Chapter Nine: The Battle of Fengdu (Part One)

The moment Qin Shi Huang was mentioned, Old Xie and the Seven-Infant Ghost King immediately put on stern faces. Old Ma and Uncle Mao, sensing the tense atmosphere, quickly tried to smooth things over, raising their glasses to toast these two venerable elders who had lived thousands of years longer than themselves. At that time, I wanted to curse aloud: "Damn it, what's wrong with mentioning Qin Shi Huang? Is this really necessary? If I revealed my true form, you’d all be bowing down in no time, hmph." Still, I managed to hold my tongue.

Old Xie glanced at me and said, "You must be a new disciple. For Little Ma and Little Mao to value you so highly, you must be quite the talent. Since you’re new, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you." With that, Old Xie launched into his tale.

"Over two thousand years ago, on the eve of Emperor Qin’s death, Old Fan and I went to prepare to fetch the soul of this heartless tyrant. You must understand, every king is attended by the Star Lord Ziyang. In the presence of such divinity, ghosts and monsters are as insignificant as dust. All Old Fan and I could do was wait at Ziyang’s side, biding our time for the emperor’s passing." Old Xie paused for a sip of wine before continuing.

"Who could have foreseen it? Qin Shi Huang once sent a man to seek the elixir of immortality across the world. The day before the emperor’s death, that man returned—Xu Fu. The so-called elixir he brought would actually turn Qin Shi Huang into a demon corpse. The poor emperor, after becoming a zombie, fled to who-knows-where for fear of assassination by the southern Mao and northern Ma disciples. What should have been an easy task suddenly became a disaster. Xu Fu transformed Emperor Ying Zheng into a demon corpse beyond the reach of the Eighteen Hells. That was the first time Old Fan and I failed. When we returned, the King of Hell docked us a century’s wages. Thinking back on it still makes my blood boil." With that, Old Xie drained an entire bottle of mortal Five Grain Liquor.

I was smugly entertained at the thought—a dignified Black and White Wuchang failing their soul-fetching duties and having a few centuries’ pay docked by the King of Hell. Centuries! That must amount to more than tens of billions. No wonder Old Xie was so angry.

Our meal stretched on until the world turned dark—well, the underworld is perpetually dim, after all. We must have eaten for over an hour, but since there’s no day or night here, time is meaningless. Once everyone was sated, the Seven-Infant Ghost King called for a few newly burned Ferraris to drive us part of the way. Though I’m from the countryside, university had made me pick up some airs, so I responded with three quick "goods": "Good, good, good!" In the living world, I couldn’t afford to buy or ride in a Ferrari, but here in the underworld, I was determined to enjoy it.

The Seven-Infant Ghost King was truly generous. He insisted I drive one myself, summoning the paper driver from the car. I thought to myself, "Isn’t this the same paper driver from the mortal world? Here in the underworld, he looks almost human, except for one thing—he’s got no brains. The moment he leaves the car, he turns into a dullard."

The ride was incredibly comfortable; driving felt almost like flying. Underworld cars really are faster than those in the living world. In no time, we arrived at Mount Fengdu. The main force arrived soon after. Given that zombies are extremely sensitive to vengeful spirits, we didn’t ask the Seven-Infant Ghost King to come further. It was a pity about those Ferraris, though; if I ever get the chance, I’ll take these limited editions for a proper spin around the underworld.

We gathered at the former site of the seal. Uncle Mao discovered that many graves had already been broken open, a sign that the seal had greatly weakened.

The sealed ground lay atop a high mountain in the Fengdu Range. Here was the formation core that covered the Hundred Thousand Peaks of Fengdu. Daoist patriarchs of generations past had laid the seal in this very place. Jade pillars inscribed with cryptic incantations stood battered by time. The jade-paved floor lent the site a unique air, and in the center stood a small house, its walls plastered with talismans. Years of exposure had drained the talismans of their power.

I thought to myself, "Building something like a tiny earth temple on less than two hundred square meters of mountaintop—does that really make for an advanced formation?"

Old Ma, Uncle Mao, and some of the senior disciples gathered to discuss how to arrange the formation. Since I understood nothing of such matters, I wandered off, spotting Old Xie and his five thousand underworld officers stationed around the seal.

From the summit, I saw shapes moving through the gloomy forests, heading our way. Peering with my zombie eyes, I was startled: "Goodness, I’d estimate there are tens of thousands of low-level zombies in these Hundred Thousand Peaks. The mid- and high-level ones haven’t even appeared yet."

Old Xie’s troops soon clashed with these traditional low-level zombies—five thousand underworld officers against fifty thousand zombies. Luckily, the underworld officers were no pushovers. Their ghostly blades sliced through the toughest zombies, ripping the souls from their bodies.

Five thousand officers against fifty thousand zombies—after this battle, Old Xie’s reputation would surely grow tenfold among the ghosts of the underworld. Though they lost more than five hundred men, the officers managed to annihilate the zombie horde.

Who doesn’t value their own life? Underworld officers are no exception. Humans may become ghosts after death, but when a ghost dies, it’s true oblivion—their souls scattered to the winds.

Atop the mountain, Old Ma, Uncle Mao, and the disciples began to arrange the formation, replacing old components with new ones. Everything was ready except for one final spark. Five hundred disciples closed their eyes in unison and began to chant, clearly to reactivate the formation core. I didn’t know how long it would take—only that more powerful zombies were drawing near through the black forests.

The mountains of Fengdu stretch endlessly, with ancient forests rustling as zombies moved within. Soon, thousands of mid-level zombies emerged. Unlike the lower ranks, these mid-level zombies were more cunning and their bodies far tougher.

I knew at once the underworld officers were no match for them, and I was right. The officers were routed in the first wave; their fighting strength was simply not on the same level. Hundreds of zombies breached the first defensive line and quickly reached the mountainside, clashing with the five hundred disciples of the Ma family. At that moment, the saying rang true: "Life and death revolve; the five elements restrain each other." Daoists are natural foes of evil spirits and monsters. Yellow talismans flew, pinning zombies in place. Thankfully, they’d brought enough talismans—otherwise, we’d have been doomed.

Of the thousands of mid-level zombies that broke through Old Xie’s lines, only a few hundred remained, and they didn’t even reach the summit before being destroyed.

Seeing this, I thought, "There’s no way the Hundred Thousand Peaks hold only a few thousand zombies. Some high-level zombies sealed for millennia must be straining to break free. Some may have already escaped. These low-level zombies are just a fraction brought in later by fraudulent feng shui masters." The thought filled me with concern for Old Ma and the others, especially since they’d forbidden me from revealing my true identity.

Sure enough, a hundred fearsome zombie auras—each brimming with kingly power—began to spread from the black forest. The crunch of leaves and the heavy thuds of their steps put every underworld officer and disciple of the Southern Mao and Northern Ma sects on edge.

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