"Was this the trial for the Nightfolk? To endure every joy and pleasure in the world, then finally become a vessel for the Fortune God?" Gao Ming seemed utterly out of place in the cellar. The despair in his heart ran too deep. Like a vat of ink, he polluted everything wherever he went. Many of the corpses could no longer smile after he touched them.
People did not share the same joys and sorrows. Once the corpses' joyful memories were tainted, their last vestiges of happiness slipped into Gao Ming's heart. Driven by some higher will, they tried to transform him, but all they ultimately did was shoulder some of his pain, allowing his body to accommodate even more despair.
"The Fortune God's abilities are really useful to me. They can break through the seal deep in my heart and help share my pain. What an auspicious god." Gao Ming looked at the surrounding corpses again and sighed softly. The blood on the Fortune God's hands was no less than that on Lord Tang's or the Butcher's. "All that happiness is an illusion. The reality is that you're all dead, and the insects have nearly finished eating your corpses."
The path that filled others with longing and temptation was remarkably easy for Gao Ming. Without a moment's hesitation, he reached the end of the cellar, where he saw rows of wine jars bearing red sealing strips.
These wine jars had been stored underground for a long time. Each sealing strip bore a large character for double happiness.
"Don't tell me there's a person in every jar?" Gao Ming muttered, only for a man's low, hoarse voice to answer from deep within the cellar.
"They're memories. Memories treasured by the Fortune God."
"Who's there!" Gao Ming grabbed the Butcher's Knife