Chapter 49: Seven Stars Seal the Mouth, Dragon

At dusk, black clouds crossed the sky, obscuring a crescent moon.

Taoyuan Square lay shrouded in nightfall, silent now, no longer bustling as by day; only a few scattered floor lights remained on—beacons illuminating the future of 996 office slaves.

Thirteenth floor, Shoupig Medical Technology Company.

When Zhang Fan arrived, the lights were still on, but no one was visible—everyone had likely already left at this hour.

“Is anyone here?”

Zhang Fan stepped inside, glancing around; no one answered. He did not enter the lobby—the reception desk was empty.

“Miss Tian?”

Zhang Fan called out toward the interior, still no reply. He pulled out his phone and sent a voice message to Wang Tiantian, informing her he was at the door.

Then, Zhang Fan wandered aimlessly through the lobby; the walls were plastered with success cases—rhinoplasty, breast augmentation, body slimming, and more.

As long as you pay, they can remake you entirely, granting you a more perfect physique and appearance.

Wang Tiantian told him many clients spent hundreds of thousands here, all high-tech procedures; after treatment, their bodies and faces became utterly outstanding.

With such heavy investment, they flaunted themselves on social platforms, polished their image, and could earn high prices—recouping costs within a single month.

The old saying goes: if the skin isn’t broken, the flesh isn’t damaged; self-reliance brings quick money. Once you pull up your pants, who says a girl isn’t virtuous?

To this end, their company launched “Beauty Loans,” “Slimming Loans,”... even a shadowy underground chain: they paid for all cosmetic packaging, but after success, clients must entertain various guests from politics and business—duration based on cost, ranging from half a year to two or three years.

Zhang Fan found this unsurprising; the He family had roots in spirit-medium practices and dabbled in both legal and illegal circles—they were never respectable, so their business had no taboos.

“Huh? How are you still out?”

Zhang Fan opened his phone and saw Wang Tiantian hadn’t replied. He turned toward the interior and stepped forward.

At that moment, Zhang Fan’s brow twitched—he smelled a faint trace of blood.

With his current physical condition, his senses were sharp; detecting such subtle odors was unremarkable, and in a medical company, blood scent wasn’t strange…

The only oddity was that this faint blood scent carried no vitality—in other words, it wasn’t from a living person.

Zhang Fan advanced slowly, reaching the innermost “Precision Research Room.” Wang Tiantian had mentioned this was the company’s core department, off-limits to ordinary staff.

But now, the door was slightly ajar—the blood scent here was strongest.

Zhang Fan hesitated briefly, then pushed the door open. The blood scent, nearly solid, rushed at him.

The scene before him made Zhang Fan’s face darken: dozens of pale, flayed skins hung suspended in midair, their grotesque, twisted features barely recognizable, hair scattered around them.

Strange talismans were drawn across each glistening white skin…

At the very back, a clay pool brimmed with crimson liquid; beside it stood seven lamps, six already lit, the seventh facing north, its flame flickering weakly.

“Miss Tian!?”

Zhang Fan’s expression changed—he saw Wang Tiantian seated inside the clay pool, eyes closed, seemingly without a breath.

The rootless tree, its flowers deep and dark—who in this red dust seeks enlightenment? Fleeting life, a boat adrift on the sea of suffering, drifting, unbound, never free…

At that moment, a cold, detached voice echoed softly.

Zhang Fan stared—and saw, beneath the white skins before the pool, another figure seated: He Fei.

Behind him stood a strange painting: a beast shaped like a pig, emaciated to bone, incense smoke swirling endlessly.

“Zhang Sanfeng’s poem is well-written: clinging to the red dust brings no freedom. Better to cultivate early and seek immortality…”

“But alas—trapped in the red dust, bound by circumstance, how can one escape to cultivate?”

He Fei sighed, his eyes holding a glimmer of worldly weariness.

“What are you doing?”

Zhang Fan’s gaze turned sharp, fixed on Wang Tiantian—he sensed no life from her.

“Seven Stars Seal the Mouth, Dragon’s Tooth Bites the Corpse, Flesh Offering to Living Sacrifice, Fierce Birth of Dragon’s Saliva…” He Fei said calmly.

Taoyuan Square sits atop the dragon’s mouth of a dragon vein in Jinning District; this room is the entire square’s greatest evil spot…

Seven Stars Seal the Mouth, Dragon’s Tooth Bites the Corpse…

In the past six months, six people have died in this company—only one more is needed to complete the sacrifice, reviving the dragon vein and enabling it to devour.

At that moment, the great evil spot will become like a dragon’s mouth, producing saliva… a Daoist treasure. In ancient times, when external alchemy flourished, it was said: if one obtains dragon saliva, one may meet the Celestial.

“You’re Zhang Fan… you’ve come just in time…”

He Fei looked up, his cold face breaking into a rare smile.

“You’re insane!”

Zhang Fan clenched his fists, his true yang surging—he prepared to advance.

Huh…

At that moment, a hand landed on his shoulder, yanking him violently backward.

“Sister Wen!?”

“Don’t go near—it’s the most dangerous place!”

Jiang Hu followed closely behind Wen He, pulling Zhang Fan aside, watching He Fei and the clay pool behind him with wary eyes.

“Someone who walks in darkness? This company truly hides dragons and tigers.” He Fei smiled faintly at Wen He.

“Director He, you’ve made too much noise…” Wen He shook her head, slowly removing her eyes. Her once gentle, warm smile vanished, replaced by a sharp, piercing gaze.

Tonight, Taoyuan Square’s qi surged wildly, the Yin turbidity surged, the dragon vein roared. If observed with the spirit, the great evil qi surged like living waves—not just Wen He, but even the cockroaches and rats in the office building felt intense unease.

“Director He, this ends here.” Wen He’s voice turned cold and lethal, no longer gentle as before—her words carried an unstoppable, rolling force.

“Oh? Miss Wen, you’re different now. Let me see what tricks you have.” He Fei smiled.

Wen He remained silent, forming hand seals, her beautiful face expressionless. Then she spoke one word.

“Evil Omen!”

“Ten Evils, Great Defeat!”

Roar…

Almost simultaneously, the entire building trembled slightly, as if shaken by an earthquake.

Zhang Fan’s face changed—his spirit stirred, hearing a strange sound, like a dragon’s roar shaking heaven and earth.

Wen He’s body trembled, her true yang collapsing…

Her technique, her method…

Failed before it even began!!

“How is this possible?” Wen He cried out.

“Have you ever seen a tiger feed?” He Fei said calmly.

“When a tiger feeds, no other beast dares to move. If even the king of beasts submits, how much more so a dragon vein?”

At these words, He Fei’s face curled into a chilling smile.

“The dragon vein has revived, dragon’s tooth bites the corpse, great evil slaughter, spirit returns to stillness…”

Now, Taoyuan Square is the dragon vein’s dining plate—its fangs bared. Cultivators’ spirits naturally freeze, bound in chains—how dare they defy its might? “Gluttony is the path to immortality…”

He Fei sneered, gazing at Wang Tiantian in the blood pool. The single unlit candle beside her flickered with a faint, eerie glow.

“It’s time to go.”

He Fei turned to Zhang Fan: “Same company—whether you die now or later, you still die…”

Hum…

No sooner had he spoken than a gush of blood surged behind him, like a fox’s tail, lashing toward Zhang Fan’s head. Even before it touched, the blade-like aura froze his bones.

“Zhang Fan!” Wen He screamed.

Boom…

At that moment, a thunderous crash echoed through the chamber—a figure appeared like a ghost or god, standing before Zhang Fan. A pale fist smashed the fox-tail blood aura to shreds.

“Jiang Lai!”

Zhang Fan stared at the girl before him—short hair, shoulder-length, her ethereal eyes filled with unwavering resolve.

(End of Chapter)