Chapter Forty-Four: The Green-Haired Zombie

The mass of corpses at the burial ground, drawn by the sinister black aura, surged in attack against the group. Though their numbers were vast, forming mountains and seas of bodies, there was an air of borrowed menace, lacking true ferocity. The reason was plain: these corpses, weathered by the passage of years, were brittle and dried, their movements stiff and slow. For all their multitude, they posed little threat at first.

Yet the tides slowly turned in favor of the corpse sea. Despite their many flaws, the dead suffered no exhaustion as mortals do, and felt no pain. Gradually, they gained the upper hand. Even the four "immortal masters" stationed at the four corners of the Pear Blossom formation were gasping for breath, their meager magical power nearly spent.

Seizing the moment as the group's strength waned, the corpse sea suddenly parted at four points. From within emerged four black zombies, towering and robust, wreathed in dark aura, their every movement radiating a formidable presence.

"Could these be the four elite corpses painstakingly refined by the black aura, to facilitate its possession? And now the black aura has gained sentience—it even knows how to plot?" Zhou Qian wondered, gripping the Heavenly Escape Mirror tighter.

With the four elite corpses as arrowheads, and hundreds upon hundreds of lesser corpses as the shaft, the situation became perilous for all. The corpse handler from Xiangxi was the first to suffer. In truth, he was the weakest among the four, relying solely on two black zombies he had refined with his family's secret technique. Lacking any true magical essence, his two zombies were seized by the elite corpses, who sent a flash of pure black energy into their bodies—a portion of the black aura's origin, even more bizarre and unfathomable. The handler felt his connection to his zombies severed; they turned against him, tearing him apart, leaving him dead on the spot.

This upheaval affected the other three as well. The drunken monk, distracted, was scratched by an elite corpse, and immediately felt his whole body itch unbearably, his will to fight diminished. He could no longer unleash the full force of the secret Great Tuo Fist from Ci'en Temple. The Great Tuo Fist was a fusion of martial and magical arts, a variant path for those unable to master higher Daoist magic. The monk usually relied on it for a life of indulgence, but lacked the experience and spirit of a seasoned martial artist. He faltered, and the elite corpse seized the opportunity, tearing out his heart and devouring it.

The Pear Blossom formation had been devised by a female general from a dynasty predating the Hu people's migration to the central plains, with its foundation anchored in four formation nodes. Two nodes had now been broken, half the formation shattered. The villagers of Yang Family Village, untrained in battle, panicked—within moments, more than ten perished, most trampled in the chaos.

Just as Zhou Qian was about to act, Master Li gritted his teeth and hurled a thunderball at the four elite corpses. A brilliant flash of lightning bathed the area in dazzling light, accompanied by the stench of burnt flesh. This thunderball was the fruit of decades of cultivation, a divine artifact of the earth-shaking grade, rarely seen even among legendary treasures of the immortal path. Now, it was expended here.

Three of the four elite corpses were reduced to charred husks, their black aura unable to escape, while the fourth, standing farther away, was only slightly damaged.

Master Li exhaled in relief; with just one elite corpse left, he and the sword-wielding Daoist could suppress it together. However, he realized that when the black aura was divided, he would likely get little of its power. Yet, he hoped—

A flash of swordlight swept around his neck, and Master Li felt the world spin. "Why did he strike now? Does he have hidden techniques? Can he alone handle the elite corpse and all these bodies?"

Tong Yuan coldly summoned his flying sword, bloodshot eyes glinting. With a gesture, all the sinister corpses stood motionless, even Zhou Qian was baffled—where had Tong Yuan gained such power?

Tong Yuan released his sword and began to excavate a grave at the center of the burial ground. Soon, he unearthed a coffin, a yard in length and width. Opening it revealed a strange, green-haired ghost child, hands clasped at its chest, eyes opening, glowing red-black.

The ghost child opened its mouth, and hundreds upon hundreds of corpses, including Tong Yuan himself, released streams of black energy, converging upon the child. The dark aura churned and howled, as if about to birth something formidable.

Zhou Qian did not understand how the situation had unfolded so, but he knew the opportunity was rare. He gathered all his remaining magical energy into the Heavenly Escape Mirror, silently reciting an incantation, and directed the mirror's light at the mass of black energy. A beam of golden light swept across the darkness.

Zhou Qian had underestimated the Heavenly Escape Mirror. Even among immortal treasures, there were six ranks: Earthly Evil, Heavenly Gang, Round Perfection, True Form, Divine Transformation, and Pure Yang. Though the mirror could not yet produce immortal energy or manifest spiritual consciousness, it surpassed ninety percent of immortal artifacts. Moreover, it was inscribed with the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths Demon-Banishing Gold Array; its golden light was only its basic function. This golden ray drained Zhou Qian's true energy, scattering the gathered black aura. The ghost child's body shuddered, its eyes dimming.

But the corpse horde erupted in frenzy. Zhou Qian saw the villagers in danger and quickly turned the mirror to open a path with golden light through the corpses. Yang Sanlang recognized Zhou Qian and shouted to the remaining villagers, "Withdraw! Head toward Elder Zhou!"

The golden light was remarkable—corpses struck by it instantly wilted, while ordinary people found it invigorating, their spent strength restored. With this light, the group nearly escaped the corpse horde.

Though the ghost child was weakened, its ferocity remained. It leapt behind the villagers, thrusting its hands into two, draining their vital essence. The child's face grew rosy.

Seeing the peril, Zhou Qian enveloped the child in golden light, but it dodged with astonishing speed, eluding every attempt. Though unable to harm it, Zhou Qian at least prevented it from feasting on the villagers.

The ghost child, cunning, lunged at Zhou Qian, intent on slaughter. Zhou Qian, wielding his sword, guarded himself, hearing the rush of wind and feeling a powerful force strike his blade. His limbs went numb, nearly losing grip. He quickly used the mirror, hearing a faint creak in the air.

Zhou Qian was able to bear about five hundred pounds, moving several yards in a blink, but the child’s strength was five to ten times his own. He had never faced such a formidable foe. Fortunately, the mirror inspired terror in the child, allowing Zhou Qian to barely contend.

He glimpsed the black shadow with his peripheral vision, focusing all his spirit—tenfold, even twelvefold. Any lapse, and his life would be forfeit. In this life-or-death struggle, he felt his mind break through, every move executed with maximum efficiency; otherwise, he could not withstand the child’s monstrous power.

The ghost child, battered by repeated golden light, began to falter, its black aura dissipating, revealing its form. Locked on by the golden ray, it spat a stream of black energy, transforming into a vengeful spirit that lunged at Zhou Qian. Yet Zhou Qian was prepared, blocking it with the human-faced water dragon scale, absorbing a portion of the spirit, then finishing it with the mirror—the spirit dissipated into a wisp of smoke.

Far away, within a mass of black light a thousand miles distant, a muffled groan rang out, swelling with rage and shaking the surrounding space. "Who dares destroy my ghost child?" A vision appeared, showing Zhou Qian’s battle. Instantly, gloomy winds swept the land, black sand and stones whirled, and billowing smoke rushed toward Sanlitun.

Having dispatched the ghost child, Zhou Qian finally breathed easy. The corpse horde, deprived of the black aura, reverted to lifeless bodies. Zhou Qian searched the remains, finding several items: a manual of Great Tuo Fist, a treatise on thunder magic, a stack of immobilization talismans, Tong Yuan’s damaged immortal scripture, and the flying sword.

The Great Tuo Fist was a method combining magic and martial arts, harnessing the body’s power to achieve wondrous feats. For true immortals, it might not be exceptional, but for Zhou Qian, it opened a new door. He skimmed a few pages and put it away. The immobilization talismans had little power; they merely transformed magical energy into bindings for a mortal’s limbs and meridians. The thunder treatise described ways to absorb and refine lightning. The sword he handled carefully, wary of lingering black aura.

The villagers, seeing Zhou Qian vanquish the ghost child, gathered round, praising him lavishly.

A dark cloud swept over Tiandu City, startling the populace into closing doors and windows. It was broad daylight, yet this ominous cloud hovered above the city, paused as if seeking direction, then rolled toward Sanlitun.

Arriving at Sanlitun, the black cloud saw the ghost child’s corpse and grew furious. "Whose junior has slain my ghost grandchild? I laid the convergence array at the burial ground to guard against the disciples of the Seven Great Sects; I deliberately refined only corpses, not blood food, keeping a low profile. Has it drawn attention, or is it merely ill fate?"

He shook his head again. "The Xuan Yin Cave’s Blood Mirror saw the little ghost wielding the Heavenly Escape Mirror—wasn’t that the drunken Daoist’s artifact? Is this his disciple? Though Qingcheng Sect ranks near the bottom of the Seven Sects, it still has deep roots—best not to provoke them. Forget it, I can spare one."

The black aura coiled, taking the ghost child’s corpse, but a golden gourd fell from the body.

"Why does this gourd look so familiar?" the figure in the cloud mused.

"Damn!"

The gourd suddenly unleashed hundreds of streams of metallic sword energy, slicing the cloud into pieces. Then a thousand bolts of divine thunder rained down, dispersing most of the cloud, a muffled groan echoing in the air.

"Ha! Fierce Ghost Daoist, do you now appreciate the mysteries of Qingcheng magic?" A scruffy Daoist emerged from the void, laughing.

"You’re despicable! You set me up!" the Fierce Ghost Daoist raged.

"And you have the nerve to say so?" the drunken Daoist replied coolly. He had long seen through the formation, recognizing it as the Fierce Ghost Daoist’s secret technique, and had used Zhou Qian to draw him out, never appearing himself—calculating exactly this outcome.

Without further words, the drunken Daoist summoned the Divine Jade True Technique and the Gourd Dao Technique. The gourd spewed countless sword energies, forming a sword diagram spanning dozens of miles. Thunder flashed above, gathering into a divine thunder avatar, its giant hands grasping for the black cloud.

The black cloud contracted, transforming into an aged Daoist with a sinister face, disheveled robes, broken hair knot, and pallid complexion.

The Fierce Ghost Daoist waved his sleeve, summoning three hundred sixty-four ghost children. They inhaled and exhaled, forming another black cloud. The ghost children opened their mouths, combining three hundred fifty-four streams of black energy into a demonic apparition to counterattack. Meanwhile, he produced a banner, retreating toward the gourd.

Within dozens of miles, black aura, sword light, thunder, ghost fire, and divine lightning clashed in a tumultuous battle…