Chapter 11 Blood Curse

Er Zhuzi cried, terrified by the man surnamed Chen, but I coldly looked at the old woman on the ground.

The old woman glared at me viciously and said, "I don't believe you dare to kill anyone. If anything happens to Er Zhuzi, you can forget about finding the Dragon Fish forever."

My gaze narrowed slightly. "Don't worry, I won't kill anyone. Don't you want the Wang family's incense? Zhao Zhuang, cut off their line of descendants first."

Zhao Zhuang drew his knife and stabbed it fiercely towards Er Zhuzi's crotch.

Zhao Zhuang's stab looked fierce, but it didn't touch Er Zhuzi's skin; it only cut open his pants. However, Er Zhuzi was so frightened that he fainted.

The old woman shouted hoarsely, "Zhao Zhuang, you surnamed Li, I won't spare you! Just wait to die! Even if I'm reduced to ashes, I won't let you have an easy time."

I said coldly, "Take a few people and dig up Er Zhuzi's brother's grave and see if there's a body inside."

Several warlocks quickly ran into the mountain, while I squatted in front of the old woman. "You acted well, but your eyes don't lie. When Zhao Zhuang stabbed just now, your eyes were telling me that you weren't just unafraid of Er Zhuzi being killed, but also somewhat gleeful."

"I guess one of the two idiots born back then didn't die, right?"

The old woman sneered, closed her eyes, and ignored me. After a while, the warlock who went to dig up the grave ran back. "Mr. Li, there's a body in the grave. Judging by the clothes, it should be the eldest grandson of the old Wang family."

When I looked at the old woman again, she sneered, "You people believe anything! You dare to listen to someone who just thinks whatever he wants? Just wait to die!"

My voice was gloomy. "Old woman, you think you can fool me like this? You're wrong. If I don't make you cry within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, I'll take your surname!"

The old woman laughed. "Alright! This old woman will finally see her great-grandson!"

I took out a stitched cloth doll from my backpack, reached out and pulled off three strands of Er Zhuzi's hair, and patted them on the doll's head.

The three hairs immediately stood upright on the puppet's head, and the puppet made of white cloth opened its eyes. A gleam of light flashed in those two plastic eyes.

However, the puppet's gaze was unusually dim, making it look somewhat dull.

"Er Zhuzi!" Old Liu first glanced at my hand, then turned to look at Er Zhuzi, who had his eyes closed. "You've trapped Er Zhuzi's soul in the puppet?"

"More than that!" I sneered and pulled out a steel needle half a foot long from my bag, using the tip of the needle to hold the doll's shoulder. "Old woman, watch carefully and don't blink."

The old woman just sneered with her eyes sideways, but as she laughed, I plunged the steel needle into the cloth doll's shoulder. The moment the bright needle pierced into the puppet's body, the doll let out a miserable cry, and that voice was Er Zhuzi's: "Grandma, it hurts, it hurts..."

The old woman scolded sharply, "Don't shout, shut your mouth. What's this little bit of pain?"

The warlock standing next to him shouted, "Look at Er Zhuzi, his shoulder is bleeding!"

As I inserted the needle into the puppet, a burst of blood did indeed erupt from Er Zhuzi's body. As my steel needle pushed forward, more and more blood flowed from Er Zhuzi's body.

After I pushed the steel needle in an inch, Er Zhuzi's body seemed to have been pierced through by the needle, and blood kept flowing out of his back, quickly staining the ground red.

Er Zhuzi's soul was screaming, his voice distorted, but the old woman didn't even look at him. Finally, annoyed by his shouting, she scolded, "Shut your mouth, it won't hurt in a while."

She didn't expect that Er Zhuzi would actually laugh foolishly. "It really doesn't hurt anymore, it really doesn't hurt anymore. Grandma didn't lie to me, it really doesn't hurt anymore."

The old woman was stunned, and I pressed down on the steel needle. "He doesn't hurt anymore; it's my turn to hurt!"

As I pinched the steel needle and pushed it into the puppet's body little by little, bloodstains appeared on my arm, and the crimson blood soaked my shoulder in just a few seconds.

Before long, round blood droplets dripped onto the ground along my sleeve, and beads of sweat flowed from my head.

The old woman's voice changed in fright. "You... what are you doing?"

I didn't even look at my shoulder, my face covered in cold sweat, and said calmly, "I'm casting a curse. Can't you tell?"

"Your old man was a warlock; he should know how to guard against curses. He should have also told you that some curses can't be defended against! Like a blood curse!"

Curses originated from the Witch Clan, and could be righteous or evil.

Anyone who uses evil spells must pay a certain price. The greater the price paid by the caster, the stronger the effect of the curse.

Warlocks know the power of curses and will try to prevent others from casting them. However, there are some curses that cannot be defended against. A blood curse is one of them. As long as the caster is ruthless enough to curse themselves along with the target, no protective talisman can completely block the blood curse.

At least 30% of the blood curse will descend upon the target.

What I used was precisely a blood curse.