Tonight, No Corpses

In the distance, the azure sky grew ever brighter as the dark clouds scattered.

A crimson sun rose, casting countless rays of dawn that painted the heavens red.

The night gradually receded, while a chill spread through the street before the Corpse Seamstress Workshops in the morning light.

At that moment, Wen Qingkong was not the only one standing at a narrow second-floor window and watching Corpse Seamstress Workshop Number Six.

The One-Eyed Corpse Seamster's body leaned against the doorway. His single eye was wide open, round as a bell. Even through several walls, Wen Qingkong could clearly feel the fury and defiance within that gaze.

It was... as though souls truly existed in this world, releasing the dead man's unwillingness and resentment.

All the fingers on Zhang Quan's left hand had been severed. Blood dripped everywhere, and the pain was unbearable.

His features twisted grotesquely from agony, while the malice in his eyes sent chills down one's spine.

Wen Qingkong clenched his fists. Circumstances had changed so suddenly that he had never expected the One-Eyed Corpse Seamster to be so stubborn. Even after Wen Qingkong helped him stitch the corpses, he had still chosen to spill blood within five paces.

Unfortunately, he had still failed.

It was hardly surprising. The One-Eyed Corpse Seamster had only succeeded because he caught them off guard.

Two Yamen Runners had been following Zhang Quan. After the One-Eyed Corpse Seamster failed in a single strike, he naturally had no chance for a second attempt.

"I'll kill you!"

"I'll kill you!"

Zhang Quan furiously kicked the One-Eyed Corpse Seamster's body, the hatred in his eyes making hearts turn cold.

His left hand was ruined. This would very likely affect his work.

Thus, facing the already dead One-Eyed Corpse Seamster, Zhang Quan grew even more furious and resentful, repeatedly kicking and beating the corpse.

Wen Qingkong snorted coldly and flicked a finger. A wisp of forceful wind instantly swept out.

A moment later, Zhang Quan let out a miserable cry. His knee buckled, and he fell to the ground, landing right in front of the One-Eyed Corpse Seamster.

The One-Eyed Corpse Seamster's single eye stared blankly at Zhang Quan without the slightest trace of life. With three eyes meeting, Zhang Quan screamed and sprang up from the ground.

The two Yamen Runners hurried forward to calm Zhang Quan down and urged him to see a doctor at once.

After venting for a while, Zhang Quan finally calmed down.

He had the two Yamen Runners take away the three stitched corpses while he went to see a doctor.

Yet as he walked, he remained puzzled. He had clearly tampered with Zhao Liu's corpse, so why had there been no Corpse Transformation?

The One-Eyed Corpse Seamster's right hand had been severed, leaving him with only one left hand. How had he stitched up all three corpses?

And why had Zhang Quan suddenly fallen just now?

Zhang Quan could not figure it out, but this was clearly not the time to think about such things. He needed to stop the bleeding quickly, or he would die.

Wen Qingkong watched as the remaining two Yamen Runners loaded the three stitched corpses and the One-Eyed Corpse Seamster's body onto a cart and hauled them away.

He went downstairs.

Before long, he heard Uncle Fang from Corpse Seamstress Workshop Number Five open his door, so Wen Qingkong walked out as well.

As the two emerged one after the other, the other Corpse Seamstresses also stepped out of their workshops.

They could not leave Caishikou Execution Grounds, but they were allowed to chat among themselves.

As the oldest Corpse Seamstress, Uncle Fang swept his gaze across everyone and sighed softly.

"We make our living off the dead, so others think we're unlucky."

"But I think making our living off the dead is best. We don't have to deal with the living. The dead have no secrets and cannot speak. We stitch them up properly and send them on to reincarnation. That's a good deed that earns hidden virtue."

"Perhaps after we die, we'll be reborn into better lives."

"Old Cai had too much of a temper and was too stubborn. That leg of his was broken because of his temper."

"His wife and children left him because of that temper too."

"Who would've thought that, in the end, he would die because of that same temper?"

"Brothers, I'm the oldest here, so let me say something unpleasant. If you think it's inappropriate, just take it as me farting."

"No matter what happens, endure it a little. Take a step back, and the sea is broad and the sky is boundless."

"Why insist on arguing until heaven and earth are overturned?"

"Take it as a warning. Take it as a warning!"

"At the very least, didn't Lord Zhang still leave us fifty percent?"

"Right?"

Uncle Fang spoke earnestly, and all the Corpse Seamstresses nodded.

Wen Qingkong said nothing. He did not agree with Uncle Fang's approach, but he would not meddle either.

Everyone grew up in different environments, and those environments shaped different personalities.

Uncle Fang had spent his entire life cautious and timid, which had given him this temperament of avoiding trouble and treating small losses as blessings.

Wen Qingkong had been a soldier in his previous life, and in this life, he had a golden finger. Though he intended to lie low in the Corpse Seamstress Workshops, he was not the sort to swallow every grievance he suffered.

"Little Wen, don't blame Uncle Fang for speaking harshly. You're young, and that's when tempers run hottest, so Uncle Fang must remind you: you mustn't become like Old Cai."

"Don't bring trouble upon yourself."

Uncle Fang urged him sincerely. Wen Qingkong could feel his goodwill and nodded with a smile.

"Uncle Fang, won't Uncle Cai's body be sent here to be stitched?"

Uncle Fang shook his head, his eyes reddening slightly.

"How could a Corpse Seamstress leave behind an intact corpse? We work with the dead. Once we die, we're usually burned clean in a single fire. No matter how great your bad luck is, it'll all be burned clean in those flames."

With that, Uncle Fang waved his hand.

"Let's disperse. Go back and wait for food. Eat, then sleep. Who knows whether there'll be work tonight?"

As he muttered this, Uncle Fang could not help glancing at Wen Qingkong.

Little Wen's words from yesterday still rang in his ears. Who would have thought he had actually been right?

Uncle Fang did not dwell on it, merely assuming that young people had quick minds and that Wen Qingkong had guessed correctly by chance.

The Corpse Seamstresses dispersed, and Wen Qingkong returned to his Corpse Seamstress House Number Nine.

Not long afterward, a Yamen Runner came in Zhang Quan's place to deliver the morning meal.

Wen Qingkong took a look. It was still thin porridge and wild vegetables.

At this rate, he would starve to death sooner or later.

After eating, Wen Qingkong practiced his fist techniques, cultivated, and then went to sleep.

When he woke, the sun had already set in the west.

The one who brought dinner was still a Yamen Runner.

He wondered how Zhang Quan was doing.

Dinner was still thin porridge and wild vegetables.

Wen Qingkong quickly finished it in a few bites, then casually set the food box outside the door.

He then practiced his fists inside the room, waiting to see whether there would be work tonight.

In the end, the entire night passed without incident. He was full of energy, having cultivated the Shaolin Golden Bell Shield from night until morning. He could feel that the true qi within his body had increased considerably.

In the morning, after breakfast, Wen Qingkong waited until Uncle Fang and the others had left their Corpse Seamstress Workshops before going outside himself.

All seven of them squatted in a row against the wall, facing Caishikou Execution Grounds' main street.

There were only a few vendors on the street. Most were sallow and emaciated refugees, many of them mothers and daughters.

Many daughters had stalks of straw stuck in their hair, while some mothers and daughters both had straw stuck in their hair.

This meant they were willingly selling themselves into slavery.

Seeing this, Uncle Fang sighed again. "Look at them. Although our meals have gotten worse, at least we still have something to eat. We can barely survive."

"But they don't even have a mouthful of food."

"A person must learn to be content."