Chapter 47: 46, The Thought-Demon Root Aspect

46, The Thought-Demon Root Aspect

PS: Chapter 45 has been polished and its plot adjusted; those who haven't seen it can refresh to view the changes.

"Dad... wuwuwu... I'm scared, Dad, come save me..."

Inside the woodshed, a child's mournful sobs came in broken intervals.

Suddenly, he heard a burst of frantic footsteps outside.

He hurriedly climbed off the woodpile, carefully approached the woodshed door which already had many cracks, and peered out through the fissures—

Outside was pitch black, not a single ray of light; the child could see nothing.

The faint hope that had just risen in the child's heart instantly turned into even heavier despair.

He pressed against the woodshed door and began to wail again: "I want to go home, Dad, save me and take me home, wu..."

At that moment, he suddenly noticed that the impenetrable darkness behind the woodshed door began to writhe violently—that deep, unyielding black was actually a woman's head full of tangled hair!

As her black hair danced, her terrifying, deathly pale face also came into the child's view!

She extended a bony arm and slashed a huge hole in the woodshed's wooden door!

Wood chips and splinters rained down over his head and face; the child froze in place, forgetting to cry and forgetting to dodge!

Fear rose like a tide from his heart, about to completely drown him!

At this moment, a palm wrapped tightly in black iron wires suddenly reached out from behind the long-haired woman's head—

That large hand covered the woman's terrifying face, flipping her entire figure backward!

A tall, thin man wearing tattered short clothes appeared in the huge hole slashed in the woodshed door; through the swaying door, he faced the child with a pale face.

"Child, don't look.

It will be over soon." The man grinned.

His figure appeared in the hole behind the woodshed door for a while, then vanished without a trace.

The sky outside the hole was pitch black; the fear that was about to drown the child slowly receded a bit. He curled up in the corner of the woodshed, listening to dull sounds outside for a while, until finally, accompanied by a woman's shrill scream, everything came to an abrupt halt.

Zhou Chang knelt, pressing down on Li Xiamei's chest; he held Li Xiamei's chin with both hands, just as before—

Threads of iron thought flowed from his fingertips, piercing through Li Xiamei's skin, stitching carefully around her eyes, ears, and nostrils, circle after circle.

Until finally, after she let out a high-pitched shriek, he stitched her mouth shut.

Not far away.

That headless body of Li Xiamei, having burned away all the nourishing qi on its body, still failed to retrieve the head that Ao Duoji had snatched away.

The headless body, blackened by the scorching flames, and the head held in Ao Duoji's mouth, both turned into green smoke and vanished into the world.

Li Xiamei, whose eyes, ears, mouth, and nostrils Zhou Chang had stitched shut, likewise turned into a cloud of gray ash. This ash drifted around Zhou Chang; smelling the lingering nourishing thoughts within the ash, Zhou Chang saw some old yet profound memories:

Before a dim yellow oil lamp.

A man with broad shoulders and a square face held a clay pot; he used a spoon to scoop a ladleful of oily soup from the pot, in which floated a human little finger.

With a cold expression, the man fed this ladleful of meat soup to the woman lying on the bamboo bed.

The woman's long hair fell smoothly behind her; gazing at the man's face with infinitely gentle eyes, as if unaware, she swallowed that ladleful of meat soup containing the human finger, chewing slowly before swallowing.

After drinking all the soup in the clay pot and eating all the meat inside, she carefully asked the man who was about to stand up: "There isn't much money left in the family, is there? Is there enough to buy the medicinal guide for this 'Ghost Mother Prescription'?

If, according to the prescription, after eating it for forty-nine days, the child in the belly still doesn't wake...

What should we do?"

"It won't happen." The man stood up, his expression cold and hard. "You don't need to worry about the money.

At worst, I'll sell that donkey.

Rest first; I'll go feed that donkey."

"Good." The melon-faced woman with waist-length hair hesitated to speak, then finally nodded in agreement.

She watched the man leave the house, then closed her eyes to rest for a while.

After eating this medicinal meat stewed according to the 'Ghost Mother Prescription', one always feels somewhat drowsy.

The woman, with her eyes closed, slept in a daze; it seemed she heard the old donkey at home braying, its cry sounding like laughter:

"Uh—ah—hahaha—uh..."

In her trance, she seemed to see her husband throwing some bloody objects into the old donkey's trough in front of the shed.

The old donkey picked up those chunks of meat, chewed them slowly, then burst into a fit of laughter—

The dream ended here; the woman was suddenly scared awake.

She wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and looked at the oil lamp on the table.

The oil in the lamp had been used nearly halfway; why hadn't her husband, who went to feed the donkey, returned yet?

The woman felt somewhat worried in her heart.

Fortunately, not long after, her husband returned.

He held an even larger clay pot and sat in front of the woman.

On that face which never smiled, there was now a vivid smile.

He raised his head, looking at the woman; a faint ring of blood circled his neck.

Seeing her husband's pale face and the large clay pot he brought, the woman felt something was wrong.

But before she could speak, she heard her husband say first: "Come, come, the prescription has arrived... After eating this prescription, you and your child will surely be resurrected—"

The lamp flame flickered, casting the man's shadow on the ground.

On the shadow of the man with broad shoulders and a square back sat a donkey head with long ears.

He reached out, and from that large clay pot, he lifted the head of the woman's husband, who was never one to smile.

"Eat."

The Think-Demon with a donkey's head, holding a human head, spoke to the woman.

"What is this?"

Zhou Chang stood up and opened his left palm toward Bai Xiue, who was approaching.

On the tightly woven iron thought-thread net on his left hand, a pair of pitch-black lips had now grown.

Those lips opened and closed, revealing sharp, fanged teeth inside, covered in saliva.

Zhou Chang tried to gather the thought threads and eliminate the terrifying lips and teeth growing on this thought-thread net, but as he gathered the threads, this terrifying mouth appeared on the left-hand portion of the thought-clothing in his mind.

He could not remove this terrifying mouth now.

"This is the 'Root Form' of Li Xiamei becoming a Think-Demon.

In the Secret Realm, those great monks have methods to nurture this 'Root Form', making it their own 'Dharma Protector Deity'.

You lack the ability; do not rashly feed it.

Otherwise, Li Xiamei might be re-nurtured by you." Bai Xiue looked at the terrifying mouth on Zhou Chang's hand, her expression grave. "When it finally dissipated, among the residual emotions, there must have been thoughts of extreme hatred toward you...

That is why it has set its sights on you."

"Then, here with me, it should have no possibility of reviving." Zhou Chang grinned.

Bai Xiue fell silent for a moment, yet could not help but say to Zhou Chang: "You turned back just now. Did you... feel your own 'Omen of Death'?"