C4 (1/2)

After the smoke dissipated in spirals, the room was completely silent. Fang Zishu sat there blankly, not saying a word, remaining in his original position without moving an inch.

The note next to him waited for a long time, but seeing no reaction from the prescription, it became somewhat impatient.

”Zi Shu, you …”

Before he could finish his words, Fang Zishu suddenly moved the bottle in his left hand, and the liquid inside the bottle began to slowly flow out.

Although it looked like there were a lot, when he poured it out, he realized that there were only seven or eight small drops that landed on the yellow paper.

Fang Zishu's expression was grave as he lifted up the middle finger of his right hand. It was already pitch black, and faint traces of burns could be seen.

”Imprint of the Heavenly Dao, imprint upon the heavens. May the spirit of the great general be sealed within.”

He tapped the yellow paper with his middle finger, and the black liquid began to draw.

It was strange to say that the black liquid, drawn with the recipe book, slowly turned blood-red. A pungent smell of blood spread out from the yellow paper, causing people to frown.

”I request the soul of the general!” The Soul Traversing Ten Thousand Arts is hidden in the heart. ”

Fang Zhushu yelled out as he looked at the stairs that led to the second floor. At this moment, the painting on the yellow paper was already a third complete.

”Swish.”

The sound of someone's footsteps could be heard from the top of the stairs. It was most likely a single step.

”Someone's here?”

The first reaction of the note was to reach for the gun at his waist, but when he turned his head, he saw Fang Zhoushu looking at him, his warning was self-evident.

He could only retract his hand in embarrassment. Although he no longer took out the gun, he was still nervous. This was a place where no one had been here for more than ten years, so why would there be footsteps here? If he hadn't heard it personally, no one would have believed him.

Only after seeing the slip of paper stop did Fang Zishu's expression ease up a little, but he still wore a serious expression.

Despite all that had happened, his hands did not stop moving. Only two or three breaths had passed since the sound of his footsteps. At this moment, the painting on the yellow paper was almost two-thirds complete.

”Please, Great General!” God's might is unrivaled, straight down to the small town! ”

Just as his voice fell, a creaking sound came from the top of the pavilion. The wooden board on top of it had already rotted away, as if someone had stepped on it, causing the wooden board to groan.

Above the pavilion, countless dust began to fall through the gaps between the wooden planks, falling onto Fang Zhoushu and the banknotes. The two of them quickly became natives.

Fang Zishu's gaze was still fixated on the yellow paper, and the note was staring intently at the staircase.

The flashlight shone on the book, imprinting his back on the stairs. The unintentional actions of the book made the policeman feel a sense of foreboding. He wanted to move the flashlight, but he was afraid of disturbing the movements of Fang Zhushu's hand, so he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

”Tick, flick, vertical, horizontal …”

The innermost part of the book kept chanting, but the movements of his hands became more and more stiff, as if the Soul Suppressing Talisman was getting harder and harder to draw.

At some point, Fang Zishu's forehead had been covered in sweat, causing the bangs on his forehead to fall powerlessly to the side, looking extremely weak.