Myriad Heavens: Who Let Him Into the Horror Movie?

Chapter 12: The Evil Bat and the Corpse Descent

The void gradually began to take on color.

The original hospital ward turned into a cozy bedroom.

Li Zhen stood before the desk, still wearing his hospital gown. The bag that had been in his hand had vanished, and its contents were now scattered across the floor.

The dim bedside lamp illuminated a corner of the room.

The clock hanging on the wall showed half past twelve at night—only a few hours since Li Zhen had disappeared.

This familiar environment brought him an indescribable sense of safety.

He had brought everything back. But this “reward” was truly… hard to put into words.

Wasn’t this just taking what others had obtained and turning it into a “reward” to give to someone else again?

Li Zhen quickly skimmed over the faintly fading words in the air, feeling utterly speechless.

A few strange “squeak-squeak” noises came from the floor.

Red-Eyed Bat?

Li Zhen crouched down and reached into the writhing torn clothes on the ground. From the chest area of his tattered garment, a large bat slowly crawled out.

There had originally been several holes pierced by the Ritual Implement in that spot, still stained with traces of the bat’s blood.

Now, it seemed to have become a “passage” connected to some other realm.

This evil creature, called the Red-Eyed Bat, was identical in size to the one Li Zhen had pierced to death before.

Its bared fangs and hideous expression were eerily similar—he wondered if it was the same bat, somehow resurrected.

The bat screeched sharply a few times, spreading its wings from the torn clothes. Its crimson eyes locked onto Li Zhen’s.

Chaos…

Distortion…

Cruelty…

Li Zhen could clearly feel the bat’s malicious will emanating from its gaze.

A violent wave of dizziness struck him, forcing a dry heave from his throat.

“Squeak!”

The Red-Eyed Bat shrieked again, flapping its wings as it tried to pull its legs free.

Li Zhen’s heart jumped.

He still had lingering fear toward this bat.

Pulling open the drawer beneath the desk, he quickly took out two syringes.

He jabbed one needle into his own arm, letting it soak up his blood, then pressed down on the struggling bat. Removing the needle, he inserted both syringes into the bat’s ears.

The bat screamed a few more times, its struggles weakening. Its crimson eyes slowly closed.

At this moment, its entire body had manifested fully into reality.

It worked…

Li Zhen let out a breath of relief.

He released the bat.

The creature, with needles stuck in both ears, collapsed limply atop the torn clothes.

The Evil Bat was the core of Ma Gusu’s school of Head-Descending Curse—it was an indispensable element for casting such sorcery.

Methods of offering and controlling the bat were thoroughly described in the books obtained from Ma Gusu. Almost every type of Head-Descending Curse mentioned it.

This alone showed how wary Ma Gusu’s faction was of this creature.

Li Zhen lifted his tattered clothes and set the bat carefully on the desk.

The whip and those booklets had been obtained by Li Zhen himself—the “reward” merely allowed him to bring them back.

Strictly speaking, the only true reward was this bat.

No—

Li Zhen suddenly froze.

He realized something.

Was this bat truly a new entity conjured from nothing?

Such an assumption required that the bat Ma Gusu had summoned had actually died.

But had that bat, the one pierced into pulp, truly died?

Could such a malevolent entity—one even Master Wan Madama found difficult to subdue—be killed so easily?

If… the evil creature hadn’t died at all, but had instead clung to the bloodstains on his torn clothes in some strange manner…

That would better explain its dreadful reputation—and fit with how the other “rewards” had come to be.

Li Zhen carefully observed the bat on the desk for a long while before averting his gaze, his wariness deepening further.

Still, obtaining this creature was indeed a reason for him to rejoice.

Without it, he would have needed to follow the book’s instructions and seek out another suitable evil entity as the foundation of his Head-Descending practice—something that would have cost him a great deal of time and effort.

And now… all he lacked was an altar, and he could begin his training in the Head-Descending Curse.

Li Zhen knew that Head-Descending was a wicked art, and that those who practiced it rarely met good ends—but it could prolong his life.

Life was so precious. What harm was there in paying a price for it?

Smiling faintly, Li Zhen picked up the palm-leaf whip from the floor and placed it reverently on the desk’s pen rack.

“Xiao Zhen, you’re still awake? I heard noises in your room. Do you want a late-night snack?” A woman’s voice suddenly called from outside the door.

“No need, Aunt He. I’ll sleep after I read for a bit.” Li Zhen casually replied while gathering the booklets on the floor.

“Oh, alright. Don’t read too long, get more rest. If you don’t rest enough, you’ll lose your energy, and even food won’t taste good…”

As her nagging voice and soft footsteps faded away, silence returned.

After moving to the suburbs to recover, fewer and fewer people came to visit Li Zhen.

Now, only he and an aunt who tended to his daily needs lived in the entire house—peaceful, yet lonely.

Li Zhen opened to the first page of The Twelve Head-Descending Curses, which he hadn’t read before.

A glance at its content left him astonished.

For a book that recorded such vile and bloody curses, its first page was actually a warning—urging practitioners to act with utmost caution when casting.

Its main message was that though Head-Descending could help the caster achieve their goals, unlike other methods, it also trapped the practitioner within their own curse.

Once a Head-Descending Curse was used on someone, the caster could only passively wait for the final outcome.

If one often walked by the river, could they really expect never to get their feet wet?

This world was vast—one could never predict when someone capable of breaking the curse might appear. When that happened, it was the practitioner who would suffer.

Ma Gusu’s death was the most vivid proof of that.

So, there were clear-headed practitioners among the Head-Descending sorcerers…

After finishing the first page, Li Zhen found its reasoning quite convincing.

He turned another page. Drawing upon the fragmented memories he had obtained, Li Zhen began to carefully study the various Head-Descending Curses within the booklet once more.

Half an hour later, he reached the third-to-last curse—Corpse Descent.

It was one of the three most difficult curses among the twelve.

Once cast on a living person, the victim would gradually lose all five senses, transforming into a half-human, half-corpse monstrosity—until the body lost all vitality, rotted, and bred maggots.

Even then, the victim would not die easily; they would watch themselves rot, helplessly, until nothing but putrid flesh remained.

Even after total decay, the soul would remain sealed inside the corpse, suffering endless torment day and night—until the bones finally turned to ash. Only then would release come.

There was no death more cruel than this.

The booklet stated that this curse was so wicked and difficult that only those of great spiritual power could perform it.

Great spiritual power…

Li Zhen pondered for a moment before turning another page.

After finishing the booklet for the second time, Li Zhen leaned back in his chair, rubbing his brow wearily. Then he picked up his phone from the desk and dialed a contact labeled “Fatty Wong.”

A frivolous voice answered immediately, “Hey, Old Zhen, calling me at this hour… What’s up? Changed your mind? Want to leave some offspring? I’ll bring someone right over—thin, fat, pretty, your pick…”

A faint smile appeared on Li Zhen’s face. “I need some things. Get them for me as soon as you can tomorrow.”

“What—seriously? You’ve really changed your mind?! No need to wait for tomorrow, I’ll come right now!”