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墨書 Inktalez
Three people stood beside the white jade platform, invisible to anyone else. The scene before them was brutal, but the girl wanted them to see it. Sang Qingxiao forced herself to continue watching.
Misha grabbed Yuanhui, who was struggling to cope, and pressed his head close to the girl's face, just a finger's width apart. "Open your eyes and look! Understand this! Your Muyu comes from this little girl. She's only ten and is enduring tortures a thousand times worse than Lingchi! That Skull was obtained in this way—do you still dare to look away?"
Yuanhui shut his eyes tight and pressed his lips together in silence. He was afraid, forcing himself not to tremble. He had seen the origins of the Skull in words before, but nothing compared to witnessing it firsthand.
Yet as he thought about it, he realized these were not his actions; why should he be afraid or feel guilty? Suddenly, a surge of defiance rose within him. He felt sorry for these girls, but at the same time, he was grateful for their sacrifice.
"What did you say?!" Under Misha's pressure, Yuanhui struggled to argue back. The deaths of these girls had contributed to the Buddha Cultivation of Ton Sect, enhancing its power and benefiting the local families. From this perspective, these girls had died for a worthy cause.
"Yuanhui, how can you even say such nonsense!"
After spouting this theory, Yuanhui became more convinced of his own reasoning. He straightened his back further and felt more justified. One death could benefit thousands; that was a bargain worth making.
Moreover, the people of Ton Sect were already dead; I agree with what they did—why are you angry with me? The available artifacts are not free; even Heaven recognizes them—what right do you have to blame me?
Heaven must be blind!
Amitabha, speak cautiously! Speak cautiously! Misha, there are countless paths on the road to enlightenment; I choose my own—you have no say in it!
Ignoring the argument between Yuanhui and Misha, Sang Qingxiao held back her tears and continued watching the girl's plight. Inside, she recited sutras silently in mourning for her.
At the moment when the High Monk extracted the Skull, cheers erupted throughout the crowd. The bloody scene attracted countless eagles circling above. The High Monk waved his sleeve upward and fed the flesh he had removed to the hungry birds.
The last traces of blood on the jade platform were dealt with by the girl's relatives. Her parents witnessed everything up close; compared to other relatives who laughed heartily, they appeared much more subdued.
The girl's mother shed a few tears—just a few—but as her younger son tugged at her hand and bounced along the way home, she once again revealed a hopeful smile.
At that moment, the scene shifted. Sang Qingxiao saw the process of skin being added to bones. The High Monks, as meticulous craftsmen, discussed continuously over freshly peeled bones that still seemed warm, striving for perfection and unwilling to waste even a bit of material.
The High Monk, who had taken action, was now stroking the girl's skin, his eyes filled with satisfaction, admiration, and awe. He publicly declared that he would keep her for himself.
The scene shifted again to reveal a room dedicated to storing Skulls. Not just one, but many, each placed in its own compartment, filling the walls. The Skulls were categorized by rank, with those completely undamaged displayed prominently on high pedestals.
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