Sludge suction system

Wu Mai paced back and forth in his study, each step heavy and hurried, as if he were pounding potholes into the floor. Liu Jun's abduction of Wu Dongzi had initially enraged him, but he quickly calmed down, his mind racing. "This might be a godsend, a chance to speed up the plan," he murmured, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

He reached out and rummaged through the bookshelf for a while, pulling out a yellowed ancient book. The four large characters on the cover, "Secret Manual of Witchcraft," exuded an eerie aura. He quickly flipped through it, stopping at the page that recorded the technique of casting spells on voodoo dolls. A glint of madness flashed in his eyes. "This is it. As long as I get Lingji's birth date and time, I can use this witchcraft technique to take his life."

Just then, footsteps sounded outside, and he quickly hid the ancient book. His trusted aide pushed open the door and entered respectfully, saying, "My lord, His Highness Linghuan's men have arrived and are requesting an audience outside." Wu Mai's eyes lit up, and he hurriedly said, "Please come in quickly!"

A moment later, Ling Huan's confidant hurriedly entered the study, took out a brocade pouch from his bosom, and handed it to Wu Mai: "Lord Wu Mai, His Highness asked me to send this. Ling Ji's birth date and time are inside. His Highness said that the sooner the matter is settled, the better."

Wu Mai took the brocade pouch, a confident smile on his face: "Go back and tell His Highness that I'll take care of everything. Within three days, he will have no more worries."

In the hidden, dimly lit basement of the Wumai mansion, time seemed to stand still, leaving only the pervasive atmosphere of decay and evil. In the center of the basement stood an altar radiating a cold, eerie light, constructed of heavy black boulders. It was covered with obscure, ancient runes that seemed to writhe and twist like living creatures, each rune whispering a dark curse.

Wumai wore a black robe embroidered with blood-red runes, which moved with each step, the runes slithering like nimble snakes. His wide hood concealed his face in shadow, revealing only his eyes, which gleamed with a mad and greedy light.

Wu Mai held a peach wood sword, its blade intricately engraved with runes, a ghostly green light flickering between the patterns. He circled the altar with a strange and eerie gait, chanting incantations in a low, hoarse voice, like the wails of demons from the depths of hell, each sound sending chills down one's spine. With each circle, he lightly tapped the altar with his sword, the crisp sound echoing in the deathly silent basement, accompanied by eerie resonances.

On the altar, a meticulously crafted straw effigy rested quietly. The effigy was dressed in clothing similar to that of Uncle Lingji, and its features were deliberately drawn to resemble Lingji's. A talisman was firmly affixed to its chest, and Lingji's birth date and time, written in cinnabar, emitted a chilling red glow in the dim light.

Around the straw figure, forty-nine black candles were arranged in a circle, their flames flickering and releasing an eerie green light, emitting a pungent, putrid stench. Wumai stopped, forcefully planting his peach wood sword into the edge of the altar. His hands moved rapidly, forming hand seals, his fingers darting through the air like nimble snakes, the rhythm of his incantations growing increasingly rapid. With his movements, the runes on the altar shone brightly, and thick, inky black mist surged forth from the gaps in the runes, quickly spreading and enveloping the entire altar.

Wu Mai looked up at the top of the basement, as if he could pierce through layers of obstacles and look directly at the bright moon in the night sky. "Lingji, for these forty-nine days, every single day, you will suffer in agony," he murmured, his voice full of vicious curses. "On the forty-ninth day, your death will be your day, and you will fall into an endless abyss of darkness forever."

He slowly reached out and picked up a slender silver needle placed beside the altar. The needle gleamed with a chilling light, like a deadly weapon in the hand of death. Wumai slowly brought the needle closer to the straw doll; in the dim light of the green candle, his face appeared even more ferocious. With a soft "plop," the needle pierced deeply into the straw doll's shoulder. Wumai let out a triumphant laugh, the sound echoing in the dark space like the roar of a demon.

Wumai, immersed in this evil curse ritual, eagerly awaited the arrival of the forty-ninth day, fantasizing that the moment Uncle Lingji died, he would become the biggest winner of this conspiracy.

The night was like a huge black silk ribbon, completely enveloping the entire imperial city. All around was silent, save for the occasional watchman's gong, which drifted leisurely through the thick darkness. Ling Huan sat upright in his study, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on his face, revealing a hint of unfathomable mystery.

"My lord, someone has arrived." The personal attendant's voice cautiously drifted in from outside the door.

"Please come in quickly," Ling Huan responded, his voice filled with barely suppressed urgency.

The door creaked open, and a lean man dressed in black strode in, knelt on one knee, and said respectfully, "Your Highness, everything has been done as you instructed. Lord Wumai has obtained Uncle Lingji's birth date and time, and is probably performing witchcraft at the moment."

Upon hearing this, Ling Huan's eyes flashed with a ruthless glint, and a cold smile curled at the corner of his lips. "Very good. You continue to keep an eye on Uncle Lingji's residence. If there is any movement, come back and report to me immediately."

"Yes!" The man in black accepted the order, and with a flash, he quickly disappeared into the night.

Ling Huan leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight, his thoughts drifting far away. Over the years, his uncle, Lingji, relying on his royal status and the prestige he had accumulated in court, had repeatedly opposed him, hindering him at every turn and becoming a stumbling block on his path to the pinnacle of power. Now that he had finally found an opportunity to eliminate this thorn in his side, how could he let it go so easily?

At the same time, all was quiet in Uncle Lingji's residence. Uncle Lingji had just finished a busy day and had gone to bed early. In his sleep, a slight smile still lingered on his lips, as if he were having a sweet dream.

Suddenly, a piercing pain exploded from his left shoulder, like molten lava being poured into his body. Uncle Lingji was jolted awake from his sleep, letting out a painful groan. He instinctively clutched his left shoulder, and the piercing pain shot up his arm and straight to his head wherever his palm touched, making his vision go black.

Large beads of sweat instantly covered Uncle Lingji's forehead, his face turned deathly pale, and his lips trembled slightly with pain. His body shook uncontrollably, his legs buckled, and he almost collapsed to the ground.

"This is..." Uncle Lingji gritted his teeth, managing to squeeze out a few words with great difficulty, his eyes filled with panic and confusion. He tried to concentrate his spiritual power to relieve the pain, but every time he mobilized his spiritual power, his left shoulder felt like it was being stabbed by thousands of steel needles, the pain almost making him faint.

Uncle Lingji struggled to his feet, his left hand tightly clutching his aching shoulder, his knuckles turning white from the effort. His breathing was rapid and heavy, each breath accompanied by excruciating pain.

"What happened..." Uncle Lingji gritted his teeth, squeezing out a few words, veins bulging on his forehead, and large beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks. He struggled to get up, but his legs gave way, and he fell heavily to the ground with a "thud," rolling around in pain.

The spies, hidden in the shadows of the mansion, witnessed the entire scene. Seeing that Uncle Lingji was in so much pain that he was powerless to resist, they dared not delay and quietly left the scene, rushing towards where Ling Huan was.

Within a quarter of an hour, the scout reappeared in Ling Huan's study. "Your Highness!" His voice trembled with excitement, "Uncle Lingji, for some reason, suddenly rolled on the ground in pain. He looked extremely distressed."

Ling Huan jumped to his feet, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes. "Are you sure it's him? You're not mistaken?"

"It's absolutely true, I saw it with my own eyes," the scout assured him confidently.

Ling Huan nodded in satisfaction. "Good, well done. Continue to keep watch, and report back immediately if there are any further developments."

After the scout left, Ling Huan's face revealed a look of certainty. "Ling Ji, you've finally met your match," he murmured to himself. "This is just the beginning."

At this moment, the night sky over the imperial city remains tranquil, but beneath the calm surface, a bloody storm is quietly brewing.