Tattooed Ghostmasters differ from Ghost Keepers. Ghost Keepers trap spirits in containers, while Tattooed Ghostmasters ink spirits directly onto their skin—their bodies becoming living vessels.
But both have weaknesses.
The weakness of a Ghost Keeper lies in the soul urn that houses the spirit. For a Tattooed Ghostmaster, the weakness is the exact location of the ghost tattoo on their body—where the spirit is bound.
To conceal this, Tattooed Ghostmasters cover themselves in various tattoos to confuse and mislead others. The four Zhao brothers had tattoos of closed-eye Buddhas, shoulder-crossing dragons, and more—classic misdirection.
Unfortunately for them, I'm not so easily fooled. With a single glance, I identified where each of their ghost tattoos resided:
Eldest Zhao: armpit.
Second Zhao: just above the waist.
Third Zhao: lower abdomen.
Fourth Zhao: his... private parts.
Judging by that last one, his ghost likely wasn't the most respectable type either. No wonder his eyes were full of lechery whenever he looked at Zhan Ling.
About ten minutes passed without any sign of Third Zhao returning from the mist, and his brothers started to look uneasy.
I seized the moment and stepped forward. "Big Brother Zhao, Third Brother's been in there a while with no movement. Something might've happened. I've heard geomancers can arrange Dragon-Dispersing Formations. Want me to check on him?"
Under the flashlight's beam, Big Zhao stared at me coldly. I gave a nervous smile, but inside I had already plotted my move: if I went in, I'd take care of Third Zhao first. If they sent someone else, two would remain outside—still a winnable fight for me.
But Big Zhao sneered and looked at Zhan Ling instead. "You go."
Zhan Ling understood what I was planning, and her face changed slightly.
My plan was falling apart. I quickly interjected, "Brother Zhao, Sister Zhan Ling injured her foot earlier. If she runs into trouble, she might not be much help. Let me go."
Second Zhao glared at me, barking, "You little bastard, who said you get to talk? If my brother says she goes, then she goes!"
My heart sank. Zhan Ling couldn't sense where the ghost tattoos were. If she went in, she might not be able to deal with Third Zhao. And I couldn't handle the three left outside alone.
Just as things looked bleak, a furious roar echoed from the mist.
I immediately recognized it as Huang Jiu pretending to be someone else. But the Zhaos wouldn't know that.
Big Zhao's expression changed at once. "Second! Go check on him."
Second Zhao gave me and Zhan Ling a nasty look before heading into the mist.
When his ghost manifested, I felt a chill down my spine.
A ghost infant. One to two years old. Skin black as coal, clinging to his head, flashing a mouth full of jagged teeth.
There's a saying: "A life cut short carries eight parts grievance." The younger the spirit, the more resentment it bears. Fortunately, it wasn't an aborted fetus—that would've been much worse.
Now, only Big Zhao and Zhao Four remained. My killing intent surged.
As their attention stayed locked on the mist, I whispered, "Sister Zhan Ling, Zhao Four's ghost is inked on... well, a private place. It hasn't separated yet. Can you handle it?"
Zhan Ling's eyes lit up. She gave a sultry smile. "That's the place I know best."
Uh…
I looked down shyly. But deep inside, a wild thought popped up—should I let Xiao Cui get familiar with mine too?
I shook off the thought and focused on Big Zhao. He was the most alert. His ghost was tattooed under his armpit, protected by crossed arms. Sneak attacks would be tough.
Unless I could pierce straight through his arm and hit the tattoo spot in one shot, I wouldn't be able to take him down instantly.
After half a month of training with Old Man Song, my balance had improved. I could feel the difference. During the black dragon incident at Su Dazhuang's parents' grave, when it suddenly erupted, I didn't fall. I even managed to draw my blood dagger mid-stumble and strike its weak point. Before training, I couldn't have done that.
But strength isn't built overnight. Right now, I wasn't confident.
Inside the formation, Huang Jiu continued making eerie noises. Big Zhao and Zhao Four kept their focus there.
Then, Zhan Ling made her move.
She walked up to Zhao Four and subtly pushed her arms together, accentuating her already ample chest. That push was like the Mariana Trench of male desire—unfathomably deep.
Zhao Four's eyes immediately locked on. His arm slid over her shoulders as he leered and muttered lewd things.
Like the demon hunters of old, these men lived rough and had few manners.
But I could tell—Zhan Ling wasn't that kind of woman. Even so, she leaned in with seductive charm and didn't resist his groping hands.
Zhao Four, grinning like a pig in heat, reached for her chest.
Zhan Ling subtly twisted her shoulder, blocking his hand with a coquettish laugh. "Four Brother, you're really impatient."
I had to admit—Zhan Ling was dangerously attractive.
I saw her hand gently caress Zhao Four's chest, then slowly move lower…
I completely forgot about Big Zhao. My eyes widened. Was this... adult life?
Damn, I gotta teach Xiao Cui a thing or two when I get home. She's my wife—legally.
Just the thought of her soft hands and innocent, pretty face made my breath quicken.
But then, Zhao Four's face suddenly turned from red to ashen. His features twisted in silent agony. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Then—crack.
I instinctively clenched my legs. Xiao Cui vanished from my mind in an instant.
"Oh—gah!"
Zhao Four howled like a wolf in pain.
Big Zhao finally reacted, but before he could speak, I lunged with my blood dagger.
Three inches below the armpit—I aimed to pierce his arm and the ghost tattoo with a single thrust.
It was precise. Swift.
Meanwhile, ghostly wind whipped around Zhao Four. His spirit tried to manifest, but only got halfway before dispersing completely.
Clearly, the tattoo was destroyed. But Zhan Ling had no blade... did she use her hands?
The thought made my skin crawl.
Before Zhao Four's scream even faded, my dagger had already struck Big Zhao's arm.
But I underestimated him. Though my blade sank to the bone, just as it was about to pierce through, his other hand clamped down hard, freezing my strike in place.
"You little bastard, you wanna die?" Big Zhao roared, kicking at me.
A gust of black wind surged from him. A headless ghost emerged—its severed head held in one hand. Its mouth opened with a creepy, raspy laugh—and chomped down on my dagger.
I sneered. What kind of freak bites a weapon with a detached head?
I channeled Dao energy into my blood dagger. Instantly, the blade flared with sun-born Yang Qi.
To the ghost, that searing masculine energy was like the midday sun blazing directly over a beached fish.