Rituals
Soul-Whip 10: Scapegoat
I had been kidnapped. Me-a burly man nearly two meters tall, with a face that made me look like Zhang Fei-had somehow been abducted and dragged deep into the mountains! I woke up briefly during transport. My hands and feet were bound in iron chains as thick as a forearm, and the slightest movement made a tremendous racket. I didn’t stay conscious for long. Soon, I passed out again. When I woke up the next time, I was lying inside a dilapidated wooden hut. The moment my senses began to return, I caught a thick, overwhelming stench.
Soul-Whip 11: Life-Soul Seizing Art
On the day the Ghost Gate Opens, those of us who drove long-haul trucks knew better than to travel at night.
But that night, I was driving alone down the road to an old public cemetery.
Halfway there, I pulled into a gas station.
After the attendant finished filling my tank, he seemed to work up every ounce of courage he had before asking in a trembling voice, “Sir… why is your windshield covered in little kids’ handprints?”
I shook my head at him.
I knew it wasn’t just the windshield.
By then, my entire truck was already crawling with them.
