Slaying God: I, the insane and witty god

Chapter 766: The Secret of the Fishing Village Revealed

The sound of the tide receded a little, bringing with it a salty smell that seeped into the wooden windows of the fishing village.

Wu Hen squatted in front of Aunt Wang's stove, using a branch to pick at the remains of a short knife. The black handle of the knife was stained with stove ash.

When he picked it up like that, a very fine scratch was revealed - like a curled up snake, or a burnt talisman.

"Nanaye, come and look at this."

He poked the mark with the tip of the branch, and when he looked up, he saw Lin Qiye walking towards him, stepping on the green ropes on the ground.

There was still a half-burned dark-patterned scale hanging on the scabbard, "Can this thing be burned through?

I always feel that the cry just now didn’t sound like it was made by a knife.”

Lin Qiye squatted down and brushed the blade with his knuckles.

There were calluses on his palms from years of holding the sword, and when he rubbed the marks,

The serpentine pattern suddenly turned a very light blue, like ink soaked in warm water.

"The Demon Suppression Division's 'Records of Evil Things', Volume 13, records the 'Blood-Feeding Blade'."

His voice was low, mixed with the crackling of the embers in the stove.

"Feed the resentment of the living for twenty years, and the blade will grow dark scales, and the sound of the blade will be like a baby crying. It will only bite those with kind hearts, because the blood of the soft-hearted is the most conducive to resentment."

"Fuck." Wu Hen leaned back and hit his back against the earthen wall.

"So Aunt Wang and the others have been delivering porridge to the five-guarantee households for three years, and now they're feeding this evil creature?"

He took out the bronze medallion of the Demon Suppression Division from his waist and turned it twice in his hand. "What about the Black King?"

"Is the thing attached to Cao Yuan's chain the same as this knife?"

“The Black King is a cover.”

Lin Qiye's fingertips pressed against the snake pattern on the knife shell, "The real master is here."

He looked out the window—Wang Bo was squatting at the gate, smoking a pipe, his silver beard twitching in the sea breeze.

"Just now, Mrs. Zhang said that Uncle Wang was the village priest twenty years ago?"

Wu Hen followed his gaze and saw Uncle Wang knocking his pipe against the door sill, sparks splashing on the green rope.

"Old man, you're so tight-lipped." He sneered, stood up and patted the dust off his trouser legs.

“I’ll go ask.”

Uncle Wang's pipe gleamed with oil in the moonlight.

As soon as Wu Hen squatted down beside him, he smelled the scent of aged sandalwood.

The fishy smell mixed with the sea breeze went straight into my nose.

"Uncle, when you were a priest, have you ever seen this kind of knife?"

He handed over the knife, and the snake pattern flickered in the dim light before dawn.

Uncle Wang's hand suddenly trembled, and the pipe fell to the ground with a clang.

He stared at Dao Hai for a full half-cup of tea, his Adam's apple moving. "Twenty years ago...on a high tide night, a stranger knocked on my door."

He bent down to pick up his pipe, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper scraping against wood.

"He said he wanted to borrow my ancestral hall to hold a sacrifice and make amends to the Dragon King of the Sea."

"I asked what he was apologizing for, and he said he had killed his master, and his master's grudge had taken hold of him, and he had to use the kind spirits of the fishing village to calm it."

"Good soul?" Wu Hen narrowed his eyes.

"Aunt Wang and Aunt Zhang are kindhearted people?"

Uncle Wang nodded, his wrinkles filled with moisture. "He said he wanted to pick three families who had done good deeds throughout the year and use their energy to feed the sword."

“If I refused, he would…”

He lifted up his trouser leg. There was a dark red scar on his calf, like a centipede. "I cut it with this knife."

"Later I learned that the knife was called 'Feeding Resentment', and it specifically absorbs the kindness of living people as nourishment."

"When a sword is nurtured for twenty years, its resentment will become a spirit, which is what you call the Black King."

"What about the stranger?"

Lin Qiye stood behind the two of them at some point, his sword tassel swaying in the wind.

“Where is he now?”

Uncle Wang looked up at him, his eyes misty. "On the night of high tide, he jumped into the sea with a knife."

"I chased after him and saw a dark shadow in the waves, dragging him into the deep sea."

"The police later came to investigate and said he was a traitor who had escaped from the Demon Suppression Division..."

He suddenly started coughing violently, digging his knuckles into the dirt. "It's me who harmed the villagers."

“If I hadn’t reported it to the police…”

"Uncle, you didn't hurt anyone."

Shen Qingzhu came over with a bowl of fish soup, and the hot steam hit her face.

"You were only sixteen years old back then, and he held a knife to your neck. Anyone would have admitted it."

She stuffed the fish soup to Uncle Wang and glanced at the knife in Wu Hen's hand.

"We must take this sword skeleton back to the Demon Suppression Division and let the people in the Punishment Hall take a look to see if there are any more clues to the case of the traitor."

"Tail?"

Baili Pangpang took out a roasted sweet potato from somewhere and squatted at the foot of the wall, chewing it until his mouth was full of crumbs.

"I see, this tail is probably in the sea."

"The vortex just loosened up. Maybe the Black King still has a breath left, waiting for the next Blood Moon."

"Will you return to Blood Moon later?" Cao Yuan swung the chain, and blood splashed on the green rope.

"Then I'll use this chain to whip it back to life."

He winked at Shen Qingzhu and said, "Someone is watching me, so it's hard to go crazy."

Shen Qingzhu picked up a handkerchief and threw it at him: "Stop being so poor!

Aunt Wang's fish soup is getting cold. If you keep talking nonsense, drink the water used to wash the pot."

Wu Hen watched them making a fuss, then lowered his head and touched the snake pattern on the knife skeleton.

The morning light climbed up from the east, dyeing the wooden roofs of the fishing village golden red.

In Aunt Wang's stove, the embers suddenly burst into a ball of blue flame, which then went out in an instant.

He stared at the blue dot and whispered, "Qiye, when the rebel envoy jumped into the sea, was he also dragged under by a black shadow, just as Uncle Wang said?"

Lin Qiye looked at the sea, and saw the waves pushing the broken sail towards the shore.

The dark patterns on the sail had long been burned clean. "It's recorded in the files of the Demon Suppression Division. The resentment fostered by the Resentment-Feeding Knife will eventually turn against its owner."

He touched the hilt of his sword.

"The stranger wasn't dragged down by a dark shadow—he was dragged into the sea by his own ghost."

Aunt Wang called out from a distance, "Everyone come and have some fish soup! It's made with freshly dried shrimps, so it's not salty!"

Wu Hen put the knife skeleton into the cloth bag in his arms, and when he looked up, he saw Mrs. Zhang supporting Aunt Wang walking towards him.

Erzhuzi followed behind, holding half a basket of firewood he had just picked up in his arms.

In the morning light, everyone's shadow is warm, like a ball of fireworks that cannot be melted away.

"Let's go." He patted Lin Qiye's shoulder.

"Have a hot drink before returning to the Demon Suppression Division."

Lin Qiye responded and followed him into the main hall.

The scabbard hit his leg, making a slight sound, mixed with the aroma of fish soup and dissipated in the gradually brightening skylight.