousness it had already developed was completely erased. While he was dealing with the bodies, he took the painting away. He found me, listened to me explain what had happened, then gave me the altered painting and told me to repaint the monsters on it, turning them into ordinary beauties. I wasn't willing, but I couldn't say his actions were wrong. I even thought he was a good person. Who knew that once I finished the painting, he'd leave it behind and walk away? I wanted to leave, but he resigned from office and grabbed hold of me, dragging me everywhere to find the paintings I'd done in the past. He used that sword to stab all my beauties to death... They were obviously just ordinary people... Who else could do something like that—or would do something like that—besides Liu Che? I didn't know at the time. If only I'd known..."
Ye Zhengyi gritted his teeth.
I felt some sympathy for Ye Zhengyi, but not all that much. I simply asked him and Xu Tiancheng, "If the paintings are in your hands, can they still serve as vessels for spirits?"
Ye Zhengyi froze.
"If they can serve as vessels, I might have a way to recreate the spell's spirit," I said.
I had already thought of the Thin Man's ability.
As long as the Thin Man believed what Ye Zhengyi had said, Ye Zhengyi's words could surely regain their power.
After all, the spell's spirit had been forcibly erased. Wu Ling's death involved too many details. When Ye Qing explained it,