I decided to give Stein's friend Paul a Golden-Scaled Python tattoo, but before I did, I had to ask him what was wrong with him.
I mean, it's awkward to talk about a man's private problems, but shouldn't he be in the hospital? Why pin his hopes on the Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts?
Paul explained that, in fact, he had been to many hospitals for this condition but simply couldn't be cured. It was all because he hadn't practiced restraint in his younger years—he changed girlfriends too often. You know, if you overdo that, it's not good.
Good grief. Listening to him, Stein and I—motherless virgins for what felt like ten thousand years—couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. Paul was also really good-looking. Standing next to Stein, they looked like Wu Song and Wu Dalang.
Paul said that since then, he hadn't touched a woman again—and he couldn't, because it just wouldn't work. But he was lucky to have met Stein!
Luckily, he found true love and even got married. His current wife didn't care about his condition, but Paul felt guilty. Since their marriage, he hadn't fulfilled his husband's duties. They were a couple in name, but not in reality. Paul had always wanted to cure this disease, but after visiting many hospitals with no results, he finally met Stein again.
Normally, no one would openly talk about this kind of thing, but Paul and Stein had grown up together in the orphanage—they were that close. So he confided his troubles to Stein.
When Stein heard about it, he remembered that his grandfather had once given a Yin-inspired tattoo to someone with a similar problem, and it seemed quite effective. So he dragged Paul here.
Sigh. A handsome rooster brought low! No wonder it wasn't working—turns out he'd overdone it. Unfortunate, but at least he'd had his fun back then!
I told him there was indeed such a Yin-inspired tattoo, but the price was steep—$100,000! However, if it didn't work, I'd give a full refund—not a penny less.
"So expensive!" Paul immediately tensed up. He said that raising that much money would be hard—$100,000 wasn't a small sum for him.
Well, I couldn't help him then. After all, I wasn't running a charity. No money, no tattoo—I still needed funds to save my grandfather.
Paul thought for a moment, then stepped out to make a call. When he returned, he said his wife was helping him gather the money, and it might arrive soon.
About two hours later, a short, plump woman rushed in. This was Paul's wife—not particularly good-looking, with slightly dark skin, a far cry from Paul's appearance. But they were true love, so what did that matter?
Paul's wife, Ella, truly loved him. The $100,000 was her money, and she even rushed over during her shift to deliver it.
Once I got the money, I didn't delay—I immediately started working on the Golden-Scaled Python tattoo.
This Golden-Scaled Python glistens like ancient embroidery, its scaly armor unpredictable. The vestigial traces of hind limbs remain on both sides of its body, which is thick at the front and tapers toward the tail—thin as a steel needle, capable of piercing a hundred copper coins. It can strangle and swallow both animals and humans whole.
It looks like a snake, but tattooing it is far more challenging than a regular snake, requiring immense effort.
For maximum effect, I decided to place the Yin-inspired tattoo on my inner thigh—a fitting location for an eerie creature like the Golden-Scaled Python.
When everything was ready, I suddenly smacked my forehead, realizing I had forgotten one crucial thing: the ink for the Yin-inspired tattoo. I hadn't bought the ghost ink yet!
I told Paul to wait and rushed out to call Christoph.
The call connected, but there was no sound from Christoph's end. I called his name a few times, but no one answered—yet I could sense someone was there.
I was puzzled. What was going on? No signal, or was the phone malfunctioning?
I tapped my cell phone a few times, but there was still no sound. Just then, I suddenly heard Christoph's voice cursing on the other end:
"What kind of call are you answering, you dead man? Get lost! In a few days, when I'm done with you, I'll toss you into the furnace and burn you to ashes!"
Dead man? Could it be that the one who answered my call… wasn't human?
The furnace he mentioned was the crematorium's incinerator—where bodies go in and ashes come out.
A few seconds later, Christoph's laughter came through the phone. He apologized and asked what I needed—was I taking care of his business?
I cut him off: "Enough nonsense, hurry up and send me a ghost. I've got a client here who can't wait long."
Christoph laughed harder than ever, saying I was finally getting the hang of things. Then he asked what kind of Yin-inspired tattoo I wanted.
I told him it was a Golden-Scaled Python tattoo for a male guest who couldn't handle it.
Christoph said he understood. He mentioned that last month, there was a "cargo" that had been sitting around for a while—a white boy who had been "drained dry" by three wealthy women in succession.
The boy had gone out with weak legs, then died of a brain hemorrhage after falling down the stairs. He'd be perfect for the Golden-Scaled Python.
The price was the same: ten thousand dollars. "Friendship discount," he said, "no overcharging—absolute value for money."
I said, "Stop the crap and just send it. Money isn't an issue." After all, I stood to make ninety thousand in profit.
"Got it. I'll deliver it personally right now. Just wait a moment," Christoph said cheerfully before hanging up.
This old man—happy to do business with a grandson-like demeanor—yet still referred to me as "you."
Christoph's actions were really fast, even quicker than last time by several minutes. What he handed to me was the same bamboo tube, but unlike before, the "thing" inside wasn't screaming about murder.
"I don't want to die, I don't want to die… I don't want to eat soft rice anymore, let me out…"
There was still a voice inside the bamboo tube, but now it was wailing and begging for mercy, even mixed with sobs.
"What do you mean you don't want to die? You're already dead!" Christoph slapped the bamboo tube, and the voice immediately stopped.
"Heh heh, this little white boy—handsome when he was alive, and very capable in that department. The Golden-Scaled Python tattoo's effect will be top-notch." After collecting payment, Master Christoph grinned at me before leaving.
This old man—fierce-faced, yet all smiles when doing business—was like a sly fox.
Once inside the tattoo room, I secretly opened the bamboo tube and poured its contents into the tattoo pigment.
A slithering sound followed as a stream of black mist flowed down, merging with the pigment—exactly like last time. The bamboo tube was now empty.
This thing was so sinister that it made my hair stand on end every time I used it.
With the Yin-inspired tattoo ready, I began tattooing the Golden-Scaled Python onto Paul. It took several hours, lasting until dark.
The Yin-inspired tattoo itself had taken less than ten minutes—just enough time to sit down for tea and a cigarette. But Paul said he already felt his long-lost strength slowly returning, his body brimming with energy.
The Yin-inspired tattoo was different—its effects were dominant.
His wife, standing beside him, was overjoyed, eagerly saying they should go home and test it out. I told them to hurry up and leave, not to spread their dog food all over me.
But as they were leaving, I suddenly spotted a pale figure clutching Paul's thigh.
The man had a delicate, fair face, his skin snake-like—covered in disgusting, scaly particles. His small torso had two malformed legs, and a silver-hooked tail protruded behind him.
Wasn't this… extremely similar to the Golden-Scaled Python I had just tattooed?