"The least you could do is pull the damn clothes open!"
John’s voice cracked in a frantic, high-pitched roar from above.
Elias snapped his eyes open. Looking at the green-glowing ghost hopping around in phantom pain—a scene that looked like a total caricature—he twitched the corner of his mouth awkwardly.
"My bad," he apologized, sounding completely insincere.
With that, he reached out and ruthlessly tore open the blue official robes the zombie was wearing.
Rip—!
The old fabric gave way instantly.
Beneath it lay a layer of greenish skin, already showing early signs of bloat.
A thick, concentrated stench of decay erupted in an instant.
Elias held his breath, braving the biochemical toxin that felt strong enough to send a man straight to heaven, and adjusted his position.
He gripped the "rotten branch" in his hand, aimed it at the corpse's abdomen...
And stabbed downward.
Squeltch. The sound of the blade piercing flesh was exceptionally clear in the cramped grave.
"Did you not see my chest?" Seeing Elias start his 'work,' John couldn't help but start grumbling again from mid-air.
"Those damn quacks at the autopsy room basically butchered my chest cavity when they did the post-mortem."
"Then, because they were afraid I might be some important figure with a background, they stitched it back up in such a messy, rushed way!"
John's tone was filled with disdain for the coroners of the Old Palace Yard.
Elias, however, had no interest in listening to his complaints.
The resistance felt through the tip of the blade left him with only one thought—
John’s physical toughness as a Scale Three transcendent was actually quite impressive.
Even though he had been dead for several days, the muscles and skin still maintained considerable resilience.
He couldn't afford to worry about how gentle his technique was or how to make the disembowelment look professional and dignified.
Because under the continuous influence of the dream demon curse, his senses were becoming sluggish.
This sluggishness was like punching underwater; even his thoughts were half a beat slow.
Still, this was one of the better scenarios.
If it were worse...
Like the sensory distortion he experienced while being hunted by the carapace husk on the island...
Then the one doing the most damage to John's "golem" of a body wouldn't be those quack coroners from the Old Palace Yard.
It would be himself.
"I think..." Seeing Elias still sawing away at the corpse's belly, John spoke up again.
His voice sounded a bit faint.
"The opening is big enough."
"My guts are literally falling out..."
Elias stopped, glancing down at the mess.
Then he looked up, casting a strange gaze toward John.
"So, where did you hide that thing?"
He paused, his tone carrying a hint of shock and disgust.
"It's not actually where I think it is, is it?!"
If it was the traditional "human trunk" storage method, he felt like he could call it a day right then and there.
With that, Elias decisively put down the knife.
He fished out a pair of medical gloves he had prepared and carefully pulled them on.
He was laying a solid foundation of protection for the potentially foul "abdominal exploration project" ahead.
"Screw you!" John barked, visibly annoyed in mid-air.
"It's my other containment object!"
"The Gluttonous Stomach!"
Elias ignored his rage and reached his gloved hand directly into the opened belly of Zombie John.
He began rummaging through a pile of slimy organs.
As he searched, he didn't forget to complain.
"You have way too many containment objects!"
This guy actually managed to hide so many items on his person.
Did he get these containment objects wholesale or something?
"You have to understand, these are the assets I've accumulated over many years!"
While Elias was busy rummaging, John floated down in front of him and emphasized righteously.
"The Gluttonous Stomach was also the vital containment object that allowed me to escape the Seventh Agency's pursuit!"
There was even a hint of pride in his tone that he couldn't hide.
Elias's hand groped between the cold organs as he asked casually:
"So why is it inside your body?"
"Because it has a side effect."
When it came to the properties of containment objects, John immediately regained his professional demeanor.
"If it isn't fed a tasty living creature within three days, it first begins to dissolve the items stored inside."
"Secondly..."
John's expression soured.
"It will actively seek out the nearest exposed skin of a living being and burrow right in."
"Naturally, it prioritizes the user."
"And then what happens?" Elias didn't stop, following the intestinal tract upward.
"The stomach pouch attaches itself to the outside of the host's stomach wall, establishing a connection with the host's circulatory system."
John explained.
"Furthermore, it can't be removed through conventional surgical means because it has the traits of a living creature; it will actively dodge the scalpel and shift positions within the abdominal cavity."
"Oh!" Elias had a moment of realization.
He instantly pieced together the logic of the whole situation.
"So, after you stole that thing, you hid it inside this 'Gluttonous Stomach'?"
"And unfortunately, before you were killed, you happened to go three days without feeding it."
"So it automatically activated its side effect and burrowed into your gut?"
John nodded helplessly.
"Exactly."
"But don't worry, once the host dies, the stomach pouch falls into dormancy."
Fate really did have a sense of dark humor sometimes.
"I can ask who killed you?" Elias continued to rummage through the abdomen, casually changing the subject.
Just then.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed dense green sprouts beginning to grow around the pit.
Looking closely, those swaying things weren't plants at all.
They were strings of tiny, green, miniature human arms!
They were waving frantically from the soil.
This hallucination was getting more and more ridiculous.
But Elias had long since grown accustomed to these bizarre, sanity-dropping sights.
He didn't even blink, adding quite naturally:
"Just curious."
"People from the Mist Veil Society." John's eyes darkened.
"It seemed to be a deacon."
"They wanted that containment object."
"And obviously, I wasn't willing to give it to them."
John let out a cold laugh.
As a Storm Thief, how could he possibly hand over such a choice piece of meat?
Just then.
Squish—
Accompanied by the slippery sound of organs rubbing together.
Elias's movements stopped.
His hand had brushed against a foreign object beneath the corpse's stomach.
"Got it."
He gave a sharp tug.
An object covered in black blood clots was pulled out.
This was the containment object known as the "Gluttonous Stomach."
From the outside, it was only about the size of an adult's fist.
It was a shriveled, sac-like object, appearing in a sickly shade of dark pink.
Its surface was covered in dense, complex folds.
Holding it, it felt like a piece of pig tripe that had been dried for a long time.
It seemed to be a rare spatial storage-type containment object in the supernatural world.
"How about I keep this safe for you for now too?" Elias looked at the stomach pouch in his hand and raised an eyebrow, speaking very "loyally."
His tone was sincere, as if he truly were sharing John's burdens.
"Heh."
Facing this blatant highway robbery, John only replied with two words.
"It's yours."
John's translucent spiritual body floated a bit closer, staring intently at the stomach pouch.
"But can you take out the thing inside first?"
Since the original owner had said so, Elias naturally wouldn't be polite.
He heard this and intended to reach directly into the opening of the sac.
At that very instant.
"Wait!"
Old Ed's raspy voice exploded anxiously in the depths of Elias's mind like a thunderclap.
"Something's wrong with him!"
The old man's warning was incredibly abrupt.
And at that exact moment.
Within his constantly active Spirit Sensing.
Elias keenly caught a tiny, incredibly faint ripple in John's emotions.
No matter how well John hid it.
Even though he still maintained that helpless and urgent ghost persona on the surface.
It was still instantly caught by Elias, whose spirituality far exceeded that of an ordinary person.
At the very same moment he reached his hand into the Gluttonous Stomach.
Deep within John's spiritual emotions, a trace of excitement flared, one that was being desperately suppressed.
The excitement of a predator seeing its prey about to fall into a trap.
Elias's pupils constricted.
He immediately halted all movement.
Amidst the swaying hallucinations all around him.
He remained in a semi-crouched position and slowly looked up.
His deep eyes pierced through the absurd lights and shadows, locking onto John in mid-air.
"John."
His voice was soft, yet it carried a bone-chilling coldness.
"Why the hurry?"
Rate on N.U.
