I didn’t know where to find Hong Wu, since my grandfather never gave me his address. Being new in town, I had no choice but to ask Xu Meng, who had lived in Zhonghai City for several years and would likely know her way around.

Xu Meng was a bit confused. "What do you need a crematorium for? Aren’t you supposed to be tattooing me?"

I couldn’t tell her the real reason—after all, the ingredients for ghost tattoos could scare an average person out of their wits. So, I lied, saying I needed to find a man named Hong Wu who ran a crematorium. I told her it was urgent, and that I could only do her tattoo at noon.

She didn’t push me further and instead gave me directions, saying that there was a crematorium about ten kilometers west. As for whether the owner’s name was Hong Wu, she didn’t know.

The directions were odd—who builds a crematorium so far out in the wilderness? But then again, it made sense. Places like this are best kept isolated.

After thanking Xu Meng, I quickly got into a taxi. Sure enough, after about ten kilometers, I found myself in front of a large crematorium. It was situated in a desolate area—worse than a suburban backwater, but it was typical for a place like this.

I got out of the car, and the driver sped off much faster than when he had picked me up. After entering the crematorium, I saw three mute men moving corpses. I asked them who Hong Wu was, and they pointed me toward a room inside the crematorium.

Knocking on the door, I asked if Hong Wu was available. A wheezing voice from inside answered, telling me to wait outside for a moment.

From the sounds I heard, it was clear that Hong Wu was busy with something other than work. What a bizarre situation—doing that kind of thing in a crematorium. If you wanted privacy, you could just go rent a hotel room!

Around eight minutes later, a short old man came out. He was sweating profusely and had a sinister air about him. His face was scarred with two deep cuts on his forehead, and he looked to be about ten years younger than my grandfather, though not by much.

He was puffing away on a cigarette, and when he saw me, he sneered, asking what I was there for.

I got straight to the point, telling him I was looking to buy some dead man’s blood, ashes, and corpse oil.

Hong Wu grinned, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. “Ghost tattoos, huh? You must be Tang Yun’s grandson.”

I nodded. It seemed like this old man knew my grandfather and was familiar with the ghost tattoo business. He owned the crematorium, so it made sense he could easily get these kinds of materials. He probably had a long history of working with my grandfather.

Hong Wu didn’t waste time. A few minutes later, he handed me three bamboo tubes—exactly the same kind my grandfather had used to send me.

“Dead man’s blood: four thousand. The other two are three thousand each. Total: ten thousand,” Hong Wu said nonchalantly.

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I nearly choked on my spit. Ten thousand for this stuff? And why was dead man’s blood so much more expensive than the others?

Hong Wu chuckled. “What do you think? These three tubes will easily cover five tattoos. If you use them sparingly, you could get up to seven tattoos. Even if you charge one million per tattoo, that’s seven million in return after covering the costs. As for the blood, it’s more expensive because the blood coagulates after death, making it harder to collect.”

It was clear that Hong Wu was an expert in these kinds of things, and it didn’t look like I had any room to haggle. I handed over the ten thousand and left with the ingredients. Yesterday I earned three thousand, but today, a whole ten thousand was gone.

As I was about to leave, Hong Wu suddenly called me back. He smiled slyly and asked, “Kid, you want to make big money?”

I nodded vigorously, saying that of course, I did. My dream was to make a billion to save my grandfather.

“Then you should consider doing yin tattoos, not just yang tattoos,” Hong Wu said, puffing on his cigarette.

“Yin tattoos?” I asked, confused.

Hong Wu laughed. “Yin tattoos are way more profitable than yang tattoos. Yang tattoos are for stability, you make a few bucks, but if you want real cash, you need to do yin tattoos. They’re powerful and can fetch a much higher price, but they’re... dangerous.”

I shook my head. “No way. Yin tattoos are a taboo. My grandfather warned me never to do them.”

Hong Wu scoffed. “Taboo? That’s just nonsense. Your grandfather knew that there were certain rules, but it’s not like he didn’t do them himself. People these days are so cautious. The real money in this business is in yin tattoos. There’s no harm as long as you’re not doing tattoos for ghosts. Besides, as long as it’s legal, why care? The price for yin tattoos is way higher—ten thousand to a million, depending on the effect. It’s not something yang tattoos can compare to.”

I was shaken. My grandfather had always warned me about yin tattoos, and here Hong Wu was, encouraging me to break the taboo. I didn’t know if what he was saying was true, but it sure sounded convincing.

Before I left, Hong Wu insisted that I come back if I decided to give yin tattoos a try. He handed me a phone number, saying he’d deliver the ingredients directly to my door.

As I left the crematorium, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. The place felt cursed, and Hong Wu himself was a figure I couldn’t quite trust. The thought of him selling ghosts made my skin crawl.

On the way back, my mind began to race. What Hong Wu said about yin tattoos made sense. If I only stuck to yang tattoos, it would take years to make the money I needed. But if I started doing yin tattoos, the profits would come in much faster.

I didn’t know what to think. The temptation to make quick money was strong, but at what cost?

When I returned home, Xu Meng still hadn’t arrived, but Wang Xin was already at the door.

She seemed to be insatiable. She said that the ghost tattoo had worked so well, one wasn’t enough—she needed more. I couldn’t help but laugh at her greed.

Wang Xin wanted to be the center of attention—she wanted all the rich and powerful men to fall at her feet. She wanted to conquer every man, and have them listen to her like loyal dogs.

Her ambitions were clear: she wanted money, power, and to keep living the high life. She didn’t care how she got it, as long as she could continue enjoying the luxuries her lifestyle brought.

I didn’t have the heart to say it out loud, but I found her motivations both desperate and pathetic. She wasn’t even looking for love—just a ticket to endless wealth.

Wang Xin offered to pay any price. “Money’s not an issue. I’ll pay you whatever it takes. And if you do this for me, tonight... I’ll be yours.”

I was taken aback. I had never expected her to make such a proposition.

Did I really want to get involved with someone like her? If I agreed to her offer, it would certainly mean money and physical pleasure. But if I refused, I’d still be able to make a lot of money, just more slowly.

The dilemma gnawed at me. Could I afford to turn down an opportunity like this? Could I risk walking away from a fortune?

I hesitated. This wasn’t just about the tattoo anymore—it was about what kind of person I wanted to be.