Yanzi hesitated, saying, "No one can deceive the gods. We must first send Doctor Ciren over to see how things go. Incestuous blood—I’m afraid only animals engage in that. Ah... I’m quite confused myself."

Doctor Ciren lay sprawled on the ground, his entire body rigid. The slightest movement caused strips of his flesh to slough off. As we each gripped a hand and a foot and gently lifted, the skin and muscle at those points immediately detached cleanly, exposing the stark white bone beneath. Looking at him this way, the man resembled a corpse buried for many years, suddenly exposed to the light and ravaged by the elements. Fortunately, his bones were still quite solid and hadn't decayed; otherwise, moving him to Tang Minghao would have been impossible.

Thankfully, Old Li and I had witnessed things far more powerful and bizarre, allowing us to suppress any discomfort. Xu Zhiwu, however, turned deathly pale, and Yanzi repeatedly looked on the verge of vomiting.

Thus, we practically carried Doctor Ciren’s skeleton to Tang Minghao. Upon seeing Doctor Ciren in such a state—with flesh remaining only on his thighs and torso, the neck shredded and broken from abrasion, exposing bone, and the deeply furrowed facial skin hanging loose, ready to fall off at any moment—Tang Minghao was clearly startled. He exclaimed to us, "Why bring such a thing here? Why not let him rest in peace?" He completely forgot to question why we hadn't retrieved the red spring water.

Since he didn't mention it, we certainly weren't foolish enough to remind him. I quickly replied, "Didn't you just command us to bring him?" The look of violent rage vanished from Tang Minghao’s face, replaced by thoughtful contemplation. "Oh... oh..." Then he asked us again, "What else did I ask you to do just now?"

Almost simultaneously, the four of us shook our heads in denial: "Nothing..." "No, nothing at all." "Nothing."

Tang Minghao offered an exceedingly gentle smile. "It’s good that there was nothing. Let's go. I'll take you somewhere. Perhaps there you will find what you seek... or the answer."

The swiftness of his transition left us completely unprepared; we had no idea what he was plotting. "This... this..." I pointed at Doctor Ciren’s remains and asked him, "What about him?"

Tang Minghao looked back at me, genuinely perplexed, "What do you intend to do with this person?"

I was momentarily speechless, unsure how to admit that he was the one who ordered us to retrieve the body, especially since he was being so unusually temperate now, and bringing up unpleasant matters seemed unwise.

"N-no... not much," I stammered. "Then we..." My eyes flickered toward Yanzi, Old Li, and Xu Zhiwu, asking what they planned.

"Actually, you could find something to carry Doctor Ciren away," Tang Minghao suggested with unusual earnestness. "As for Shepherd Ciren, I knew this poor man in the past. He died of illness and should have been buried in the river, but alas, there is no water here. Never mind. I will perform rites for him." With that, he genuinely sat down in meditation and began chanting sutras, all in Tibetan, spoken quite haltingly.

A little over ten minutes later, Tang Minghao stood up, and large drops of sweat began to bead and run down his face again, looking quite terrifying. "Are you alright, Brother Hao?" I asked. Tang Minghao shook his head, his expression becoming distant. Old Li went up to feel his forehead and declared it wasn't a fever. Suddenly, as if remembering something, Tang Minghao roared, "Where is the red water I told you to find! Why haven't you brought it yet! And why have you brought Shepherd Ciren’s body to this state? How is Doctor Ciren supposed to live?!"

His mood shifted so rapidly that all of us were utterly frustrated. What did this mean? Fine one moment, enraged the next. Did he truly have two different "spirits" inhabiting him? "Old Li, there’s no choice now. It's up to you; see if you can find a way." I meant for him to use some Daoist magic or techniques. Xu Zhiwu understood immediately and quickly agreed it was worth a try.

"It's useless," Yanzi murmured quietly. "The magic of the gods is boundless. If we fail to do what he commands, everyone will surely be punished. This person... I fear... I fear..." She repeated the word "I fear" several times, helplessness and dread clouding her face.

Old Li stated firmly, "Minghao is my brother. As long as I, Li Zeng, am here, I will ensure he keeps his life and we bring him back." Hearing this, Yanzi looked at Old Li with a strange glimmer in her eyes. After watching him for a moment, she silently turned her head away and began reciting Tibetan to Tang Minghao—judging by the tone, likely scripture.

"What is she saying?" I whispered to Xu Zhiwu. He concentrated for a moment and replied, "It’s all pleas for the gods' forgiveness."

But Yanzi's words had no effect. The "spirit" possessing Tang Minghao grew increasingly volatile. He nearly kicked Yanzi, but Old Li yanked her away with quick reflexes. "Go find the red water for me!" he snarled through clenched teeth, while simultaneously squatting down to rummage through Doctor Ciren’s head. The flesh on his body was already rotten beyond recognition, but when the head was touched lightly, the entire facial skin peeled away, revealing a bare skull. However, the scalp hadn't detached; the remaining hair, now dark gray, was matted into clumps, appearing remarkably intact.

"Haha." He suddenly burst out laughing. "Indeed, Doctor Ciren is not dead." His expression immediately changed, and he glared furiously, "You slaves, are you just standing here waiting to die?"

We exchanged bewildered glances, unsure how to move, when Tang Minghao suddenly let out a strange laugh. "Perfect, perfect. It’s good that you die. Doctor Ciren will surely be delighted to have so many new skins to use."

My scalp tingled. Was he planning to transfer Doctor Ciren’s "ghost" onto us in the same manner? Yanzi’s face turned ashen white, and she fell to her knees, repeatedly bowing and begging the gods for forgiveness. Tang Minghao touched the scalp of Doctor Ciren’s head, and his expression shifted again to something unreadable—perhaps regret, perhaps something else entirely.

"I know," Tang Minghao stated calmly. "As long as the contents of Shepherd Ciren's head are transferred into your heads, then he will be resurrected. Only Shepherd Ciren’s outer shell is dead now. The real Doctor Ciren, as long as he has a host, will live forever."

I suspected I was growing accustomed to Tang Minghao’s mood swings, which were faster than turning pages, and I began to discern a pattern. I quickly asked him, "Then... which deity are you?" I had intended to ask what ghost it was, but seeing Yanzi bowing in sincere, solemn supplication, I dared not speak carelessly.

"Me?" Tang Minghao hesitated, seemingly doubting that I was asking him. After a moment, he replied, "I... I don't know who I am either... The King had people bring me here back then. But... I... I don't remember." As he spoke, he gripped his short hair with his hand, appearing somewhat pained. Beneath the strands he pushed aside on the side of his head, there was a small, pinky-sized speck of dried blood, and looking slightly down, an even larger spot of blood on the top of his skull.

It must have been bumped somewhere. I myself had a wound that large; it probably wasn't strange.

"Let's go... If you are interested in going somewhere, follow me," Tang Minghao invited.

"Then... what about this person?" I pointed at the corpse on the ground.

Tang Minghao glanced over, sighed, and said, "Then take Doctor Ciren away." He sounded quite regretful. "It’s a pity he sought immortality and ended up like this. What a shame, what a shame." As he spoke, he squatted down and began tearing at Doctor Ciren’s scalp from the forehead. While the rest of the body had decayed terribly, the scalp remained exceptionally tough and resilient. He tugged several times without success, so he turned to Yanzi, asking, "Why didn't you bring your Tibetan knife? I can’t peel this skin off."

Yanzi flinched violently, thinking the deity was displeased, and her face drained of color. "I... I..." she stammered, unable to speak. Seeing this, Old Li quickly drew his military dagger and handed it over. He then subtly kept his own hand near it. I also quietly took out my gun, as Tang Minghao’s unpredictable nature made me unsure if he would use the dagger to commit murder.

Taking Old Li’s dagger, Tang Minghao paused, looked it over carefully, then looked up at Old Li blankly. After staring for a long time, he suddenly exclaimed, "Old Li?"

He actually recognized Old Li! He could recognize people! I was almost too excited to stand still; he was well! Tang Minghao was well! We wouldn't have to walk on eggshells anymore! "Brother Hao, Brother Hao, yes, yes, it’s Old Li, Li Zeng," I rushed to confirm.

Old Li was equally emotional. "Minghao, it's me. You're finally better."

Tang Minghao looked at us blankly for a few moments, his mind seemingly scrambling to retrieve something. After a long pause, his eyes suddenly dimmed again. He stopped trying to speak and took the dagger, carefully drawing the blade along the forehead of Doctor Ciren's corpse. Then, he gently lifted the section of scalp still covered in hair, and with the tip of the dagger, delicately pried open a section of bone at the crown of the skull. This piece of bone acted like a hinge; once lifted, it flopped backward onto the peeled-back scalp.

Beneath the opened skull was a piece of dark, oily substance. Tang Minghao cautiously prodded it with the dagger tip. The black, oily material didn't move. It was impossible to tell what it was.

Seeing Tang Minghao’s actions, I felt my own scalp turn cold, as if my own skull was being opened. "Hao..." I started to ask what it was, but Old Li caught my eye and quickly signaled for silence, urging me to just watch. Yanzi, who had been kneeling, forgot about confessing sins and chanting when she saw Tang Minghao’s movements. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide, every trace of color gone from her face as she watched him, trembling uncontrollably.

But Tang Minghao didn't move further. He held the dagger, staring blankly at the contents of Doctor Ciren’s head, motionless for a long time. Then, after a significant while, his face began to flush deep red, like someone consumed by explosive anger but finding no outlet for it.

"..." He held it in for a long moment, then a rapid stream of words erupted from his mouth. It was so fast that we couldn't distinguish a single phrase! As soon as he stopped speaking, Yanzi collapsed to the ground without another word.