Black lines were crawling across her face, as if her entire face had cracked open.

I was extremely afraid and instinctively tried to grab the empty bottle from my brother's hand. There was still oil hanging on the bottle's surface.

My brother raised his hand high and threw the bottle out the door.

Not only that, but he also tightly held onto my hand, not giving me a chance to escape.

My sister giggled and said, "Sister, why aren't you running?"

She slowly moved her leg, inching closer to me. Her pale green eyes narrowed into slits, staring at my captured hand.

She could see someone grabbing me, so she wasn't in a hurry.

I tried to poke my brother's eyes with my hand. He instinctively tried to block, and I took the opportunity to run.

Two hands grabbed my ankles, and I felt a slight chill from the delicate one before it quickly let go.

My brother slammed me heavily onto the ground, and every organ in my body ached.

While I curled up on the ground groaning, my sister stood a couple of steps away from me.

And now, she took a few steps back, as if watching a show.

I understood.

The shaman had said, "Evil spirits are jealous, narrow-minded, and love to see others suffer."

Before she died, my sister had choked me and asked, "Why wasn't it you?"

She had always resented me, resenting that I didn't suffer like her, which is why she wanted to kill me.

My brother had never been restrained. He had a strange temper, and I knew how to provoke him.

Lying on the ground, I watched my brother, who towered above me, laughing.

I called him, "Fat pig."

Fire blazed in my brother's eyes, and he ruthlessly stomped on the femur of my right thigh.

With a "crack," my leg broke, and the bone protruded, even more miserable than my sister's appearance back then.

I couldn't help but scream in pain. My sister watched by the side, tears of blood flowing, her mouth curled back.

She was delighted, delighted to see me tortured, delighted to see me suffer.

I guessed it right.

My brother had a big belly and wasn't good at bending over, so he could only kick me one by one.

I endured the pain and tightly grabbed his pants, tearing with all my strength.

The clothes my mother sewed for him were ruined, exposing both of his legs.

His skin, without oil, would be seen by my sister.

My sister chuckled, and her blood-red hand reached out.

"I found you."

My brother's legs were instantly torn off. His obese body crashed to the ground, and I quickly rolled away to avoid him.

His upper body lay on the ground, gasping heavily. But because his face was still smeared with oil, my sister couldn't find him.

I secretly reached into the hole in the ground, took out the oil I had hidden, and quickly smeared it on my face. Then, using that intact leg, I ruthlessly kicked my brother's face, rubbing it fiercely.

I used all my strength in that strike, leaving a long scar on his face.

Furious, he grabbed me with his hand and said, "You wretched person..."

My sister saw him.

He had no chance.

My sister put his upper body on the bed, just as my brother had done to her in the past.

My brother was still alive at this moment, glaring at me with malice. I dragged my broken leg, covered in injuries, and glared back at him fiercely.

He suddenly laughed, "The next one will be you."

"You will definitely die before me."

My sister wandered around the room, strangely shouting, "Little sister, why did you hide again?"

This was the first time I saw an expression of disbelief on my brother's detestable face.