Uwe took a step closer to Stella. The kid was smiling wryly while beads of sweat kept oozing from Stella's forehead, her expression growing increasingly tense.
"What, you don't want him to save you?" Uwe had reached Stella and looked down at her.
"There's no need for him to save you. Get lost! You're no match for her—go get help!" Stella suddenly shouted.
"Is he your boyfriend? You're still worried about him at a time like this? Even if he escapes, you'll be nothing but bones by the time he returns." As Uwe spoke, she reached for the copper coin on the kid's head, while Stella, immobilized by the talisman's effect, couldn't move a muscle.
"Fucking boyfriend? He—"
Suddenly, Uwe froze, her hand hovering over the kid's head, unable to move further.
When Stella finally saw the situation clearly, her entire body stiffened—a silver-white needle was lodged perfectly in the center of Uwe's brow.
A few seconds later, a thin trickle of blood seeped from the needle's entry point, mingling with the cold sweat on her forehead before dripping down to the tip of Uwe's nose.
"I don't want to kill anyone. Don't force me. Next time, one centimeter deeper, and you're dead," I said.
"You were playing dumb?" Uwe gulped, her face suddenly contorted with fear—she had just brushed shoulders with death. A fraction more force, and she would have died on the spot from this tattoo needle.
"I don't know how to kill ghosts, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to kill people. And this tattoo needle in my hand is no less deadly than a gun," I said.
Uwe didn't dare doubt my words. The needle had pierced precisely between her brows—one centimeter deeper would have killed her, one centimeter shallower would have lacked impact. My strike was calculated perfectly: not too deep, not too shallow, not the slightest deviation.
The skill behind this spoke for itself.
Since learning the Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts, Grandpa had trained me relentlessly—carving flowers on tofu, tracing characters on stone, and countless other drills. For a tattoo artist, the needle is both a tool of the trade and a weapon—capable of inking life onto skin or snuffing it out entirely.
But Grandpa forbade me from revealing this skill casually, let alone using it without cause. Killing is frighteningly easy. Without strict rules, he feared I might cause irreversible harm—what if I killed someone in a petty argument?
When I first arrived in Vervecity, I couldn't use this skill either—unless absolutely necessary. This city is shrouded in unspeakable darkness and danger, so from day one, I've done everything to conceal my abilities. Of course, this isn't my only secret.
"Get lost! Or I won't hold back next time," I warned Uwe. If I struck again, it wouldn't be as simple as targeting her brow—I'd aim straight for her heart and drop her where she stood.
I targeted her brow for two reasons: first, to intimidate her, and second, to disrupt her blood flow. The strike would temporarily induce dizziness, leaving her unable to fight back for a short period.
Even if she managed to save the kid, killing her would still be effortless for me. If not for the constraints of the law, I'd have slaughtered her long ago. Technically, killing her might count as self-defense, but the legal hassle would be unbearable—I can't afford to get locked up. Who'd save Grandpa then?
Uwe didn't dare argue. She gulped, then reached to pull the tattoo needle from her brow—but at that moment, a ting sounded as the needle dropped to the floor on its own, landing with a faint, crisp clink.
Uwe staggered backward but didn't collapse. Her body swayed drunkenly, her legs unsteady. The dizziness overwhelmed her—the needle had temporarily sealed the acupoint on her brow, blocking her blood circulation.
"Thank you… for sparing me," Uwe suddenly said, her tone subdued. It seemed she'd finally grasped that seeking revenge against me was a losing game.
She yanked the copper coin from the kid's head, hoisted him over her shoulder, and stumbled out of the tattoo parlor.
The moment Uwe left, Stella's body went slack. She plummeted to the ground, her limbs finally free to move again.
"Damn it, Ror—was my survival cramping your style? You waited until I was half-dead before acting?" Stella cursed.
I retorted that the opportunity hadn't presented itself earlier. If not for Stella restraining the kid, intimidating Uwe with the silver needle wouldn't have been so effortless.
This Kuman Thong woman was no amateur. She wielded every variant of the cursed dolls flawlessly, her methods venomous. If Hames survived his return to their homeland, it spoke volumes about his own skill.
Stella didn't go home that night. After I treated her wounds, she crashed in my room while I took the sofa. Antonio and Stein weren't badly hurt—a quick patch-up was enough before dragging them back to their respective rooms.
By morning, everyone had recovered. Stella headed back to school, and I slipped her an extra $500 red envelope as a "bonus."
She rolled her eyes and called me a cheapskate. "I risked my life, and you throw in a lousy five hundred? Are you even human?"
I shrugged. "If you're not satisfied, don't gamble with your life next time. Besides, I was the one who wrapped things up. You're still just an employee—be grateful for the extra 500. Train harder, and maybe the boss will give you a raise."
"Never taking another job from you again, you stingy bastard. Goodbye—hope I never see your face again!" Stella huffed, storming off without a backward glance.
The moment she left, Stein and Antonio stirred awake. Stein was clueless, bombarding me with questions about what happened. Antonio's face was puffy and blistered, painful to the touch. A few compresses of snake blood later, the swelling had already subsided significantly.
Snake blood is cool and removes toxins, making it perfect for treating Antonio's face.
I thought the matter was over, but a day later, I saw Uwe's body on the news - fished out of the river. She was dead!
Many people later discovered Uwe's identity, commenting that she was a Kuman Thong master who raised child spirits and was killed by their backlash.
Antonio said, "This woman was so powerful. How could she be killed by spirit backlash? Who actually killed her?"
I smiled without answering, but I knew who killed her.
Who else could it be but Hames? It was so quick and ruthless!
Money makes the world go round. As skilled as Uwe was, there were underworld profiteers more powerful than her. It would have been effortless for Hames to pay a master to kill her.
Hames has a wife. He feared Uwe would cause trouble, and as a Kuman Thong master who had already cursed him once, his life was in danger. Someone like Hames would definitely eliminate Uwe - it's obvious when you think about it.
I don't know whether to sympathize with Uwe or not. This woman seemed mentally unstable to begin with. While being deceived by Hames was predictable, it's still unfortunate she fell for such scum.
Perhaps she came here without planning to return. I just hope in her next life, she won't meet another terrible man.
As for how Hames knew Uwe's whereabouts? Whatever Christoph knows, he knows too. After I helped break the Kuman Thong curse, he must have guessed Uwe would come to me.
I suspect Uwe was killed immediately after leaving the tattoo parlor. Hames likely hired an underworld profiteer to ambush her.
The Kuman Thong matter has finally closed, leaving me with some reflections. Society is brutally realistic - good people don't necessarily get happy endings, and bad people aren't always punished.
This is real society. This is reality. This is human nature!
After the Kuman Thong incident, Stella stopped paying much attention to me. She even gave me a nickname - "Iron Ror!"
Combining "Iron Rooster" with "Ror," she's calling me stingy. I ignore her - this is all my hard-earned money. Do you even understand what earning money through hardship means, you college girl?
I don't know if Stella's cursing brought bad luck, but business was dead that day. Chloe was supposed to deliver food but never came, forcing us to eat takeout again.
In the evening, Chloe texted me on WeChat saying her computer broke down and asked me to fix it. She couldn't work and was getting anxious.
So that's why she didn't come - computer problems. I told her to wait, I'd be right over.
At this moment, Stein suddenly stuffed something into my pocket. I took it out and found it was a condom. I asked him what he was doing.
Stein said he wasn't doing anything special, just reminding me to be safe. "Better to wear it," he said. "A man should be responsible for his woman and himself."
I told him he was crazy. "I'm just going to fix a computer. What would I need this for? What are you thinking about all day, Stein?"
Stein gave me a look that said either I was clueless or pretending to be. "It's midnight, she lives alone, and she wants you to 'fix her computer'? Isn't it obvious what she really wants? Chloe's always making eyes at you. Even a blind man could see she's interested, especially after the Corpse-Fetus incident."
I said Stein had a dirty mind. What if she really just needed computer help? Not bothering to argue further, I headed straight to Chloe's place.
Chloe's apartment wasn't far - about seven hundred meters away in a residential building. She lived on the fifth floor. When I arrived, I knocked directly on her door.
Chloe answered wearing sexy pajamas, her body fragrant with perfume. She smiled as she opened the door and invited me inside.
My heart started pounding. Could Stein actually be right? If she really came onto me later, should I go along with it or not? Thinking this, I unconsciously touched the condom Stein had given me.
I'd been single for twenty years. Do you have any idea how I've survived these two decades? I still hadn't experienced a woman.
Though Chloe had worked in that profession before, I didn't hold it against her. She was beautiful and sexy.
After pouring me a glass of water, Chloe started explaining her computer issues. But her pajamas were so thin, and the way she kept moving around in front of me - how was I supposed to focus on the computer? By the time she finished talking, I hadn't processed a word she'd said. Eventually, I had to examine the computer myself and diagnosed the problem: a burnt-out motherboard that needed replacement.
I went to the computer market downstairs to buy a new motherboard, installed it for her, and the computer booted up perfectly.
When I tried to leave, Chloe stopped me. "It's too late now," she said. "The streets aren't safe at night. Why don't you just stay here?"
Not safe? Her place was only ten minutes from mine. What danger could there be? Besides, I'm a grown man - even a block of wood would understand what Chloe really meant.