The reason why it becomes what it is now is because there is a resentful spirit living in the inkstone, which gives the inkstone an evil nature. In order to survive, the resentful spirit confuses people's minds and induces people to donate their own blood to it.
Hearing this, Yang Songbai and Zhou Yuanxing became unhappy and said, "You must have read it wrong. This Duanxi blood inkstone has been appraised by several famous experts and is absolutely certain to be a treasure."
Ji Wufeng smiled slightly and said: "Before, you suspected that what I made you see was all an illusion because I drugged you. Before I say the following, I hope you can be sure whether I drugged you or not?"
"What do you want to say?"
Zhang Chen glared.
"I'm afraid that later you will see something you have never seen before, and then you will say that I was drugged and what you saw was just an illusion."
Ji Wufeng shrugged his shoulders.
Without waiting for anyone to say anything, Yang Qingwu said: "I have been paying attention to you since you entered the door. Even if you want to drug me, you have no chance."
Yang Qingwu, like Zhang Chen, did not believe Ji Wufeng, and was almost certain that the ghosts Zhou Yuanxing and Yang Songbai had seen before were hallucinations caused by drugs.
So she had been paying attention to Ji Wufeng, hoping to find evidence that he had drugged him and bring him to justice, but in the end it was confirmed that he had not drugged him.
"That's good."
Ji Wufeng turned to look at Yang Songbai and asked, "Let me ask you, do you often drop your own blood into the inkstone to grind ink?"
Yang Songbai was stunned immediately, and everyone knew from his expression that what Ji Wufeng said was true.
Zhang Chen curled his lips and said, "What's this?
Using your own blood to make ink can make the ink spiritual, which is a method passed down from ancient times."
"Yes, the ancients did have this method, but they wouldn't do it, right?"
Ji Wufeng took a step forward and suddenly grabbed Yang Songbai's arm.
Everyone was startled, and Zhang Chen immediately said angrily: "What do you want to do?"
Ji Wufeng rolled up Yang Songbai's sleeves. Everyone was dumbfounded. They saw that Yang Songbai's arms were covered with dense scars, all of which were cuts. Some of the wounds were so deep that they almost reached the bone.
Zhou Yuanxing took a breath and said, "Old Yang, what are you doing?"
It is true that the ancients used blood to grind ink, but Yang Songbai went too far and was simply hurting himself.
Yang Song looked at Ji Wufeng with fear. Even his wife didn't know that he used blood to grind ink. How did Ji Wufeng know?
Ji Wufeng asked Yang Songbai: "If you think about it carefully, are you dripping blood more and more when you grind ink? It becomes more and more frequent, and sometimes it is even out of your control?"
Yang Songbai's face instantly turned pale, and he nodded and said: "Yes, I think the more blood I drop, the better my calligraphy will be, and the more I write, the more excited I will be. Sometimes I can't sleep well in the middle of the night, but it's all by accident.
Go shed blood and write something."
Every time after he finished writing, he would see the horrific wounds on his body and make up his mind to restrain himself, but every time before writing, he would feel like he was possessed and out of control.
"That's because after this inkstone is fed by your blood, it becomes more and more powerful and requires more and more blood. It's like raising a pig. The fatter it becomes, the more it will eat."
Ji Wufeng said.
"You can tell such absurd, nonsense, and deceptive stories about ghosts and gods, and yet you still say you are not a liar?"
Zhang Chen said angrily.
"Is this nonsense? I would like to ask Mr. Yang and he will know it very well. As a master of education, he should understand the principle of playing with things and losing one's ambition. How could he do such an extreme behavior just because he loves calligraphy?"
Ji Wufeng looked at Yang Songbai and said.
Sure enough, as soon as Ji Wufeng said these words, everyone's expressions suddenly changed.
Especially Yang Qingwu, his grandfather taught him since he was a child that people can have preferences, but they must not be too addicted, otherwise they will become bored with things.
And Yang Songbai is more than just playing with things to lose one's ambition?
It’s like a plaything that dies! “That’s nonsense, you bastard, I’m going to call the police to arrest you!”
Zhang Chen jumped on his feet and said.
But at this moment, Yang Songbai's face changed, and he seemed to be very excited. He sat at the desk and said, "No matter what, I have to write a word first."
After saying that, he rolled up his sleeves, picked up the knife, and was about to bleed blood and grind ink! Everyone was dumbfounded. Regardless of whether what Ji Wufeng said before was true or false, it was scary enough. Yang Songbai actually wanted to bleed blood and grind ink at this time. Why?
It feels extremely weird to see it.
"Grandpa, what are you doing?
Put the knife down quickly!"
Yang Qingwu stepped forward and grabbed Yang Songbai's hand.
Yang Songbai's eyes suddenly showed fierceness and he said: "Let me go, I have to write one now. If anyone stops me, don't blame me for being rude!"
Yang Qingwu had never seen such a fierce look in Yang Songbai's eyes. He was so frightened that he stepped back. Yang Songbai swung the knife and cut it on his arm, and blood spurted into the inkstone.
Seeing this scene, everyone's hair stood on end. This Yang Songbai was simply possessed by evil spirits, lost his mind, and went crazy! "Great Immortal, please save the old man quickly, he will die if he continues like this!"
The old lady grabbed Ji Wufeng's arm and cried.
After Yang Songbai finished cutting his arm, he looked crazy and murmured: "Not enough, not enough, not enough!"
After saying that, he cut himself several more times, cutting deeper and deeper, and finally raised the knife to cut his own throat! "Grandpa..." Yang Qingwu screamed in fright, and rushed over to grab the knife.
But they saw Yang Songbai's eyes were red, his face was ferocious, he brandished a knife and stabbed Yang Qingwu, and said sternly: "You dare to stop me, I will kill you!"
The moment she saw Yang Songbai's face, Yang Qingwu was stunned. Although it was still her grandfather's face, she was sure that the person in front of her was definitely not her grandfather.
Her grandfather would never want to kill anyone, let alone her granddaughter! "Qingwu, be careful!"
Seeing that the knife was about to stab Yang Qingwu's body, everyone screamed in fright.
Ding dong! There was a crisp sound, and when the knife was only one centimeter away from Yang Qingwu's body, it was pinched by two fingers.
It was Ji Wufeng who took action, staring at the inkstone and saying coldly: "You are too greedy!"
He suddenly slapped the inkstone with his palm, and immediately a burst of blood-red mist rose from the inkstone, and a terrifying human face appeared in the blood mist.
"Oh my god, what a ghost!"
Zhang Chen was so frightened that he fell to the ground and got under the table.
Yang Qingwu, on the other hand, was so frightened that his face turned pale. He screamed, turned around, jumped on Ji Wufeng's body, and hugged his neck tightly, trembling all over.
Clang! Ji Wufeng pressed his fingers hard, and the knife in Yang Songbai's hand broke into two pieces and fell to the ground.
