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I use ghosts as cash machines

I use ghosts as cash machines

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Chapter 38: “Artwork”

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Past life, her spirit root was dug out from her body. She had wholeheartedly dedicated herself to the just path, but she was sentenced as an evil demonic cultivator.Returning back to her juvenile years, she turns the tide. Against natural order, she had been reborn. Those who had deceived and humiliated her, she would return it to them a hundredfold with additional thanks.Studying her own blood vessels, she recasts the best quality spirit roots. She destroys those rascal clansmen and returned home with glory!The rules of the world do not hold her down; this time around she kills through the righteous path.He is the universally admired spirit emperor, high above others, cold, proud and aloof. But every night he sneaks into her room and takes liberties. “Little runt, won’t you think it over?”“Do I have a choice?”“You can choose from giving birth once or giving birth twice.”“Why must I?!”“Because you stole my heart.”

Chapter 38: “Artwork”

My heart pounded, remembering the nightmare I had that night.

That night, I also heard calls for help in the darkness.

It's exactly the same as the current situation.

Everything around me seemed to be happening again.

Sure enough, after a while, a beam of light suddenly lit up in the seemingly endless darkness. What appeared in the bright light was a large vase that was almost as high as my chin.

I thought of the woman in the vase without tongue, arms and feet, and her eyes that seemed to have a lot to say but also seemed empty.

I also remembered the joking "Help me".

The ridicule, as if it had caught prey, made my hair stand on end for a moment.

I tried to calm myself down.

It's okay, what I'm experiencing now is just everything this person has experienced in her life. Since I've felt it with her before, she couldn't take my body away before, and she definitely can't do it now.

As long as I don't get stuck in the emotions she creates.

I calmed down and took two steps towards the light with courage.

It was only when I walked away that I realized something was wrong.

My feet were shackled, and the lock between my feet was a little tight. I almost tripped when I took the first step, and I felt a pain from the friction of the metal shackles on my feet.

At the same time, what was different from last time was that the beam of light no longer just illuminated the square inch of the vase, but gradually expanded and gradually illuminated the entire world.

I finally saw clearly what kind of environment I was in and the situation around me.

As the light lit up little by little, I was shaken all over, as if some small bugs were crawling along my spine and on top of my head, and my hair almost stood on end.

Here... there is an entire room full of vases! Densely packed vases as tall as a person were crowded in the room, filling my field of vision.

These vases are tall and short, fat and thin.

It makes my scalp tingle.

If I hadn't experienced it last time, I might have thought I had stumbled into the room of some vase collector.

But...there are obviously people in these vases.

It's possible that like what I saw last time, they all had their tongues cut out, or their limbs chopped off, or...

There are obviously living people here, but the whole room is extremely quiet, deathly quiet, not even breathing can be heard.

I was furious, and instinctively wanted to escape, so I stumbled back toward the door.

There was a dull pain in my feet again.

Because I was in the dark just now, I didn't see my condition. Now, I looked at my feet. The area where the ankles were shackled by the iron shackles was red, swollen and broken. It was obvious that the original owner of this body had tried to struggle. .

I looked at the only exit in this room.

A rusty, seemingly heavy iron door.

I hammered the iron door twice with all my strength, but the door only made two dull thumping sounds, which actually made my fists hurt.

The two fists seemed to have used up all the energy I had stored, and I was starting to feel a little hungry.

I don’t know if it was the sound of me banging on the iron door that woke up the “vases” in this room, and the “people” in the vases began to make sounds one after another.

Because all their tongues were cut off, these people could only make vague roars like "ho ho". For a moment, I felt like I was surrounded by zombies.

But I know in my heart that compared to zombies, what is more terrifying is turning them into people in "vases" like this.

The sound in the vase gradually died down, and the room returned to deathly silence. I was getting hungrier and hungrier. In order to preserve my strength and body temperature, I sat down along the wall, curled up as much as possible, and fell into a drowsy state.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but suddenly there was a sound of metal colliding in my ears.

It was the sound of a key being inserted into the door lock, and then the rusty iron door creaked open. I suddenly woke up and looked towards the door quickly.

Two strong men walked in at the door first. Their dark skin, protruding eyeballs, thick lips and blunt noses were very characteristic of people from Southeast Asia.

What exactly is this place? Is it abroad? Then, I saw another person, a man with a sharp mouth and monkey cheeks.

There is a large gold chain hanging around the man's neck, but Buddhist beads are hanging on his wrists. The beads are wrapped around his arms, and the tattoos on his arms that are blocked by the beads can be vaguely seen.

The sparse beard crowded on his thin face, coupled with the exaggerated beer belly, made him look top-heavy, which was particularly unconventional.

A pair of small eyes rolled around, looking a bit ghostly, as if they were always testing something.

The man stepped into the door, looked around, and finally his eyes fell on me, and he suddenly smiled.

I don't know why, but I was trembling all over at this smile.

The original thought of escaping suddenly stopped. Now I just want to reduce my sense of existence.

Fortunately, this man with a sense of disobedience did not keep looking at me. Instead, he was led by the two strong men to one of the vases.

The man stood on tiptoes and looked into the vase for a while, then nodded to the strong man: "Okay, I want this."

This is a Chinese man, speaking Chinese.

The strong man smiled with a smile on his face, nodded and bowed, and answered him in Chinese with a bad accent: "Okay sir, we will send No. 48 to you later."

……

This is a transaction, and this man should be here to inspect the goods.

I can already vaguely sense what is going on here.

I've heard before that psychologically twisted people have some disgusting and special hobbies. For example, some people like to collect human body parts and collect them as trophies.

Some people like to collect bones or skins.

In the notorious concentration camps during World War II, people were skinned alive. The skins were then tanned and made into “arts” such as writing covers and fans.

What's more, they like to make "people" into "living dolls" for collection.

Just like the "people" in the vase here, big or small, fat or thin.

I don't even know if they are alive or dead, if they are whole or...dismembered...

I felt a chill in my heart.

If there is demand, there will be a market. Some people are willing to buy at a high price, and naturally some are willing to take risks.

In China alone, almost more than 1000 million people disappear every year. Some of these missing people may be lucky enough to be found years later.

But what is the fate of those who can no longer be found, whose traces have been erased bit by bit by time?

I looked at No. 48 being carried out, and felt a sense of sadness in my heart.

But before I could recover from my sadness, the dim light above my head was suddenly blocked by a figure, casting a shadow in front of me.

It's the man with the sharp mouth and monkey cheeks.

He had a smile on his face, stared at me with shining eyes, and said in a slightly hoarse voice:

"How can I sell this person?"

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