Chapter Forty-Four: The Heinous Corpse-Control Curse (Part Two)

I saw the look in Zhou Luotong’s eyes as he gazed at that jar—it was filled with greed.

The moment Zhou Luotong spotted the wine jar, he immediately waved his wand, pulling Old Ma’s body into the scene from a blank patch, then extended his grotesque, misshapen fingers to point at the backpack on Wang Sheng’s back.

But almost at once, he turned his finger toward Zhou Runfa and said, “Now I want more than just the jar. I want your life as well. I must collect all three volumes of the Curse Incantations, so that all insignificant humans may become like me.”

I hadn’t expected Zhou Runfa’s appearance to awaken another side of Zhou Luotong. The sensation he gave me now was utterly different from before, as if he were no longer the same person.

At that moment, Uncle Mao spoke up: “He’s become a demon!”

Uncle Mao said Zhou Luotong had turned into a demon. I didn’t understand it, nor did Wang Sheng, nor even Zhou Runfa. Those who had taught themselves the incantations only understood a little of their power and a few trivial facts, not their true essence.

To figure it out, I asked Uncle Mao, “He was fine that day—how did he become a demon now?”

Uncle Mao looked at me and said, “Xiaodong, in ancient times, before the Daoists, the Curse Clan was unimaginably powerful. They maintained a mutual relationship with the imperial court, but their actions brought suffering to the people. Over time, the grievances and blood of their victims gathered and grew in power. Defiant of heaven and earth, these vengeful souls began to slaughter the Curse Clan’s successors, vowing to exterminate the Curse Incantations and bring peace to the world.”

Uncle Mao paused, then continued: “But how could the Curse Clan bow to these vengeful souls? At that time, there were thirty-six high elders among them. They joined forces, sealing the souls within a book named ‘The Demon-Sealing Scripture.’ This book was considered a demonic tome and stored forever in the Demon Palace, forbidden to all disciples. After sealing the souls, the thirty-six elders passed away. Millennia have passed since then, and now—unbelievably—we have encountered it ourselves!”

After hearing Uncle Mao’s explanation, I couldn’t help but lament Zhou Luotong’s wretched fate. He had ended up practicing the forbidden text, ‘The Summoning Scripture’ of the Curse Clan. But why did he tell me he was practicing the ‘Curse War God Incantation’? I voiced this question to Uncle Mao.

Uncle Mao just shook his head, but Zhou Runfa spoke: “Uncle Mao is right. The book my brother studied was indeed called ‘The Summoning Scripture.’ As for me and my father, we studied ‘The Three Pure Ones Curse Language’ and ‘The Curse of All Beings.’”

Glancing again at Zhou Luotong, who stood motionless ten meters away, five meters above the ground, his voice echoed hollow and empty: “That’s right. I am the demon book, the gathering of all souls, hating every successor of the Curse Clan, hating the imperial family, and resenting the heavens for their injustice. I will destroy all living beings. More importantly, I will use the blood of the Curse Clan’s heirs to open the path of reincarnation for all those souls they slaughtered. The time is near, for you and your father are the last two heirs.”

As the demon finished speaking, he swept his huge hand, and the ground beneath us began to shift once more.

After hearing Zhou Luotong’s words, I felt I had come not only to return fifty years of life to him in vain, but that my own immortal body might perish here as well.

The earth split into countless cracks. Zhou Luotong’s body was also splitting apart, and a hideous creature seemed about to burst from within him. Pale hands reached out from the fissures in the ground, everywhere I looked, countless and unending. The unknown being inside Zhou Luotong had already forced half its body out of his flesh, its gaping maw bristling with fangs as it roared: “Vengeful souls who have slept a thousand years, your day of reincarnation is near! Let all heirs of the Curse Clan be sent to hell—I will offer their blood as sacrifice for you!”

Zhou Runfa, seeing that the figure before him was no longer his brother, challenged the demon emerging from Zhou Luotong’s body without hesitation: “You demon seed! So you’ve been hiding in my brother’s body all these years, waiting for your chance? Let’s see if I can’t destroy you!” As he finished, a violet brilliance burst from his body. A star map unfolded beneath his feet, and he soared toward the demon, riding the celestial chart.

This space was unique—abilities invisible in the outside world were crystal clear here, and the star chart was especially dazzling, radiating an overwhelming power.

Zhou Runfa and the demon clashed instantly. Only then did I understand what true epic battle meant—a violet and a blue beam of light collided in a struggle that far surpassed any movie, supernatural powers flashing back and forth like special effects.

I shifted into my full form, my great wings fanning as I hovered in the air. To my astonishment, the golden runes on my wings counteracted the demon’s dark curses, and for a time, the mounds on the ground ceased increasing.

When the mounds broke open, hordes of traditional zombies clawed their way out, charging at Uncle Mao and Wang Sheng. As living men, they radiated the vital blood energy the zombies craved.

But there must have been thousands of zombies. If they surrounded Uncle Mao and Wang Sheng, escape would be impossible. Even the most powerful Daoist heir, Master Zhang, could not survive such a situation. So, with a sweep of my bat wings, laced with a faint golden power, I flew toward Uncle Mao and Wang Sheng.

Meanwhile, Uncle Mao and Wang Sheng each gripped a stack of talisman papers, their faces grave as they confronted the snarling zombie horde.

Uncle Mao took from his pack the steel sword left by the Daoist Patriarch, pointed it at the sky, and shouted: “Let the spirit of the eighteenth-generation Master Zhang descend, to redeem these wronged souls!” As he spoke, a golden light pierced the space and entered Uncle Mao’s body. Laughing wildly, he roared at the heavens: “Didn’t expect our Daoist clan could channel the spirits, did you? Today will be the day this demon falls, so it may never harm the world again!”

Now possessed by Master Zhang, Uncle Mao stood calmly among the zombies, gripping his sword tightly as he recited: “Heaven and earth in five phases, six realms of evil spirits, eight trigrams and the great Taiji, all converge—by my command, begone!”

At these words, I paused in midair, watching as the possessed Uncle Mao delivered a strike that shook the heavens.

Strangely, this blow was not aimed at the zombies, but directly at the ground, leaving a trail of utter blackness in its wake.

A pitch-black door appeared, stark against the pale expanse of the world. Three large characters above it proclaimed its name: “The Gate of Six Paths.”

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