Chapter Forty-Two: The Most Malignant Corpse-Control Curse (Part One)

How could I possibly believe just a few photographs? I replied calmly, “You’re not expecting me to trust you based on these photos alone, are you? With today’s Photoshop technology, anything can be doctored, no matter what it is.” With that, I turned to leave.

Just as I was about to walk out, Zhou Luotong’s raspy voice sounded behind me, “I knew you’d say that. Come with me.” He picked up the black cat and tapped the wall three times. To my astonishment, a large door opened in the wall, and right before my eyes, the black cat transformed into a wand crowned with blue flames.

Holding the wand, Zhou Luotong strode into the pitch-black doorway. Watching his silhouette, I felt as though I was peering into the mouth of hell. But for the sake of saving Old Ma, I gritted my teeth and followed him in. In the darkness, all I could see was the blue fire; strangely, even my corpse-seer’s eyes couldn’t penetrate the blackness of this realm.

It wasn’t until I reached a place filled with light that I saw a gigantic transparent glass jar. Inside, revolting venomous creatures writhed ceaselessly. Old Ma lay motionless atop the wriggling mass in the jar’s highest point. I pounded the glass, but even my special abilities couldn’t break it.

If I couldn’t shatter the jar, I couldn’t save Old Ma. So I had no choice but to agree to Zhou Luotong’s demand to retrieve his fifty years of lost lifespan.

Of course, I wasn’t so foolish as to act alone. As soon as I reached Uncle Mao’s place, I recounted everything that had happened in detail. Uncle Mao listened gravely, stroking his handlebar mustache, and said, “If things are as you describe, then that earlier Zhou Runfa must be his younger brother. He probably possesses the ‘Three Pure Words of the Curse,’ and since Zhou Luotong developed the ‘War God Curse,’ his brother can surely awaken the ‘Three Pure Words of the Curse.’ In that case, we can use Zhou Runfa against Zhou Luotong!” Uncle Mao chuckled slyly after speaking.

Watching this old fox, I felt compelled to wipe sweat from Zhou Runfa’s brow. I asked Uncle Mao if Zhou Runfa was still here. Uncle Mao said he was, and that he’d be staying for several years.

I wondered why Zhou Runfa would linger here for so long. When I pressed Uncle Mao, I learned that Zhou Runfa wished to study the Maoshan arts and had already sought apprenticeship for some time, but Uncle Mao had no desire to take on new disciples and so never agreed.

Just then, Zhou Runfa emerged from Uncle Mao’s cottage, walking toward us and saying, “So Xiaodong is here too!” He reached out to shake my hand.

Years as a professor had certainly transformed him. Zhou Runfa was nothing like the fisherman’s boy from three centuries ago; now, his every gesture followed a personal code of etiquette.

When I told Zhou Runfa that his brother was still in this world, I sensed a tremor run through him. He regained his composure and said, “So you know about this. Does that mean you’ve met him? As far as I’m aware, only he and I know these things. Anyone else would have to be personally invited by him.”

I nodded. Since Zhou Runfa was sharp enough to grasp the situation, I spoke plainly and told him about the ‘Three Pure Words of the Curse,’ explaining that everything was for the sake of saving a life.

Uncle Mao and I had assumed Zhou Runfa hadn’t yet awakened the ‘Three Pure Words of the Curse,’ but his next words stunned us.

Zhou Runfa looked up sorrowfully, saying, “I thought that when my brother and I parted, he wouldn’t awaken the curse within him. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left him. My departure led to what he’s become. In the ‘Three Pure Words of the Curse,’ I once read a brief mention of the ‘War God Curse.’ The two are opposites. He chose ugliness, I chose beauty. Our father vanished—we don’t know if he lives or died—but I’ve felt his presence near me, though I can never grasp it. I sense he keeps telling me: when extremes are met, extremity begets a demon.”

Having finished, Zhou Runfa lowered his head and added, “If you need my help, just say the word.”

That was precisely the response Uncle Mao had been waiting for. His crafty smile spread across his face, and he sidled up to Zhou Runfa, grinning.

Uncle Mao said, “Little Fa, we really need your expertise here. You see, the curse and Xiaodong’s corpse clan are natural enemies, and these old bones of mine aren’t fit for confrontation. My apprentice Wang Sheng, as you know, is nothing but a useless fool. Only you three—father and sons—have inherited the ancient curse. Now your brother is ready to sacrifice you, his own kin, as an offering. If you don’t step forward, he may reach out to harm others, even more innocent people.”

I wiped sweat from my brow, silently admiring the old man—he’d managed to coax Zhou Runfa so smoothly.

Zhou Runfa nodded, “Very well. If I can use this chance to persuade my brother back onto the right path, it will be worthwhile. Let’s act tonight. As for dismantling some of his barriers, I have certain skills.”

Hearing he could break Zhou Luotong’s wards, Uncle Mao and I immediately found ourselves united, nodding enthusiastically, “Excellent! Excellent! Excellent!”

We made plans to act that night. Wang Sheng was assigned to be the vanguard, dispatched by Uncle Mao as cannon fodder—before nightfall, he disguised himself as a worker and slipped into the factory.

I didn’t return to the academy. Instead, I stayed with Uncle Mao the entire day, waiting until dusk when our mission began.

Wang Sheng, posing as a worker, attempted to approach the target, but the plan was vague. When he neared the office, he was turned away by someone who declared the factory’s restricted area was off-limits to strangers.

It was our turn. Carrying the wine jar containing Zhou Luotong’s fifty years of lifespan, we sneaked into the factory he’d built, heading toward the forbidden zone. Not far in, we saw Wang Sheng trudging back in disappointment. Aside from Wang Sheng, masquerading as a temp, we found no other soul in the entire factory, which puzzled us.

But the darkness here was impenetrable, and I sensed a heavy aura of death, much thicker than before. Its cause eluded me.

We edged closer to the office. The four of us stood before its door, facing a man clad in black who repeated the same phrase, “Restricted area—no strangers allowed...!”

Then Uncle Mao chanted, “Heaven and earth boundless, sun and moon suspended, Grand Lord of the Supreme, act with urgency!” He cast a talisman, which struck the black-clad man, erupting in a shower of sparks. As the sparks faded, the man collapsed and decomposed, filling the air with a revolting stench.

The talisman’s effect proved the black-clad figure was a ghostly entity; attacked by a yang charm, his yin energy was dispelled, revealing his true form—a corpse long rotted.

Upon seeing the corpse, Uncle Mao cried in alarm, “Damn it, we’ve walked right into an ambush!”