Chapter 93: Poison Fire Art: Jason Resurrected (Bonus Chapter)

Louis had already decided the purpose of these deformed people from the start: their violent souls perfectly suited the cultivation and deployment of the Poison Fire Art, while their corpses would be used to cultivate corpse-golems.

Since the corpse-golems haven’t succeeded yet, just freeze their bodies for later use.

After planning this out, Louis began attempting to cultivate the Poison Fire Art.

The Poison Fire Art originated from Zoroastrianism, also known as the Fire Worship religion, which adheres to dualistic cosmology and holds deep understanding of good and evil.

“So that’s why this art is like this.”

“The poison fire, fueled by burning the souls of evil men, is modeled after the torments of the eighteen layers of Hell.”

“The prerequisites are manageable: first, capture an evil man, then drain his blood for judgment, forcing him to confess his sins, and finally burn him alive—must ensure he dies by fire. Once you’ve burned eighteen, then…”

“Huh? Then I qualify to seek permission from the Hell or Fire Authority deities? And I must pass their trial?”

Louis frowned. Do all arts tied to religion require connection to deities?

I’m in another world now—where do I find Hell? And if I do, won’t they seize me first as a sorcerer? But the deity of Fire Authority…

“Old Man, looks like I’ll have to trouble you again.”

The Stove God is also a Fire God!

How can you light a stove without fire?

Louis immediately ran to the shrine beside the front house and began burning incense and praying.

Only one stick of incense was burned before he received a response.

A burning incense stick, blown by the wind, sent its fiery tip floating out—unnoticed, it landed on Louis’s forehead.

Sizzle!

In an instant, it felt as if his soul was being tortured.

But it lasted only an instant—Louis felt the pain for a moment, then it vanished. He touched his forehead and found his hand drenched in blood.

Looking in the mirror, he saw a vivid red flame mark newly branded on his forehead—it looked like real fire, alive and flickering as if stirred by wind.

At that moment, Louis also sensed a new perception—he could now ignite things at will.

“Thank you, Old Man.”

After bowing deeply and offering incense with utmost reverence,

Louis dashed back to the cave to begin testing—his requirement of eighteen souls meant nothing to someone who took the back door.

He slit the throats of three sheep with one cut.

“Baa! Baa!!”

The three beasts immediately tore free from their skins, blood gushing from their necks, yet they paid no heed—only weakly knelt on the ground, eyes blood-red, reaching out to grasp Louis.

“Good beasts—truly fierce. Excellent!”

He twisted the neck of one beast, then rotated its head half a circle—nearly severed it completely.

The two brothers beside him did the same. Soon, all three beasts were dead, their souls appearing in the cave.

Louis sensed the intense evil radiating from the three souls. Though he couldn’t measure its exact quantity, he felt they were pure evil—such malevolence was glaringly obvious in soul form.

With a thought,

Ignite!

Whoosh!

Instantly, emerald-green flames erupted across the three vile souls, emitting piercing shrieks—each soul twisted, elongated, blurred, grotesque, and horrifying…

“Stop. Store.”

Crack!

The flames vanished, leaving behind three small emerald-green stones, resembling agate—when stared at, faintly visible within were the screaming souls.

These were processed Poison Fire fuel.

“Moderately high malevolence, low soul quality—one stone burns… ten seconds?”

“Only ten seconds?”

Louis was dissatisfied—this was far too little.

“Fine. If deformed people are scarce, there are still ordinary ones. Later, I’ll kill two birds with one stone—no delay.”

Next, Louis practiced the deployment of the Poison Fire Art and the collection of Blood Curse Pearls, then refrigerated the three deformed corpses.

…

While Louis cultivated the Poison Fire Art,

Crystal Lake Town.

Night. Thunder rumbled overhead; a heavy rain seemed imminent.

Tang Mi stared in confusion at the fake Jason before him.

Though wearing the same baseball mask, this man’s build was not as muscular as Jason’s, moved sluggishly when killing, feared injury—compared to Jason, he was weak and inept, worlds apart!

“Die! Die!”

The fake Jason lay on the ground, pierced by spikes, flailing his knife uselessly while still screaming.

Tang Mi yanked off the fake Jason’s mask, revealing the face of a normal human killer.

“Of course—you’re not Jason.”

Tang Mi looked bored.

He returned to find Jason, to erase his childhood trauma—not to play with fakes.

After his mask was torn off, the fake Jason fell silent, feeling his life drain away, and gasped, “Heh… you want… to see Jason? Then I’ll tell you where he is.”

“Huh? Where is he?” Tang Mi’s eyes lit up.

“Heh… in the town… cemetery… there’s a grave… made by a priest… he brought Jason’s corpse there and buried it… said it was to soothe the soul… heh…”

Tang Mi nodded rapidly. “So he was buried. No wonder I couldn’t find him.”

“Heh… I’ll wait… for you… to join me down there!” The fake Jason shouted suddenly, then died.

Tang Mi didn’t care—he picked up his things with the fellow escapee from the asylum and headed for the cemetery. The two dug through the night without fear.

Soon, they uncovered the grave, revealing the corpse inside.

???

Looking at the half-decayed body before him, Tang Mi grew furious—this? This was the Jason he’d risked everything to escape the asylum for?

Enraged, he slammed the shovel hard onto Jason’s head, then grabbed a steel rod and drove it straight into Jason’s rotting body to vent his rage.

His companion helped by stabbing in more rods.

At that moment, the dark sky roared thunderously.

Boom!

A lightning bolt struck straight down, drawn by the steel rod like a lightning rod—blue-white light blinded them.

When the lightning faded, Jason’s corpse was rapidly repairing itself—flesh threads spread like spiderwebs, weaving swiftly; in an instant, his dried, rotting body regained its natural color.

Jason opened his eyes at once, without hesitation, sat up, and moved toward the nearest living thing.

He lunged with a heart-piercing grab.

Plop!

“Aaaah!!”

The companion screamed. Seeing the danger, Tang Mi decided to flee—he bolted in the opposite direction.

Amidst flashes of lightning and thunder, Jason picked up the baseball mask left behind by the fake Jason, put it on, and strode toward the town.

Thus, Jason was resurrected once more!

(End of Chapter)