Myriad Heavens: Who Let Him Into the Horror Movie?

Chapter 9: Battle of Spells  (Part 2)

Injuring the head-descending sorcerer meant the next step was to break the curse.

Wan Madama held a spool of thread in his left hand and a candle in his right, slowly wrapping the white thread around the candle, loop after loop.

After winding the proper number of circles, he lit the candle and began dripping the melting wax, bit by bit, onto the small Buddha statue in the jar before him.

The white wax dripped more and more, flowing continuously down from the statue’s head, gradually forming a white layer over it.

The solemn chanting of sutras continued without pause.

Wan Madama’s consciousness had already connected to another place through the statue.

……

Ma Gusu’s heart trembled. He suddenly opened his eyes and looked toward the pristine white statue of an evil god on the altar.

The statue began to tremble.

The trembling in Ma Gusu’s heart turned into fear.

Ignoring the pain throughout his body, he rushed toward the statue.

But just as he reached it, the statue exploded into a pile of fine white ash, and Ma Gusu’s outstretched hands closed around that very pile.

A sudden gust of wind scattered the ashes, revealing a photograph beneath.

The photo was nailed to the altar with four coffin nails.

If Wong Kam-Sun had been there, he would have immediately recognized it—it was a photo of Lam Wai!

Aside from the shattered idol, there were still more than a dozen other evil statues on the altar, each suppressing a photograph underneath.

This meant that at least a dozen or more people had fallen victim to Ma Gusu’s head-descending curse and were suffering fates worse than death.

The moment Ma Gusu saw the photograph, he also understood the opponent’s intent.

That woman’s sudden disappearance last night was clearly related to this person as well.

Ma Gusu would never allow the other side to lift the curse from that man.

A few hours ago, his ghost curse had been broken, injuring his very essence.

If this curse was broken now, he would not survive it unscathed.

However, before Ma Gusu could react, he vaguely saw in front of him a monk wearing yellow robes, holding in his left hand a candle wrapped with white thread.

The monk’s eyes were wide with fury. He shouted a mighty word and suddenly struck forward with his right palm.

Ma Gusu was struck as though by lightning, flung backward several meters, crashing to the ground, clutching his chest and curling up in pain.

It felt as though a massive weight had slammed into his chest. Sharp pain radiated from his ribs and heart, each wave more intense than the last, making him feel once again that death would be preferable to this torment.

He knew that anyone who dared to break a head-descending curse after witnessing his spell must possess profound power—but he hadn’t expected someone this powerful.

Even though his opponent had seized the initiative, Ma Gusu, standing before his own altar, would never cower.

He struggled to his feet.

At that moment—bang!—the wooden door was violently kicked open from outside.

Two bloodstained, ragged men, looking like demons themselves, rushed in with machetes in hand, charging straight at him, clearly intent on hacking him into mincemeat.

For someone to storm his altar at such a critical moment…

Ma Gusu felt a surge of dread, though not panic—he had made preparations.

He grabbed his cloak with his right hand and gave it a hard shake. A swarm of venomous scorpions dropped to the ground with a hiss, charging menacingly toward the intruders.

This was Ma Gusu’s domain. Though he usually appeared unguarded, anyone foolish enough to intrude upon a head-descending sorcerer’s territory would soon learn how terrifying their craft could be.

But when he saw the two men stomping over the scorpions to reach him, Ma Gusu’s face changed again.

Looking closely, he saw that they were wearing thick-soled boots.

The scorpions’ tails couldn’t pierce such boots and were crushed underfoot.

Realizing he was about to be hacked apart, Ma Gusu scrambled toward a side table covered in jars and pots.

The two pursuers were none other than Li Zhen and Wong Kam-Sun.

Ordinary people feared vicious dogs mainly because they wanted to get through unharmed.

Once they stopped caring about injuries, those dogs would learn the terror of upright apes wielding tools.

Spear guns were useless against dogs—one swing and they’d be ruined.

The trusty choice was still the machete.

A few vicious dogs had already been hacked to death by the two men within moments.

Though they looked disheveled, most of the blood on them belonged to the dogs.

As soon as they entered and saw Ma Gusu lying on the ground, no words were needed. Fueled by rage, they charged to kill him outright.

Treading over the dead scorpions, the two men raised their machetes and closed in on Ma Gusu.

Panting heavily, Ma Gusu shoved over a large jar.

With a crash, over a dozen white skulls rolled out from within.

Grabbing a rooster that had been prepared beside the jar, Ma Gusu violently twisted off its neck and began flailing its corpse wildly.

His chanting was sharp and piercing.

As the rooster’s blood splattered over the skulls, the skulls began to twitch as if given life.

One skull opened its mouth wide, nearly biting Li Zhen’s leg.

Li Zhen instinctively stepped back.

Though his thick boots offered protection, he didn’t dare let something so sinister sink its teeth into him.

Wong Kam-Sun also retreated from the grotesque sight before them.

Meanwhile, Ma Gusu’s ritual continued.

The skulls kept twitching, and from beneath them crawled bats with blood-red eyes.

These bats were clearly no ordinary creatures—they were cursed entities linked to the head-descending arts.

The instant Li Zhen saw them, his heart skipped a beat.

Without hesitation, he tore open his backpack, ignoring whatever spilled out, and grabbed a fine-mesh fishing net he had prepared. Like a fisherman casting at sea, he flung it out, covering the skulls and bats on the ground.

Though his throwing wasn’t elegant, the net did its job—everything beneath was trapped.

Li Zhen remembered that Ma Gusu’s curses were associated with bats, and the spell he was using now likely involved such creatures. That was why he’d asked Wong Kam-Sun to bring a fishing net beforehand—and now, it proved invaluable.

Seeing Li Zhen cast the net, Wong Kam-Sun was filled with admiration.

So this was why Li Zhen bought the fishing net…

When he’d bought it, Wong Kam-Sun had thought it was ridiculous, unnecessary even.

But now he realized—Li Zhen had thought everything through.

He couldn’t help but wonder again—just how much hatred did Li Zhen harbor toward head-descending sorcerers to have considered every possible detail?

Such meticulous foresight made Wong Kam-Sun feel deeply reassured, his confidence rising.

Seeing the skulls and bats trapped beneath the net, Ma Gusu’s vision darkened.

How could his opponent counter him at every turn?

A deep unease filled his heart.

But there was no time to think.

The coffin nails pinning down the photograph were being pulled upward.

The other side had reached the final stage of breaking the curse.

He must not let them succeed!

In a panic, Ma Gusu chanted another incantation, hurled the rooster’s body onto the skulls, then ran back to the altar, pressing his hands down hard on the coffin nails that were already half-extracted!