Corpse Recovery Diver-Chapter 1222 - 221

This island is quite remote, with few islanders and a very small village. Additionally, since migration and resettlement occurred only last year, you only see some people during the busy fishing season each year.

In the center of the village, there is a store still hanging the sign of a cooperative store. Inside, the space is large, but it is underutilized, with only some rice, flour, grains, and oil placed near the entrance. As for the items on the shelves, they have accumulated dust and many have probably expired.

An old grandma sits inside, quietly knitting a sweater.

Tan Wenbin walks up the steps and approaches the counter.

"Grandma, I'd like to make a call."

The grandma stops her knitting; the long wooden knitting needle gently grazes her temple.

After a long time, as if coming back to her senses, she gets up and slowly walks over, taking out the phone locked in a box at the counter and placing it on the counter.

"Go ahead and call."

Tan Wenbin picks up the handset, ready to dial, but finds there's no sound from the handset.

"Grandma, is there something wrong with the phone?"

The grandma furrows her brows, checks along the phone line, and says, "It's not broken; it should be a problem with the line somewhere."

The phone couldn't be used.

Tan Wenbin takes out a cigarette pack and offers the grandma a cigarette.

The grandma skillfully takes the cigarette, bites it between her lips, and expertly pulls out a matchbox. With a strike of the match, she lights hers first, then extends the match to Tan Wenbin. He quickly lowers his head to light his cigarette, at which point the grandma tosses the nearly burning match down, extinguishing it before it burns her fingers.

The old and young pair lean against the counter, puffing clouds of smoke.

The grandma: "Heard on the radio, a storm is coming; aren't you leaving the island?"

Tan Wenbin: "I quite like it here, the scenery is nice, it's quiet, perfect for healing wounds of the heart."

"Young people should broaden their perspectives; life is long, no need to dwell too long on such matters of love."

"I know, but I'm still young, aren't I?"

Traveling outside, identity is self-defined.

Tan Wenbin has a natural knack for fabricating relationships; during his time in the dormitory, the dorm aunt treated him like a foster son, even if he skipped many classes, his regular teachers always awarded him full marks.

Because of this, Tan Wenbin can sense there's something off with the grandma.

He can't pinpoint exactly what the issue is, as he hasn't detected any anomaly on the grandma herself. Additionally, the certificates stuck on the cooperative store's wall and the old photos the grandma once showed him all indicate she's spent most of her life on this island, guarding this cooperative store.

But when communicating with her, Tan Wenbin can sense a hint of cleverness and transparency inadvertently emanating from the grandma.

On this island, there are two other individuals giving Tan Wenbin the same feeling.

One is the old man at the lighthouse; his expression is wooden and apathetic, yet sometimes, there's a depth in the way he looks out to the sea.

The other is a captain frequently traveling back and forth between this island; he's very familiar with this area and will also charge a fee to take islanders to Heartless Island.

These three people share a common feature, an attribute exceeding their work and living environment.

Though they always hide it, whenever Tan Wenbin approaches them with "stereotypical impressions," he senses a discrepancy.

"I'm leaving."

Tan Wenbin waves his hand and turns to walk down the steps; whether the phone call goes through, the result is the same. After all, it's the third day now, and Brother Xiao Yuan surely knows something's happening on the island.

The grandma takes down the phone, locks it back into the wooden box, then sits back down and picks up her knitting needle.

She hasn't knitted more than a couple of stitches when the wind starts to blow outside, followed by rainfall.

The grandma steps out of the counter, grabs a long pole, hooks the curtain, and starts to pull it down.

She's halfway through when thunder starts.

The grandma leans out, looking through the night.

The curtain is half-down; she, however, sets aside the pole, walks back inside the counter, crouches down, lifts a floor tile, revealing a recess underneath.

In the recess, there's a black statue, in front of which stands an incense burner. Instead of incense ashes, it holds a rat with only half its body remaining; inside is a mix of blood and corpse water, its tail still unconsciously swaying.

The grandma kneels before the statue, palms together, burying her head deeply, forehead touching the ground.

Gradually, the grandma's body starts to tremble, emitting the friction and crisp sound of joints.

When the grandma raises her head again, her eyes are filled with violet.

She stands upright, her originally hunched figure now straight.

With each flicker of lightning, the bulb in the cooperative store dimmed, the grandma's figure shifts positions whenever the light returns.

First, she appears outside the counter, then the next moment at the entrance. She picks up the long pole, her wrinkled fingers exerting force, breaking the pole to reveal a long spear.

The spearhead is ancient, yet at its tail is embedded a black skull.

In the next boom of thunder, the grandma's figure vanishes completely.

Under the eaves of an uninhabited distant house, Tan Wenbin's form emerges; the half-smoked cigarette long pinched between his fingers.

Ideally, he should have left, only the rain came so fast, trapping him here.

Then, by some instinct, he hid away, concealed his form, watching the direction of the cooperative store.

Just in time to witness the grandma undergo what seemed like a transformation as she left the store.

Brother Xiao Yuan's "Chasing Faraway Secret Scroll" records every experience and summary of the storm; Tan Wenbin himself has been through it. Sometimes actions seem unconscious, yet it's instinctively driven.