Chapter 7: Amateurs in Burial, Professionals in Fleeing
1180 Words
Ren Qing narrowed his eyes—he knew he couldn’t be mistaken.
No matter how dim the prison’s torches burned, the Sightless Technique had granted him some degree of night vision.
Besides, the human skin had left faint traces of blood.
Ren Qing signaled Li Mian and the other two to stay alert before moving toward the corpse of a fireworker near the edge.
He thought back carefully—the jailer they had encountered earlier had been clutching a piece of human skin. The two had to be connected.
Which meant there was likely more than one living human skin hiding in this prison.
Ren Qing dared not let his guard down. His eyes darted around, scanning their surroundings.
After a brief moment of panic, the group began handling the corpses with practiced efficiency.
They took out needles and thread from their pockets and sewed the corpses’ eyes, ears, mouths, and noses shut—a method said to suppress the resentment of those who died in agony.
Ren Qing felt utterly unprofessional, completely unaware of these taboos.
"Holy s**t—!!!"
One of the fireworkers suddenly screamed. As he tried lifting a corpse, its skin peeled away like tofu at the slightest touch, revealing nothing but bare bones beneath. The flesh and blood had vanished.
The rumors about the prison had already put everyone on edge. Now, faced with such a grotesque corpse, fear took hold of them all.
A few of the younger fireworkers even broke down sobbing, plunging the scene into chaos.
Just then, a fireworker clad in leather armor stepped forward, cursing loudly.
"The sooner we move the bodies out, the sooner we get the hell out of here. Is that so hard to understand?"
Though the fireworkers all wore face-covering headscarves, Ren Qing recognized the voice—it was the middle-aged fireworker from the meeting hall.
Unexpectedly, this supervisor had personally entered the danger zone.
The crowd fell silent as the man raised his voice.
"I’m Bo Feng. You’ve probably heard my name before."
Ren Qing was taken aback. Even someone as isolated as him knew of Bo Feng—rumored to have the lowest casualty rate among his subordinates.
He was also known for leading missions personally, a rarity among supervisors.
Bo Feng exhaled sharply before continuing, "If you want to make it out alive, calm down and listen to me."
"Right now, everyone—tie the red strings."
The group, as if finding their backbone, pulled out red cords and fastened them around the corpses’ limbs before lifting them steadily.
Some fireworkers fumbled—likely having been taught the technique just before the mission.
Only Ren Qing’s group of four stood out, unprepared even with the red strings, looking utterly out of place among these professional morticians.
Bo Feng approached and handed Ren Qing a few cords.
"Do you know how to tie them? Need me to—"
"No need. Thanks."
Before Bo Feng could finish, Ren Qing—enhanced by the Sightless Technique—had already secured the corpse’s limbs.
Bo Feng gave a slight nod before moving to assist others.
Ren Qing’s group quickly adapted to the corpse-carrying technique, and the rest made their preparations without incident.
To prevent accidents, they worked in groups of five—four carrying the corpse while the fifth stood ready to replace anyone.
Naturally, this slowed progress significantly. At this rate, it would take at least three trips to move all the bodies outside.
Ren Qing declined Bo Feng’s offer to assign them extra hands—he couldn’t risk exposing the abnormality of his eyes to outsiders.
He turned to Xiao Wu and the others. "When we’re carrying the corpse, no matter what you hear—don’t look back."
"Understood, sir."
"And one more thing—"
Ren Qing’s gaze hardened. "Unlike the groups of five, there are only four of us. If one of us falls, the rest die with them."
"Stay focused. Understood?"
Xiao Wu and the others answered in unison, "Understood."
Once all preparations were complete, Bo Feng led the way toward the exit, the rest following half a meter apart.
Though Ren Qing’s position near the edge was theoretically more dangerous, it gave him a clear view of the entire operation.
As they moved slowly, he noticed not just the human skins—several insects lurked in the shadows.
Ren Qing dismissed them with a glance, focusing on keeping the corpse steady.
The heavy footsteps echoed endlessly.
What should have been a few minutes’ walk now felt like an eternity, every step fraught with tension.
Miraculously, they made it unscathed—the staircase to the upper level was just ahead.
Then, a group of five suddenly quickened their pace, breaking formation to rush toward the stairs.
Bo Feng cursed under his breath. In a forbidden zone, any reckless action could spell disaster—and one misstep could doom them all.
The five had clearly planned this, but their lack of coordination caused the corpse to jolt.
That slight disturbance was enough—the corpse’s skin sloughed off entirely, the skeleton crashing to the ground with a loud clatter.
Like dominoes, the rest of the group stumbled into each other, some even tearing their clothes and exposing bare skin.
Ren Qing’s eyes widened—he distinctly saw several shadows darting past.
Before anyone could react, the five who had broken away collapsed simultaneously, their deaths mirroring the fireworkers at the staircase.
Having tasted blood, the human skins had no intention of letting the rest escape. They slithered across the floor, closing in swiftly.
Ren Qing gritted his teeth and whispered, "Slow your steps—move left three meters."
Xiao Wu and the others obeyed without hesitation, narrowly dodging an attacking skin while those nearby weren’t so lucky.
"Right three meters."
"Forward-left five meters."
Ren Qing directed them calmly, their path through the prison appearing erratic but every step deliberate.
The fireworkers scattered like rats, hoping sheer numbers would save them.
But the moment the skins touched living flesh, they burrowed inside—draining their victims of blood and muscle in seconds.
Tears streamed from Ren Qing’s eyes, his vision burning with pain.
He realized the skins were herding them, leaving only one gap—the staircase leading to the third underground level.
"Drop the corpse!!"
All four released their hold as Ren Qing roared, "The only way out is underground! Follow if you want to live!"
He turned and sprinted toward the stairs, Xiao Wu and the others right behind him.
The survivors followed suit, desperate to escape.
Ren Qing wasn’t acting out of pure altruism—if only his group fled, they’d stand out too much.
Once inside the stairwell, he noticed the skins hesitated, refusing to pursue.
"We’re safe here. Rest for now."
Ren Qing swallowed several pig’s eyes to stave off his exhaustion.
About twenty to thirty people staggered into the stairwell, still dazed, collapsing where they stood.
Ren Qing did a quick count—of the hundred who had entered, fewer than forty remained.
The losses were devastating.
- Writer
