Bitter Battle (Part 1)

Standing to her left was a man as thin and tall as a bamboo pole, his skin deathly pale, wrapped in a grey long-robe.

He belonged to the lineage of Corpse Carriers, known to all as Old Loach.

"Soon, soon." Old Loach's voice was shrill and carried a fawning tone. "Master Liu sent word that he will arrive before the hour of the Rat."

"The Moon-Worship Cult is very satisfied with the spirit embryos we provided previously. This time, they will not only bring the Red Moon blood but perhaps extra rewards to help you, Crone, advance your Hundred-Eye God-Peering Method."

"Hmph, the Moon-Worship Cult..." To the right of the Soul-Stitching Crone, a sturdy figure squatting on the ground let out a cold snort.

This man wore a greasy leather apron, his bald head tattooed with twisted runes, and he was currently fiddling with several hooks of varying sizes.

He was from the Yin-Retrieval Sect, specializing in harvesting specific organs, remnant souls, or Sha crystals from places of Yin-Sha or those who died violent deaths; he was known as the Butcher.

"A bunch of arrogant lunatics. Do they really think that by kowtowing to the moon, they can commune with the gods?"

The Butcher spat a thick glob of phlegm, which landed on the edge of the rune array, emitting a faint "hiss" before being quickly absorbed by the dark red pigment.

"Collaborating with them is like asking a tiger for its hide."

"That Red Moon blood is good stuff, no doubt, but who knows if they've tampered with it? I don't want the Divine Child to end up as a puppet in their hands once it's formed."

"Shut your mouth!" The Soul-Stitching Crone's eyelids snapped open, cold light shooting from the narrow slits, though this time it wasn't just fanaticism—it was cold calculation.

"The Moon-Worship Cult has their path, and we have our methods. This is a transaction; each of us takes what we need."

"They need our spirit embryos, and we need their Red Moon blood and the temporary use of this treasure land. Without their cover and the provision of spirit-flesh, we would have been wiped out long ago for causing such a commotion under the nose of the Anomaly Suppression Bureau!"

She paused, her bone needle gently piercing the tumor, which pulsed violently, emitting a strange sound like a mix of an infant's cry and an insect's chirp.

"Once the Divine Child is formed, after it absorbs tonight's Yin-tide at the hour of the Rat and the Moon-Worship Cult's Red Moon blood, the primordial Yin-Sha of its birth will be enough for the three of us to see our cultivation soar, perhaps even allowing us to glimpse the threshold of the next realm."

The Soul-Stitching Crone pulled her lips into a sinister arc. "I have spent my whole life stitching souls and mending spirits; my greatest talent is leaving my own stitches inside things that appear complete. When the time comes, it remains to be seen who is using whom."

Old Loach nodded hurriedly. "The Crone is far-sighted! The Moon-Worship Cult is powerful, so we shall play along for now, borrowing their strength to achieve our ends. Once the Divine Child is grown, we will have the leverage we need."

The Butcher's expression eased slightly, but the doubt in his eyes did not fully dissipate.

Having spent years in the Yin-Retrieval trade, he possessed a beast-like intuition for danger.

The grand array laid out by the Moon-Worship Cult this time felt more sinister to him than the most malevolent Sha-land.

Yet, the Soul-Stitching Crone was right; without the convenience provided by the Moon-Worship Cult and that crucial Red Moon blood, their attempt to create a god would surely fail.

"Are the meat-puppets outside all positioned?" The Soul-Stitching Crone turned her attention back to the tumor on the stone platform. "The Anomaly Suppression Bureau has a keen nose. Even though the Moon-Worship Cult promised to help draw their attention, we cannot rule out the possibility of small teams sneaking in."

"They are positioned," Old Loach replied. "As you ordered, I used the best materials and added the Mad Blood Curse. I've left eyes at the front courtyard and the abandoned well in the back."

"Good." The Soul-Stitching Crone nodded. "Once the Moon-Worship Cult's Red Moon blood arrives, we will immediately proceed with the final fusion."

"Before that, anyone who breaks in—be they dogs from the Anomaly Suppression Bureau or anyone else—is to be killed without exception. They will serve as a perfect appetizer for the Divine Child..."

Before she could finish, a dull thud echoed from outside, followed immediately by the roar of an explosion!

"Who's here!" Old Loach's expression changed drastically.

The Butcher stood up abruptly, grabbing his heavy skinning knife, fierce light erupting in his eyes. "Damn it, someone really is throwing their life away!"

"Proceed as planned."

The bone needle in the Soul-Stitching Crone's hand paused, the coldness in her eyes deepening. "Old Loach, go to the front courtyard and command the meat-puppets. Kill them if you can; if not, at least stall them!"

"Butcher, guard the well entrance. Do not let anyone sneak in from the back! I will go and activate the Hundred-Eye Array. I want to see which blind fool dares to ruin my good work!"

Before her words had faded, the sounds of gunfire, explosions, and the shrieks of monsters had already merged into a cacophony outside.

In the front courtyard of the dyehouse, the battle had reached a fever pitch.

The meat-puppets charging at the forefront still vaguely resembled human frames, but their bodies had been crudely modified.

Several of the meat-puppets had their arms replaced from the elbow down with the thick, powerful forelimbs of unknown beasts, ending in sharp, curved bone claws.

Others had extra limbs stitched onto them like deformed spiders, with four or six arms flailing in uncoordinated, vicious, and tricky attack patterns.

The skin of these meat-puppets was a corpse-like cyan-grey, and thick black stitches crawled over their joints and torsos like centipedes, with some seams still oozing blackened slime.

When bullets struck them, the specialized Evil-Breaking Bullets exploded in sparks of silver and red, tearing flesh and revealing the purple-black muscle beneath, where fragments of bone stitched into the interior could even be seen.

But unless the burning ghost-fire eye sockets in their heads or the pulsing tumor in their chests—their few obvious cores—were struck, they continued to charge without fear of death.

Wu Tong's blade work was ruthless, pushing the lethality of the Wind-Breaking Three Styles to the limit. Wherever his blade passed, black blood sprayed, and a meat-puppet that had lunged close was cleaved in two, its foul-smelling entrails spilling across the ground.

However, his left arm was also slashed open by the claws of another meat-puppet, the wound deep enough to reveal bone.

"Damn it, there are more and more of these things!"

Wu Tong spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, his blade never stopping as he parried the pounce of another monster.

Squad Leader Wang and his soldiers, who were leading the team, relied on the dilapidated dye vats and walls to barely hold them back with rifles and bayonets.

The specialized Evil-Breaking Bullets thudded against the monsters; while they couldn't kill them instantly, they effectively slowed their advance.

From time to time, a soldier would be sent flying by the monsters' brute strength or have their flesh torn by claws, their screams chilling to the bone.

Chen Mo, positioned in the relatively safe rear of the battle formation, saw this scene, his brows locked in a frown as he subconsciously took a step back.

Ahead, a Paper Puppet darted through the chaotic fray, precisely piercing the joint connection beneath the armpit of a Four-Armed Flesh Puppet.

The messy black stitches were partially severed, causing one of the creature's arms to hang limp like a marionette with cut strings; a nearby soldier seized the opportunity to drive a bayonet through the pulsating tumor in its chest, sending it howling to the ground in a fit of tremors.

The Flesh Puppets in the front courtyard seemed endless.

Wu Tong had already slain four or five of them, sustaining two new wounds in the process, his black uniform soaked through until it was impossible to distinguish the monster's black blood from his own.

"Conserve your ammo! Aim before you fire! Three more coming up on the left!" Squad Leader Wang roared, the veins on his forehead bulging as he directed the defense.

Explosions rang out periodically, blasting the encroaching Flesh Puppets into pieces, yet they only made the already ruined courtyard more dangerous, sending debris flying in every direction.

Just then, a violent mental shockwave suddenly erupted from the pitch-black doorway of the main house!