Yang Xiao: "!!!"
A chill rushed up from his feet, nearly shattering his crown, leaving him numb. This time it was a genuine numbness; his hands and feet were icy cold, and it felt as though his veins were filled with frost.
Terrible images materialized in his mind, as today he had actually carried the costume to the temple and the Daoist monastery.
Yang Xiao resigned to his fate, realizing just how malevolent this object was, and it was clear that it had latched onto him.
He took the costume out of his backpack and laid it flat on the bed. The moment his fingers touched it, there was an indescribable chill, yet the costume itself wasn't damp at all. It didn't look like it had been stripped from a Drowned Ghost; instead, the golden threads and the pearl decorations were quite exquisite.
Apart from the inherent horror it elicited, the costume in and of itself could indeed be considered a fine piece of craftsmanship.