Night falls.
Inside Magnolia Manor, all is quiet.
In the freezer, the dried corpse bound with red cords opens its eyes, letting out dry, beast-like whimpers—sounds both mournful and wild.
One black and one red eye gleam coldly in his face.
As his voice echoes, the skinless corpse of Third Young Master Ding, lying outside on a coffin board, suddenly sits bolt upright.
Blank-faced, with a hollow eye socket, he climbs down from the board, turns, walks to the freezer, pulls open the door, and steps inside.
He kneels before the Ding Ancestor's corpse, bows three times, then rises and begins untying all the red cords from the ancestor's body.
Each time his skinless arm touches a red cord, it sizzles as if burning, the sound sharp and raw.
With every cord undone, another section of his arm burns away, black smoke rising, flesh and blood mangled.
By the time all the cords are off, half his already skinless arm has been burned to a bloody stump.
Boom!
The Ding Ancestor crashes to the ground, his face shriveled and cold as he stares at Ryan Ding.
Skinless Ryan Ding kneels before him. The Ding Ancestor places a hand on Ryan's head, opens his mouth but can't speak—only garbled, hoarse sounds emerge.
Suddenly, the Ding Ancestor grabs Ryan by the neck, lifts him up, and then opens his mouth wide.
Inside the ancestor's mouth is a pitch-black cavern lined with beast-like fangs, but no tongue.
His jaw unhinges, mouth stretching nearly a meter wide.
He swallows Ryan Ding whole in a single gulp.
Ryan's corpse can't even struggle—it's hopeless.
After swallowing Ryan, the Ding Ancestor's withered muscles ripple, his dried-up body becoming fuller and stronger.
He walks out of the freezer, glancing back at the other corpses inside.
At some point, all the corpses that had been lying there open their eyes, their gazes icy as they fix on the Ding Ancestor.
With a wave of his hand, the corpses snap to attention like soldiers receiving an order. They rush out of the freezer and head straight for the warehouse door.
As they near the door, golden talismans slowly appear on its surface.
The talismans glow faint gold, merging into a shimmering barrier.
The corpses howl and hurl themselves at the golden barrier, slamming into the door with flesh and blood over and over.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Heavy, muffled crashes echo again and again.
Outside, high in a tree crowned by moonlight, a Daoist in a yellow surcoat sits cross-legged on a branch.
He holds a peachwood sword, wears straw shoes, framed by a full moon whose pale light bathes him in a lonely, desolate glow.
After a long while, the Daoist slowly opens his eyes, gazing at the warehouse door, eyes gleaming: "More than fifty years... I’ve waited over fifty years for this. Finally, it’s here!"
The Daoist's face is gaunt and shriveled, eyes burning with feverish excitement. He looks ancient—like a candle flickering in the wind, ready to go out at any moment.
Look closely and you'll see his yellow surcoat isn’t the usual Taoist robe with bagua symbols. Instead, it's covered in intricate patterns identical to the soul-suppressing talismans on the warehouse door.
From head to toe, he's draped in talismans. The yellow surcoat is old and tattered.
"Come on, break out! Don’t disappoint me! Fifty-five corpses, the distilled essence of fifty-five masters—this will be the strongest corpse body!"
The Daoist’s face is flushed with excitement, eyes blazing as he stares at the warehouse door.
Suddenly, all the talismans on the door ignite, golden light flaring as thunderous booms roll out like a storm.
The entire warehouse shakes violently.
Finally, after a long wait, a massive crash erupts.
Smoke and dust swirl everywhere.
"Roar!"
Out of the dust, a savage howl rings out.
The Ding Ancestor plants one foot on the ground and launches himself at the Daoist, moving at terrifying speed.
He slices through the air, swinging a fist straight for the yellow-robed Daoist’s face.
He’s there in a blink.
The Daoist sneers, eyes full of disdain, rises slowly, and coldly declares, "You’re a corpse I raised—how dare you strike at me!"
"If not for me, you’d have rotted away ages ago!"
He snorts, swiftly sketches a complex sigil in the air, and slaps it toward the Ding Ancestor.
Boom!
The intricate sigil collides with the ancestor’s fist, erupting in golden light that swallows the punch’s force completely.
Then the Daoist steps in, stomps down on the ancestor’s crown, driving him straight into the ground.
The Ding Ancestor’s body slams into the ground. The Daoist pulls something from his robe, shakes it out in midair, and tosses it to the floor.
The object drifts down lightly, instantly forming a human shape on the ground.
It’s a shriveled human skin, its features seventy percent like Second Young Master Ding.
Any Ding family member would recognize it immediately—it’s Ryan Ding’s skin!
The skin stands shakily, then slowly floats toward the Ding Ancestor.
Seeing this, the ancestor’s eyes blaze with fury. He howls, leaps up, and hurls a fist, sending gusts of force to blast the skin far away.
The skin is flung a great distance by the wind.
But it rises again, crooked and stubborn, and continues drifting toward the ancestor.
"Ha! It’s useless. All these years, I could’ve taken your corpse, but I waited for Ryan Ding’s perfect skin!"
"Human-Skin Ghost Garment—even Yama can’t handle it! Once I put on this skin and take your corpse, I’ll vanish from this world. You’re worthless now!" The Daoist’s eyes gleam coldly as he cackles. "And Wang Huhan’s heart? That’s the real treasure—I can’t wait to be reborn! This rotten shell has tormented me for years, but now, finally, I’ll live again!"
Ryan Ding’s skin floats after the ancestor, who howls and tries to flee, but no matter where he goes, the skin clings to him like a maggot to bone.
At last, the skin catches him!