Chapter Ten: The Battle of Fengdu (Part Two)

Calling these traditional zombies “advanced” is almost an insult; honestly, it’s more accurate to call them the living dead. Aside from being a little stronger than mid-level zombies, I can’t see what sets them apart. Compared to the descendants of the demon corpse general Jiang Chen, I’d wager that even a third-generation zombie from his line could wipe these so-called advanced zombies out single-handedly.

Of course, that’s just my opinion as a Golden Corpse King; people like Old Ma and Uncle Mao, mere mortals of flesh and blood, would never dare think this way. Zombies worship only strength; they care nothing for Taoism or Buddhism. In their eyes, there is only slaughter and bloodlust, and mortals are simply their best source of food.

If Uncle Mao hadn’t forbidden me from revealing my true form, these traditional zombies would’ve been dead long ago.

Counting carefully, there were exactly three hundred advanced zombies. Their faces no longer had that ruddy hue of the lower ranks—clearly, they’d been dead for thousands of years. A suffocating corpse aura spread from them, instantly turning the area around this small hill into a place colder than an ice cellar. The underworld officers weren’t bothered—they’re born with a baleful energy that wards off the chill—but ordinary souls, separated from their bodies, weren’t so lucky. Soon enough, the weaker ones were frozen by the cold and forced to return from the underworld to their bodies in the living world.

None of this baleful energy could harm even a hair on my head. Watching Old Ma and the others shiver, I thought, “If not now, when?” With that, I shrouded the entire mountain with the regal aura of the Golden Corpse King.

I glanced at Old Ma and the rest. They were still chanting incantations, clearly unaware of this kingly presence. New talismans all over the ground were gradually being activated; some already glowed halfway. The advanced zombies hopped to the foot of the hill, obviously sensing a power far greater than their own, and stopped in their tracks.

Watching their dazed forms hopping back and forth below, I thought they must have been blocked by my aura.

That’s how I held out until the final, most crucial day. By then, the talismans were floating in midair, some already embedded in the walls, emitting a faint golden light. Only at the last moment of the seventh day did I withdraw my aura. The instant the last talisman fused into the wall, all the zombies turned to dust and merged with the earth.

Old Xie, who’d been locked in a stalemate with the zombies for two days, stared in shock, tongue seemingly even longer than before. Clearly, he was baffled as to why the zombies had been hopping aimlessly hundreds of meters away instead of attacking. I guessed they hadn’t sensed my presence—since, in the cosmic cycle, each element restrains and nourishes another. Perhaps my aura, sharing the same origin as that of the underworld officers, was undetectable to them.

With everything settled, we prepared to return to the world of the living. I looked longingly at those ten limited-edition Ferraris, reluctant to leave. Old Ma rapped me on the head, saying, “Silly kid, I’ll buy you one when we’re back. Now let’s go!”

I shot him a look of disdain. “Please, you’re still driving that old Volkswagen. Maybe you’ll buy me a paper Ferrari for the afterlife!”

After the disciples had left, I unfurled my wings, scooped up Old Ma and Uncle Mao, and with a flash of golden light, we returned to the living world.

Though it felt like many days had passed in the underworld, the sky was still dark here. Puzzled, I glanced at the moon outside the window.

Old Ma and Uncle Mao’s souls re-entered their bodies, which regained life and motion. Looking around, I saw the disciples were gone—clearly, they’d left after waking up.

Both Old Ma and Uncle Mao were completely drained. I helped them downstairs, put them in the car, shut the doors, and set off for the house.

Though my driving skills were poor, my experience with video game racing made handling Old Ma’s battered Volkswagen manageable. After all, this was the suburbs—no one on the roadside. I floored the gas and sped away from the decrepit building.

Because of my family’s circumstances, I’d never driven a real car before; only once in a while did I feed a few coins to the arcade racers.

But Old Ma’s car wasn’t as easy as the arcades. The car snaked down the road, nearly landing in a ditch several times.

At last, after much swerving, we arrived at the house. I managed to drag the two men inside, and they quickly fell into deep sleep.

Watching them both sprawled out, I almost cursed aloud: “Damn it, you two take up the whole bed—where am I supposed to sleep?” But then I realized how exhausted they were and how little I’d actually done. So I grabbed a pillow, left the house, and curled up in the car.

Lying in Old Ma’s beat-up Volkswagen, I couldn’t help but recall those limited-edition Ferraris from the underworld—how I missed them! This car cramped my long legs so badly I spent the night contorted, and by morning, I felt nearly deformed.

When I opened my eyes, Old Ma was already driving, now in his suit instead of yesterday’s bedsheet. Seeing his commanding presence, I felt an unexpected surge of familial warmth. For a moment, I thought, “How wonderful it would be if he were my father.” But it was just a thought. I sat up and asked where we were headed.

Old Ma replied, “There are classes at the university today. You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t wake you. There’s a box of food from Uncle Mao under your seat—don’t let anyone else drink it, understand?” Then, he brought up yesterday’s events. Only after his explanation did I realize that ten days in the underworld equaled just one in the living world.

I grunted in reply and looked down to see an unopened box beneath my seat. Upon closer inspection, it was packaged like yogurt drinks.

I eyed Old Ma suspiciously. “Are you sure this isn’t for you? Looks like yogurt to me.”

Old Ma, driving, replied, “Uncle Mao improved the contents for you—it’s all the plasma you need. Remember, don’t reveal your identity unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

I groaned inwardly at that last line. Old Ma and Uncle Mao must have told me this a thousand times. If they weren’t tired of repeating it, I certainly was. To humor him, I replied, “I know, Uncle Ma, I know. Please, I beg you, don’t say it again, or I’ll lose my mind.” I slouched back in my seat.

“You kid, don’t make me worry. If you get out of line, I’ll deal with you myself!” Old Ma chuckled, pulled up at the gate, and let me out while he drove into the campus.

So I walked through the campus with a box of yogurt drinks, carefree. Watching couples stroll past, I could only force a bitter smile. “Look at me—poor, plain, not even handsome, just tall. In today’s world, where money talks, there’s no place for a broke guy like me.”

I walked all the way to my dorm, stashed the plasma in my backpack while my roommates were out, zipped it up, and locked it tight. Only when I was sure it was secure did I head to class.

In class, I focused on my studies. Since Old Ma and Uncle Mao wouldn’t let me use my Golden Corpse King identity, I poured myself into my books. My mutation had given me a phenomenal memory—one read and I could recite a book backwards. Once an average student, I soon became top of the class, then top of the school.

I’d long since stopped caring about teachers’ favoritism toward top students, so I kept a low profile. Only a few friends from high school still drank with me. Though alcohol was like water to me now, we still enjoyed ourselves.

During this time, Shuang came to see me a few times. We chatted briefly each time, and the days flew by. In the blink of an eye, sophomore year ended. One day, Shuang invited me to her house to help her study—she said she wanted to work hard for credits and prepare for graduation the following year.

I suspected Old Ma had put her up to it and wondered what he was up to now.

I didn’t dwell on it. Being immortal now, I hailed a cab and headed to Shuang’s place. Soon, I was standing at the entrance to Old Ma’s neighborhood.

...

(Three chapters today—dear readers, your continued support means everything...)