The strangest thing was that despite the fact that a man was hanging off Wu Ming’s leg like a limp ragdoll, he didn’t seem to notice. He walked around like everything was normal, not even the slightest sign that something was off.

What’s even more bizarre was that when I blinked, the man vanished, and so did Wu Ming. It was as though they had never been there at all.

I turned to Xiao Zi Xing and asked, “Did you see a man hanging from Wu Ming’s leg just now?”

Xiao Zi Xing looked at me like I was crazy. “Are you seeing things from all those tattoos? It’s just the three of us here—no one was hanging off Wu Ming’s leg. You’ve got to stop making up stories.”

What the hell? Could it be that I had imagined it? No, I didn’t think so. It had to be the curse of the yin tattoo.

I shrugged it off. In the end, the tattoo had worked, and I made money. That was a win, wasn’t it? Who cares about what happened to Wu Ming after that?

That day alone, I’d made 100,000, and I felt like I was one step closer to saving my grandfather.

With the combined amounts from Xu Meng (20,000), Su Qing (10,000), Su Yu (10,000), Wang Xin (120,000), and Wu Ming (100,000), plus 30,000 spent on the ghost ink, I’d managed to earn 230,000 over the past week.

To be honest, I was beginning to realize that yin tattoos were far more profitable than the regular ones. If I stuck to just doing yang tattoos, it would take forever to reach 100 million. But with yin tattoos, one order could be worth ten regular ones. Looks like I’d be sticking with them for a while.

Then, the next day, around noon, Wu Ming gave Xiao Zi Xing some good news. He didn’t go into detail but asked, “Have you heard of the legendary reputation of the Thirteenth Master?” His wife, Jing Jing, had been calling out in pleasure all night—it was something he had never experienced before.

I warned him not to get too cocky. Sure, the yin tattoo had worked wonders, but he needed to keep things in moderation. The tattoo wasn’t a magical fix for everything.

Xiao Zi Xing suddenly seemed jealous and asked, “Could you do the Golden Scaled Python for me? For free?”

I laughed, “What are you thinking? The cost of the ink alone is at least 10,000. You want it for free? Besides, you don’t even need it. I’m afraid if I tattoo you, your hand will get too tired afterward.”

“Go to hell!” Xiao Zi Xing cursed, and never brought it up again.

I thought that was the end of it—Wu Ming had found happiness, and things were back to normal. But then, things took a tragic turn.

Six months later, Xiao Zi Xing took me to the hospital to see Wu Ming. He had turned into a eunuch.

Apparently, after the tattoo had worked, Wu Ming didn’t learn his lesson. His relationship with his wife Jing Jing, which had seemed strong at first, wasn’t based on true love. If it had been, would he have ended up with a woman like her in the first place?

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

In the beginning, they were happy, and he seemed devoted. But a handsome guy like Wu Ming, ultimately, was still shallow and flirtatious. After a while, he grew tired of Jing Jing, who was overweight and not attractive.

Wu Ming started cheating on her. At first, he did it secretly, but soon he was more open about it, even flirting with other women in front of her. His charm and good looks had made him a magnet for women, and he had several affairs going on at once. Some rich women were even offering to keep him. Why would he care about Jing Jing now?

In his eyes, she was nothing more than a stepping stone—a placeholder until he got better. But once he was "fixed," she became an obstacle.

Eventually, Wu Ming demanded a divorce. No matter how much Jing Jing cried and begged, he didn’t care. He’d been waiting to get rid of her for a long time. Finally, Jing Jing, in a state of hopelessness, agreed to one last dinner with him before they parted ways.

That meal, however, would change everything. Jing Jing had secretly spiked his food with a drug. When Wu Ming woke up, he was tied to a chair, unable to move.

And then came the horror. In a cold, calculating rage, Jing Jing took a knife and slowly, painfully, turned Wu Ming into a eunuch—one incision after another. She made sure he would never be able to cheat on anyone again.

Honestly, just hearing about this makes most men feel a phantom pain in the wrong places, but I can’t even begin to imagine what Wu Ming went through.

Jing Jing had taken all of the pain and betrayal Wu Ming had caused her, and with each cut, she paid him back in kind.

Afterward, Jing Jing tore up their marriage certificate and jumped from a building.

Her last words were that Wu Ming would never cheat again. As for her, she could never divorce him. Maybe she still loved him, in some twisted way, but she hated him too.

Jing Jing died, but Wu Ming was rushed to the hospital. The doctors shook their heads—they couldn’t do anything. He’d been brought in too late, and the damage was irreversible.

We were Wu Ming’s last hope. Xiao Zi Xing and I rushed to the hospital. When we arrived, Wu Ming, in excruciating pain, knelt before me, begging me to save him.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Did he think the ghost tattoo was magic? Once something was gone, how could it come back?

“You brought this on yourself,” I said coldly. “I already helped you once with a ghost tattoo. If you don’t cherish it, then don’t blame me when things go wrong.”

But Wu Ming wouldn’t listen. What man could accept being turned into a eunuch? He kept begging, his body shaking, even though the pain must have been unbearable. He prostrated himself in front of me three times, until the blood soaked through his pants and the wounds began to reopen.

I looked at him and said, “Even if I could do something for you, do you have the money for it? If you really want something this powerful, it won’t be just 100,000. Try ten times that, at least.”

Wu Ming said he didn’t have it, but his girlfriends did. They would pay anything to help him.

He frantically started calling every woman he had been with. Some of them were even wealthy, but no one answered. The ones who did answer hung up immediately, not giving him the time of day.

What did he expect? Now that he was a broken man, who would care about him? These women had only been interested in his looks and his ability to please them. If they truly cared, they wouldn’t have cheated with him in the first place.

I patted Wu Ming on the shoulder and said, “Brother, stop calling. The one woman who would give you money has already been hurt so much by you. She’s no longer in your contact list.”

Wu Ming froze. His phone slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor. Then, he broke down and started crying. He was completely destroyed.

I didn’t know why he was so devastated—after all, he’d done this to himself—but Xiao Zi Xing, fearing for his mental state, rushed to get a doctor. I decided to leave, but Xiao Zi Xing stayed behind to care for him for a while. Later, I heard that Wu Ming had left the city and went to a remote village. No one heard from him again.

And so, Wu Ming’s fate was sealed. But it was only six months later that we could look back and reflect on everything that had happened.

Now, with all the madness behind me, I pulled out Zhao Donglai’s address. It seemed it was time to pay a visit to my twin wives.