Plate 104: The Dead Deserve Their Fate

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[PS: Yesterday, the mobile version on channel 103 was inaccessible. In the end, the editor stepped in to resolve the issue but accidentally posted the chapter twice, causing some readers to subscribe repeatedly and waste a small amount of money. To apologize, today’s third update will be followed by the next one at 2:05. Thank you for your support.]

The next patient had only been dead for two days, but having suffered prolonged illness for years, the once comfortable family was now heavily indebted. The patient’s will to live was extremely weak, making the soul retrieval all the more complicated.

Sang Sang examined the deceased and saw that the body remained intact, though it had withered to a desiccated corpse due to spiritual energy dispersion. She said, “I have a new idea. When you see it, don’t interrupt me under any circumstances.”

Picking up a palette and brush, Sang Sang did not use paper; instead, she began painting directly on the patient's body.

Yan Yanrong’s face was filled with concern. Having studied many methods of resurrection, she guessed Sang Sang’s plan. Using the original body to revive the soul could aid soul retrieval, but restoring vitality to a lifeless body was ten times more difficult than painting a new one. Unless it was a close friend or family member, or someone extremely confident in their power, no one would dare attempt it—especially since this patient had been bedridden for years, requiring not only revival but also healing. The difficulty was immense.

Sang Sang painted the meridians and acupuncture points with precision, then switched to white pigment to inscribe gathering and fusion runes all over the patient’s body. Finally, she drew the soul retrieval rune on the forehead and carefully placed the patient into a medium-sized gestation pool, observing the spiritual energy within, making subtle adjustments as needed.

Yan Yanrong watched in amazement as the patient’s withered frame gradually plumped up, the color shifting from a dull grayish-blue to a fair and rosy hue. The chest began to rise and fall with breath. Her eyes widened, flicking nervously between Sang Sang and the improving patient.

Was it really this easy?

When their teacher had revived the senior brother, he had only just passed an hour earlier, with spiritual energy only beginning to dissipate. The teacher, also a grand painter, had nearly failed from exhaustion. Could the difference really be so vast at the heavenly rank?

News of Sang Hongye’s ability to revive original bodies spread quickly. Those coming for treatment were no longer just the lower classes seeking freebies; prominent families and even nobles began appearing at the clinic. Their presence transformed the once harmonious and busy clinic into a chaotic and tense place.

“Who is Sang Hongye?!”

An arrogant young voice rang out. Soon, the door to the treatment room was kicked open. Everyone inside—including Yan Yanrong and the patient’s family—stepped back and bowed their heads in respect. Only Sang Sang remained unfazed, continuing to paint steadily and confidently on the patient.

The youth stood before her, towering over her with disdain. “You’re Sang Hongye? I’ve heard you’re masquerading as royalty and breaking the Yun family’s prohibition. Who gave you the audacity?”

Sang Sang appeared not to hear, continuing her work.

“How dare you! Don’t think just because you’re a grand painter you’re impressive. I am a grand painter too. My family has countless heavenly-rank elders, yet you dare to look down on the Yun family!” The youth was furious and raised his foot to stomp.

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Sang Sang was painting the patient’s lower abdomen, and the youth’s foot came down exactly on the patient’s face.

*Pfft—*

A dull cracking sound, like a watermelon splitting. The patient’s desiccated skull shattered, dry as cracked clay, oozing red and white sticky paste.

“Gross.” The youth frowned in disgust, but only because his shoe had gotten dirty. He stuck his foot, shoe and all, into the gestation pool to wash it.

The onlookers were furious. The patient’s family clenched their fists but dared not speak.

Sang Sang finally looked up, her expression unreadable.

The youth sneered, “As expected, a lowly wretch. Only when I get harsh do you listen.”

Sang Sang glanced at the shattered skull, then the foot stirring the pool, frowning slightly. “You interrupted a resurrection ritual.”

“A worthless peasant, good riddance to both nation and family. Why bother reviving!” The youth withdrew his foot and stood, looking down on Sang Sang. “Listen, since you dare break the Yun family’s prohibition, I challenge you to a duel—”

Before he could finish, Sang Sang suddenly pushed him to the ground and stomped on him.

No one reacted in time. Even the youth’s companions were caught off guard. The youth himself was stunned, staring wide-eyed as the sole of Sang Sang’s delicate, intricately engraved shoes approached, then *pfft*—a muffled explosion, and it was over.

Sang Sang withdrew her foot. “Better to die quickly and be reborn.”

Unlike before, the youth was alive; his head had exploded in a gruesome mess of blood and brain matter scattered everywhere. The scene was horrifying—ten times worse. Yet Sang Sang’s shoe sole remained spotless, untouched by a single droplet of blood. The splattered gore seemed to instinctively avoid her direction, leaving her perfectly clean and expression unchanged. Even witnessing this, no one could believe she was the killer.

“Ah!”

Someone screamed, wiping blood from their face.

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Only then did the Yun family’s servants come to their senses, stunned and unwilling to believe their grand painter’s heir had been killed so easily.

He was a grand painter, protected by spiritual power, impervious to blades, armed with defensive gear. Even at his most arrogant, a heavenly-rank expert couldn’t take him down. How could a delicate woman’s single stomp shatter his face, blowing his head apart like that?

Was it a nightmare?

The heir was the legitimate successor, meant to compete in the grand painting contest and attend the Sacred Palace. He absolutely could not die here!

“Quiet.” Sang Sang’s voice, though soft, cut clearly through the chaos, instantly silencing the room.

“The gestation pool is contaminated. Move me to another room,” she told Yan Yanrong, then looked to the patient’s family. “The body is damaged beyond repair. We’ll have to switch to a new one for resurrection. But this one cannot be wasted—come with me.”

Yan Yanrong followed her in a daze. As Sang Sang passed, the Yun family dared not block her way, quickly clearing a path, shielding their dead heir’s body. Since the vitality had not fully dissipated, the head could regenerate, and revival would not affect strength. But the cost was tremendous. Whether the family’s elders would accept that was uncertain.

Perhaps Sang Sang’s terrifying stomp was a deterrent. Outsiders dared not cause trouble, and insiders, calculating the force needed to crush a grand painter’s helmeted head with one step, shivered and dared not act rashly. As a result, the nobles visiting the clinic behaved far more obediently.

The Yun family was frustrated, only daring to quietly harass those Sang Sang had revived earlier. Unfortunately, those patients immediately moved away, their whereabouts unknown. Unable to gauge Sang Sang’s power, the family pinned hopes on the upcoming martial arts competition to pit their strongest warrior against her and strike when the opportunity arose.

For Sang Sang, this was just a minor incident. The dead were meant to die. She was merciful enough not to stop their resurrection. Unfazed, she revived several more patients with varying causes of death, then returned to the dormitory of the Danxia Painting Academy where she had yet to spend a single night.

The grand painter competition had concluded. Tomorrow would begin the literary contest for grand painters.

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