C71 The Birth Token

I glanced back toward the depths of the forest, catching a glimpse of a red figure darting past. My heart lurched. Could it be the Corpse Devil?

Lifting my shirt, I found two characters etched on my chest: Rumeng. The name Rumeng glowed with a soft red hue in the predawn darkness, confirming my fears—it was the Corpse Devil indeed.

Why was she secretly watching me? I had felt a sinister gaze upon me while I was breaking curses for the local families.

She knew about the thing inside me, but unlike the extreme Evil Taoists, she had given me a three-year reprieve before claiming my life.

Gazing at the newborn sun and the sinking moon, I sighed deeply. This nightmare, this harbinger of death, was truly a curse.

It was here that Deaf Zhang and I parted ways; he was off to the county town, and conveniently, a shuttle bus was heading there. Our farewell was not tinged with sadness—we would be reunited soon enough. I watched him board the bus, then hopped on my motorcycle, its tank full, and headed back to West River Village.

All the way home, one worry nagged at me: the items my foster father had left behind, still in the house.

I feared that someone with nefarious intentions might steal them, particularly the blood jade shaped like an eye. My foster father had warned that it must not be seen by others, lest it bring deadly trouble.

Upon reaching my doorstep, I dashed inside without bothering to lock up the bike. I flung open the cabinet door only to be struck with shock—the wooden chest my foster father had left was missing! My worst fears had materialized!

I collapsed to the floor, but then, spotting a loose brick on the hearth, a smile broke through my dismay.

Chiding myself with a slap to the forehead, I remembered. Before leaving, I had hidden the chest beneath the bricks of the hearth for safekeeping, out of fear it might be discovered.

With this clever hiding spot, even if thieves came, they'd never suspect to search within the hearth.

I rose to my feet, secured the door behind me, and shifted the brick aside to gingerly retrieve the wooden chest. Inside, the blood jade, the ink painting, the peculiar pen—all were safely tucked away where I had left them.

I exhaled deeply and casually picked up the painting. Gazing at the Miao girl depicted within, I couldn't help but wonder if she could be my biological mother.

I scrutinized the painting, then my reflection in the mirror, sensing a resemblance between my facial features and eyes and those of the girl in the painting, Luo Qing.

After several glances, I gave a wry smile and shook my head. Everything was unclear, like looking at flowers through fog; there were no definitive answers yet, so it was best not to speculate wildly.

Without thinking, I reached for the black pen shaft that resembled a traditional brush, but in that instant, I was startled, and the pen dropped to the floor.

To my amazement, when I gripped the pen, a black light emanated from the front end!

I had thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Picking up the pen once more, this time I clearly saw that the pen, which lacked a nib, had indeed sprouted a tip!

The tip, glowing with black light, resembled a wisp of black mist, just like the tip of a brush soaked in black ink.

I tried using the pen to scribble on paper, but it left no mark. Moreover, I discovered something even more peculiar.

The pen's tip only appeared when I held it in my right hand, eerily reminiscent of previous experiences. I was utterly baffled. What was going on with my right hand?

Furthermore, this pen is the sole memento of my birth. My adoptive father once told me that when he found me, my tiny hand was clutching this pen tightly...