Chapter Thirteen: Beaten

Zombies are not truly immortal. If a fourth-generation zombie bites someone and turns them into a fifth-generation zombie, the new zombie gains the ability to live forever, but within their body is a single drop of zombie blood essence from the fourth-generation progenitor. If this essence is extracted, the fifth-generation zombie perishes. They are left with only two options: either evolve into a higher-grade demonic corpse, or pledge allegiance to a more powerful one, offering up their blood essence. The first path is virtually impossible—such an evolution would require thousands of years.

Now, after recognizing me as his master, Wang Yong has completely freed himself from the control of the zombie who bit him. He can now go seek revenge openly. While he might not yet be able to defeat that fourth-generation zombie, at least his life is no longer in that creature’s hands.

Wang Yong left, leaving me alone on the cold street, forcing a bitter smile as I made my way back to the university.

There’s little coursework for a third-year student; most days are spent revising or idling away in self-study. Since entering our third year, no one in our entire 312 dorm has bothered with lectures—at most, we’d check in once and then head out to enjoy ourselves.

This morning, Old Ma unexpectedly showed up in our department, announcing that another ancient tomb had been discovered and that tomorrow the whole department would be taken to study it. Of course, I wasn’t exempt.

Time passes so quickly. Before I knew it, tomorrow had become today. Four Mercedes coaches were waiting outside the university, and the hundred or so of us boarded without even feeling crowded.

According to Old Ma, this excavation was at the foot of Kunlun Mountain, supposedly the tomb of an ancient king—at least, that’s what he claimed. After what happened last time, I regarded him with skepticism.

The journey was long and the night tedious. From our city to Kunlun Mountain takes more than a night’s ride; we were expected to arrive around eight or nine in the morning. With nothing better to do, I pulled out the Coolpad phone my dad bought me and typed into Baidu: “Is there an ancient royal tomb at the foot of Kunlun Mountain?”

Just my luck: the moment I hit search, the phone screen went black and refused to turn back on.

“Damn, how frustrating.”

Luckily, my roommate Ren Lingpeng was next to me, eyes closed, lost in music with his Samsung headphones.

With spare time on my hands, I leaned against his shoulder, figuring I might as well nap since we wouldn’t arrive for a while. As soon as I did, I felt Ren shudder. I couldn’t help but think, “Ren, you spend your days sneaking around after girls, and now a grown man leans on your shoulder for a nap and you’re shivering?”

For someone like me, now a demonic corpse, a nap is said to be a way to perceive the path of heaven—at least, that’s what Old Ma claimed. But I’ve never understood what kind of enlightenment could come from a nap—is it the way of sleeping, or perhaps the way of sleeping without snoring?

They say, “believe and it’s real, doubt and it’s nothing.” So I tried to perceive the path of heaven, hoping to break through the threshold of Gold Corpse King and surpass Jiang Chen.

Uncle Mao, that old fellow, told me all this, claiming the task of saving the world rested with me. Back then, I wanted to tell him, “Save your sister yourself!”

As soon as I closed my eyes, I was surrounded by war—every single time, ancient and modern, endless ages of battle. Golden spells drifted above the battlefield, seemingly uttered by a sorcerer lurking in darkness, but I could never find him. Every time I reached for the source of the voice, I’d inexplicably wake up.

“Dong, Dong, it’s morning, we’re almost there.” Ren shook me awake from his shoulder. As soon as I opened my eyes, I sighed, “Damn, that was quick. It doesn’t make sense; I just nodded off and it’s already morning.”

Looking at Ren, I saw him scowl at me, “You leaned on my shoulder the whole night. We all saw you—you slept like the dead and even talked in your sleep.”

When I asked if I talked about war, Ren shook his head, “Everyone on the bus heard you, but I’m probably the only one who understood. You kept muttering something about two steamed buns, soft and white, and a pretty girl.” He gave me a sly, lascivious grin. “Were you dreaming about a girl?”

His words made me want to jump out of the window. I knocked him on the back of the head. “Screw you!”

He slumped back in his seat, rubbing his head, while I tried to figure out if there was any truth to his story. Maybe he had a point. In my dream, the sorcerer was chanting those very words. I just couldn’t believe such obscene spells existed in the world.

We’d arrived at Kunlun Mountain, but still had some way to go on foot, as the buses couldn’t continue. Over a hundred of us had no choice but to disembark and start the trek over broken stones toward the foot of the mountain. There were plenty of people coming and going, all discussing the odd tomb that had been discovered. It seemed Old Ma might have told the truth this time, though whether it was really a royal tomb was another matter.

The students gathered and started the hike together. Luckily, the path was gravel and not mud, so there was no risk of getting stuck.

Watching the groups of students, some of the boys began to show their chivalry by offering to help their crushes with their bags. Some girls, meanwhile, sidled up to the boys and whined, “Oh, I’m so tired!”—instantly turning those boys into free labor.

I watched these eager porters with a wry smile. Just then, a girl came up to me, sighing, “Oh, I’m worn out!” She glanced at me, clearly hoping I’d carry her suitcase.

I just grinned at her, turned coldly away, and walked toward the senior students’ bus, muttering, “Sure, there are more men than women in this country, but have you looked at yourselves? You’re like a pack of raptors straight out of Jurassic Park, and you don’t even charge admission.” I didn’t know if she heard my grumbling, but I did catch her muttering something that would depress any man: “Frigid.”

Hell, I decided to ignore her and kept walking, only to see a few guys fighting to help Ashuang with her luggage. Not one of them wasn’t tall, rich, or handsome. Just as I was sinking into gloom, Ashuang called out to me. Since she called, I couldn’t pretend not to hear and went over, thick-skinned.

“How coincidental, this is…” I had no idea what to say, so I forced a smile.

Those guys noticed me but, seeing how shabbily I was dressed, dismissed me. Maybe that’s how the rich are. In the end, someone about my height but more muscular snatched up Ashuang’s luggage and tried to lead her away.

“Mr. Tall, Rich, and Handsome, put my bag down! Stop bothering me—I have a boyfriend now.” Her words shocked not only me but the other guys, too.

The tall, burly guy pointed at my skinny frame and sneered, “You mean this guy is your boyfriend?” His tone was full of provocation.

“None of your business who it is! All you need to know is that I have a boyfriend now.” With that, Ashuang wrapped her arm around mine—it was the second time she’d done this, and I wished it would happen again.

The tall, rich guy was obviously infuriated. He punched me square in the face. It hurt, but as a demonic corpse, such injuries didn’t faze me.

That punch sent me to the ground, and the others joined in, kicking and punching. Ashuang shouted, “Stop it!”

My eleven roommates from 312, hearing the commotion and knowing Ashuang, rushed over and saw me getting beaten up.

Without a word, all twelve of them locked arms and charged at the attackers.

Of all the so-called “tall, rich, and handsome” guys, only Ren was the real deal—his family runs the Yan Group, a major force both domestically and abroad. The only reason he’s here with country bumpkins like us is probably fate.

The rich boys quickly lost to our eleven tough farm boys plus Ren, and soon they were all sprawled on the ground. The ringleader was dragged in front of me to confess.

Clutching my swollen face, I said in front of Ashuang, “Aren’t you supposed to be ‘tall, rich, and handsome’? I’ll make you ‘tall, poor, and miserable.’ Guys, give it to him!”

Ashuang hurried forward to check on me, dabbing my wounds with medicine.

Watching the posh boys get thrashed was deeply satisfying. Judging by the looks of them, they’d likely be spending the rest of the trip stuck on the bus.

After a round of punches and kicks, Ren finished by stamping on the ringleader’s backside, then dusted off his hands. The group tossed the defeated boys into the luggage compartment.

Seeing my friends rally to my side, I smiled. Ren told me, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them. If they try anything again, I’ll have my dad cut off their funds.” He glanced at me and Ashuang, grinned slyly, and led the others toward the foot of the mountain, taking both our bags with him.

I looked at Ashuang and gave a wry smile. “What am I going to do, looking like this?”

She pinched me playfully. “Let’s go.” So I slipped my arm around her fragrant shoulder and we walked together toward the base of Kunlun Mountain. With every step, she said, “Slow down, be careful!”

It was a warmth I hadn’t felt before. Every time she spoke, I gazed at her deeply, and so we walked, side by side, to the foot of the mountain.

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(A three-thousand-word chapter delivered—hope you all enjoy it...)