Chapter Forty-Three: The Vile Corpse-Control Curse (Part Two)

Uncle Mao originally hadn't intended to make a move, but he too sensed that something was wrong. He hastily formed Daoist hand seals and said to me, Zhou Runfa, and Wang Sheng, "Be ready. Whatever you see next, no matter what it is, you must keep control of yourselves."

With that, he pointed at Zhou Runfa and said, "Begin!"

Fortunately, Zhou Runfa understood Uncle Mao's intent—the gesture meant he should prepare his incantation for whatever might appear. Zhou Runfa pressed his right index finger to his forehead and muttered an incomprehensible spell in the ancient language of the Three Pure Ones. As soon as he finished, a star chart about five or six meters in diameter shimmered around us, only to vanish into the earth.

Zhou Runfa nodded at Uncle Mao, indicating that everything was ready. Uncle Mao then arranged the Tai Chi formation, which perfectly mirrored Zhou Runfa's star chart—one representing heaven, the other earth. When all was in place, Uncle Mao shouted, "Open!"

With that cry, a white mist swirled around us, accompanied by low wailing sounds. Suddenly, the Tai Chi formation and the star chart erupted in golden and violet light that fused together, forming a solid protective barrier.

We waited for about ten minutes. The sinister fog dissipated, only to be replaced by a stench so overwhelming it brought tears to my eyes, as well as to Zhou Runfa and Wang Sheng. Only Uncle Mao stood there, unmoved—perhaps out of pride, he refused to show any discomfort.

Looking past the Tai Chi and star chart shield, I saw the space outside was packed with rotting corpses, their flesh crawling with maggots. My stomach churned at the sight; I nearly vomited.

So this was the source of the deathly aura that had pervaded the factory—these tattered, black-fluid-dripping corpses. Thankfully, we had the Tai Chi and star chart formations; otherwise, I had no idea how we would have fought them.

The corpses seemed to be under some kind of control, furiously pounding on the shield. At this, Uncle Mao spoke.

"I'm going to withdraw the formation," he said. "When I do, everyone will have to fight on their own. These corpses are nothing but rotten flesh—their power is only in their foulness. Don't be afraid, and don't let them defeat you mentally!" With that, Old Ma shouted, "Withdraw!" and the Tai Chi formation vanished.

Only the star chart shield remained, blocking the advancing dead, while Uncle Mao had already burst out, one hand forming a sword gesture, the other wielding a talisman as he darted among the corpses.

We couldn't let Uncle Mao face hundreds of corpses alone. I turned to Zhou Runfa and said, "Take down the star chart—we'll each fight our own battle. You and Wang Sheng stick together; I'll go ahead!" As soon as I finished, I shifted into the first state of my demon corpse form and charged out.

Zhou Runfa gritted his teeth, dismissed the star chart, and pulled Wang Sheng into the fray.

With each strike, Uncle Mao reduced a corpse to a pile of foul-smelling black sludge, lying on the ground like dung.

As for me, being the Golden Corpse King of the demon corpse clan, my strength was formidable. If corpses formed a pyramid, I would stand at the very top, while these rotting corpses wouldn't even qualify for the bottom tier. Swinging my supernatural fists, I dispatched them one by one. The sensation of touching their flesh was revolting—sticky, cold, colder than ice, truly the bodies of the yin.

Zhou Runfa and Wang Sheng, meanwhile, were flustered, soon drenched in the putrid fluids of the dead.

Wang Sheng wielded a coin sword, grimacing as he bit his finger and smeared blood on the blade. Miraculously, the sword immediately fell apart, scattering hundreds of coins and leaving Wang Sheng dumbfounded. Seeing this, he shouted at Uncle Mao, "Master, where did you buy this coin sword? The quality is terrible!" Then, pulling a fistful of talismans from his pocket, he charged into the fray, each talisman incinerating a corpse. Gradually, the number of walking dead began to thin.

Zhou Runfa, who had mastered the power of incantation, imbued every word with force. His voice rang out like a bell among the corpses, reaping death like a scythe in the hands of a reaper.

After half an hour, the area was cleared, leaving only patches of black dust on the ground, not yet carried away by the wind.

At that moment, the world seemed to shift—the darkness deepened until nothing could be seen. Only Zhou Runfa continued to chant, "Darkness is shadow, shadow is light; when the bright moon smiles upon the sky, spirits and ghosts dare not disturb!"

As soon as the incantation left his lips, the sky brightened, though the scene was even more bizarre than before.

It was now blindingly white. Puzzled, I asked Zhou Runfa, "What's going on?"

He answered gravely to Uncle Mao, Wang Sheng, and me, "My brother is cunning beyond measure. He has lured us into another dimension!"

I was stunned. Having just survived encounters with ghosts and gods, now we were facing another dimension? Could there really be other planes of existence in this world—realms ruled by a single being, devoid of any other life?

While I was lost in thought, Uncle Mao suddenly cried out in shock, "This is the Corpse Control Spell! There is a record of this in Daoist tradition. The eighteenth Celestial Master Zhang once encountered it, but the method for breaking the spell was lost long ago!"

Just as he finished speaking, a black figure appeared inexplicably in the sea of white—it was none other than Zhou Luotong.

The black cat I had seen before still floated quietly by his side, its pale blue eyes flickering like ghostly flames.

Zhou Luotong hovered in the air, looking down on us as if he were a god. He let out a few peals of laughter and said, "Impressive. Celestial Master Zhang once broke this spell, but I don't believe his descendants still possess such power." With that, he lowered his head and began to chant. Characters floated around him, and the black cat transformed into the magical staff we had seen earlier.

Glyphs sank into the blinding whiteness below. As each character landed, the earth turned a deep, ominous purple, and mounds like graves began to rise from the blackened ground, splitting open to reveal yawning pits—something was about to emerge.

Zhou Runfa and Uncle Mao frowned and spoke in unison, "Zhou Luotong, you are truly cruel to disturb the remains of our ancestors!" Zhou Runfa added, "Once I respected you as my elder brother. Now that our father is gone, you would sacrifice me for your own gain, even at the cost of fifty years of your life. This debt, I will see repaid." As he finished, he raised the little wine jar from Wang Sheng’s backpack.

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