https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-2-A-Pound-and-Seven-Candareens-of-Merit-/12984452/
Chapter 1: Ghost Head Blade Technique! (Seeking Collection)
Chapter 1: Ghost Head Blade Technique! (Seeking Collection)
Pain!
A searing pain, like a thousand needles piercing his heart!
As Qin Zheng regained consciousness, the intense pain from his chest nearly caused him to faint again.
Cold sweat beaded on his pale face.
After a moment, the pain gradually subsided.
Qin Zheng caught his breath and regained his senses.
He lifted his head and looked around.
It was a simple earthen hut, sparsely furnished with only a stove, a water jar, a wooden bed, and a cabinet.
And there, on the cabinet, was a Ghost Head Blade, a chilling sight at about five feet long, emitting a frigid aura.
"I've transmigrated."
Fragments of scattered memories flashed through his mind.
Qin Zheng muttered to himself, somewhat incredulous.
But before he could think further, pain returned to his chest.
Fortunately, it wasn't as intense as before.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Qin Zheng opened his inner robe to examine his chest.
There, on his wheat-colored skin, was an incredibly clear black palm print.
The searing pain he felt was all due to this palm print.
And it was because of this very mark that his predecessor had not survived, allowing Qin Zheng to take over this body after transmigrating.
"What kind of enemy did my predecessor offend to incur such hatred?!"
Qin Zheng's face twisted in dismay.
From the scattered memories in his mind, he gathered that he was currently in a dynasty called Great Jin.
It was similar to ancient times in his previous life, yet also distinct.
In this dynasty, there were warriors capable of running on rooftops and splitting mountains with their bare hands, as well as demons that could take human form and devour people, bones and all.
In such a world, only those who cultivated martial arts and possessed martial prowess could live with some peace of mind.
Ordinary people were like fish on a chopping board, vulnerable to anyone's abuse.
Qin Zheng's predecessor was an executioner in Black Goose City, Qingzhou, under the rule of the Great Jin Dynasty.
He had no martial arts skills, only brute strength and a ghost head blade passed down from his ancestors, which was still quite sharp.
It was thanks to his ancestors' legacy that his predecessor had managed to secure this relatively stable job.
After the pain subsided, Qin Zheng stood up and slowly walked over to the water jar.
He picked up the ladle and drank several gulps of water to quench his thirst, then lowered his head to look at his reflection in the water.
There, in the reflection, was a youth of about seventeen or eighteen years old, with a handsome face and a star-like brow.
However, his brows were tightly furrowed, his face pale, and he looked weak.
After examining his new body's appearance, Qin Zheng raised his head and looked at the medicine pot on the stove.
A faint smell of scorched porridge wafted from the pot.
It seemed that his predecessor had been trying to heal the wound on his chest by brewing medicine.
But he hadn't survived, allowing Qin Zheng to transmigrate into this body.
As Qin Zheng examined the room, he also sorted through the fragmented memories in his mind.
In his predecessor's memories, he couldn't find how he had been injured.
He only knew that one day, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his heart, and from then on, the pain would flare up every morning.
And initially, there was no black palm print on his chest.
But as time passed, the pain intensified each day, and the black palm print becoming clearer and clearer.
His predecessor hadn't suspected that a martial artist from the Jianghu had done this.
He had only thought that as an executioner, he had beheaded too many people, depleting his merit, and thus, ghosts had come to take their revenge.
After all, his ancestors had all been executioners and had died young, none of them living past thirty.
This had led his predecessor to believe the same.
And the liquid in the medicine pot wasn't a herbal soup.
It was talisman paper from the Green Sheep Taoist Temple in Black Goose City, which his predecessor had bought with a hefty sum.
"No wonder I didn't smell any medicinal scent."
Qin Zheng shook his head, speechless.
In the fragments of his memories, Qin Zheng discovered that his ancestors had all died at the hands of martial artists from the jianghu. Not a single one had passed away from natural causes or supernatural incidents.
After all, executioners, standing in the execution ground, with a single swing of their blade, would send heads rolling.
The relatives and associates of the criminals couldn't seek revenge against the Imperial Court on their behalf, let alone kill a mere executioner.
Executioners were just ordinary people recruited by the court, like a patch of garlic sprouts, cut one down, and another would grow. The court didn't hesitate to execute, and those who carried out the sentences felt no burden.
So, it was certain that his predecessor had beheaded a criminal, and now a close relative of that person had come to seek revenge.
It wasn't a ghostly encounter, as he had initially thought.
Qin Zheng came to this conclusion, which was merely a guess, but it seemed reasonable.
What he needed to do now was to eliminate the palm strike he had received on his chest.
If he couldn't endure it this time, the next might be his last.
But he had no idea who had struck him on the chest, nor how to remove the palm force.
He could only wait until it was brighter, finish the day's task, and then visit the medical hall to seek a doctor's opinion.
From his memories, he learned that he had to go to the execution ground to behead criminals early this morning, and fortunately, there wouldn't be much delay.
But he wasn't his predecessor; he wasn't sure if he could adapt to such a scene.
He just hoped that nothing would go wrong.
Qin Zheng rubbed his forehead, feeling a slight headache.
The palm mark on his chest had turned as dark as ink, and if it were a disease, it would be incurable, beyond the help of medicine.
Could this palm force still be dispelled?
If it couldn't be removed, what should he do?
Just as he was thinking about this...
Bang, Bang, Bang!
Knocks sounded from outside the door.
"Qin Zheng, it's almost time. Get ready to go to the execution ground," a voice called out.
Qin Zheng quickly put on his clothes and opened the door.
Outside stood a middle-aged capturer dressed in a black robe with a long saber hanging from his waist.
His surname was Wang, and Qin Zheng had some vague memories of him from his predecessor's life, but not much.
"Alright, Capturer Wang, I'll tidy up and be right there," Qin Zheng replied weakly.
The capturer maintained his knocking posture, staring at Qin Zheng in a daze.
After a few moments, he finally reacted and said, "Okay, I'll head there first. Hurry and join me soon."
Without waiting for Qin Zheng's response, he took a step forward and left.
After seeing Capturer Wang off, Qin Zheng closed the door, and his expression turned gloomy.
The capturer's reaction was clearly one of surprise that Qin Zheng could still open the door.
So, he must have known that Qin Zheng had received a fatal palm strike!
Qin Zheng took two steps forward, reaching for the Ghost Head Blade that was leaning against the wall.
Buzz!
Suddenly, the Ghost Head Blade trembled slightly.
Qin Zheng felt his Heart Sea explode, and his mind and consciousness sank into darkness.
When he regained his senses, he found himself surrounded by pitch-blackness, like a starry sky.
In front of him, a scroll exuding an ancient aura slowly unfurled.
[Qin Zheng]
[Lifespan: 70 (17)]
[Merit: Three Qian]
[Discovered Item: Ghost Head Blade, can be refined, requiring one Qian of merit. Do you want to refine it?]
[Note: Refining will bestow the Ghost Head Blade Technique]
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
