Night of the Broken Gliph

The graveyard Hung Zhin referred to wasn’t an ordinary graveyard but something like a morgue, where late Northern cultivators were stored before dumped into the Red River to return them to their family waiting downstream. 

They did the same thing for Southern cultivators, but only after humiliating and beating up their corpses.  

This was home to countless crows and flies; the overpowering smell of decay was extremely disgusting, similar to the inhabitable end of the Red River but just a little better. 

Chor Huet Zhin and Hung Zhin dropped to the ground when they arrived, but instead of resting, Hung Zhin scanned the place anxiously in search of something. 

The wounded Chor Huet Zhin didn’t have time to watch as he extricated the gliph weapon from his stomach and took an elixir. He only turned to Hung Zhin after; what he saw stunned him. 

Hung Zhin’s right hand was drenched in blood as he held a ball-like thing. To Chor Huet Zhin’s horror, he realised  it was a heart!  

Pzz! Hung Zhin crushed the heart, splattering blood into  the black energy on his palm. Congealing moments later, it became a dark red liquid. He took a deep breath and tore his clothes off. 

There was a Deadly Palm gliph on his chest. The Deadly Palm gliph wriggled  and extended a black chain to his left arm. At the same time, the blood-red liquid flowed towards his left arm as if dragged by the chain. 

Chor Huet Zhin watched in disbelief. He didn’t know if he was imagining things or not, but the cries of dismay from the soul knowing it would be enslaved made him tremble in fear. After everything calmed down, Hung Zhin sat on the ground calmly and looked into his eyes.  

They were at a place with countless corpses, and the stench was strong enough to make anybody vomit, but neither cared. 

Hung Zhin stared at Chor Huet Zhin with hope, only to receive a cold stare.

Chor Huet Zhin was reminded of the legend of the cult that had been hidden for centuries, known as necrogliphism. “Why?” He spoke first.  

“Because I thought if it’s you, you’d understand,” Hung Zhin replied. “I know nobody in this world, even my clan members, wouldn’t. But you might!”  

“How am I different from you all? I’m just like anyone else, fighting to protect my country from the North and my loved ones! You yourself have witnessed how many lives I’ve saved and how many enemies I’ve killed!” Hung Zhin locked eyes with Chor Huet Zhin, who was still wearing a cold expression.  

“How many times have we saved each other? We are brothers, and I believe you’d understand.” Hung Zhin stared at Chor Huet Zhun with passion in his eyes. “Be it among the necrocultivators or my clan, I’ve always felt like nobody could understand me. But I believe you can!”  

After a long pause, Hung Zhin slowly lost hope and stared at Chor Huet Zhin bitterly. “Was I wrong?”  

“Can you hear them?” Chor Huet Zhin asked.  

“Hear what?”  

“The dismal cries of the souls. How can you go on after hearing them?” Chor Huet Zhin asked seriously. “Both Southerners and Northerners kill for the same reason, but once they die, such earthly matters are no longer of any importance. We respect the dead, unlike you lot. I’m human, and you’re… not. How would I be able to understand you?” 

“Am I not a human anymore?” Hung Zhin stared at him as his face turned ashen. Soon, he started laughing like a madman. “Hahaha, I Hung Zhin, have always taken pride in staying as a virtuous  human who practises necrogliphism! But in the end, I’m no longer human. Hahahahaha!” 

“Kill me. Or I’ll chase you to the ends of the world.” Chor Huet Zhin ignored Hung Zhin, who seemed to have gone mad. “I can’t forgive myself for saving a devil and putting humans at risk.” 

“A devil?” Hung Zhin laughed even louder. Fury was written all over his face. “You’re the one who made me a devil!”

Black energy sliced across the air, and when Chor Huet Zhin returned to his senses, Hung Zhin was already in front of him, grasping his neck. He would die if Hung Zhin chose to tighten his grip. 

Both parties stared into each other’s eyes. What pained Hung Zhin was how his former brother was now staring at him emotionlessly. 

“Hmph!” Hung Zhin released him. “I’ll repay the favour of saving my life. Attack me as you wish.”

Chor Huet Zhin stared at him. Inky black energy rose from his body instantly. It wasn’t death energy, but Ink’s Will. With that, he punched Hung Zhin. 

Siu Fu watched the replaying scene in a daze. The image disappeared and turned into a strand of black hair, which disappeared altogether. 

“Chor Huet Zhin was right,” the Great Elder’s voice echoed. “We aren’t considered humans anymore, but half-devils who exist between the boundaries of life and death. This is why we can store memories within our body parts.”

Siu Fu roughly guessed what was going on and stared at the Great Elder silently. Understanding Siu Fu, the black shadow covering the Great Elder’s face disappeared, revealing the old man’s true identity.

“Yes, I am Hung Zhin.”

Because the strand of black hair came from the Great Elder.  

“So you were after his gliphility?” Siu Fu spoke after a long silence.  

“Yes.” Hung Zhin nodded slowly and removed his robe with slight difficulty, revealing his left rib. There was a horrifying, bright red dent on it. What made it worse was that the dent was moving as if it was alive, keeping the Deadly Palm gliph at bay. 

“The Bloody War Strike was way more powerful than people think. By that I mean for us necrocultivators only. Chor Huet Zhin created it while we were discussing battle skills back then, and I told Chor Huet Zhin about my idea when I combined the Hung Clan’s strike and necrogliphism. As a genius, he came up with his own understanding with the knowledge he learned in the Chor Clan.”

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