Chapter Nineteen: Old Ma Is the Real Mastermind

As the saying goes: it’s not embarrassing to make a fool of yourself, but it’s mortifying when someone else causes you to lose face.

What happened next made me even more frustrated—this damned creature actually crawled inside my thermal underwear and started inching downward, its movement oddly undulating. Glancing at the super beauties beside me, who kept casting looks my way, I could only sigh inwardly with a bitter smile: “Ah, it’s over. You bastard, you’re about to make me a laughingstock.”

At that moment, it had reached my lower body and, upon coming into contact with my privates, it suddenly stood upright. Not only did it startle me, but also the two beautiful girls next to me. I could only inwardly curse, “Damn, you really know how to stir things up.”

The two girls blushed and whispered, “Dirty scoundrel!” before leaving. Just then, the creature slipped out of my pant leg. I grabbed it and stuffed it angrily into my pocket, shaking my head: “Bastard, if you’d fallen out a moment earlier, I wouldn’t have been so humiliated.” With that, I turned and left the classroom with my head lowered.

Two campus beauties had been sitting next to me, a sight for sore eyes, but this damned creature ruined it for me. The situation was truly mortifying.

Instead of returning to the dormitory, I headed straight for Old Ma’s house. Of course, Old Ma knew what had happened—he was the mastermind, and I was merely an accomplice. I wondered if Shuang would misunderstand me.

I knocked on Old Ma’s door, but it wasn’t Old Ma who answered—it was Shuang. When she saw me, she wouldn’t even look at me, leaving me with a cold sentence: “I never expected you to do such a thing. Don’t come looking for me again.” She slammed the door, leaving me standing alone outside.

Damn it, I felt like crying. There’s no justice! It was Old Ma, that bastard, who was behind it all—I was just an accomplice. Why does everyone blame me? Of course, these thoughts remained unspoken.

There was no way to explain myself. I couldn’t say, “Shuang, actually, I’m not human—I’m a zombie!” That would be too clichéd. Anyone who watched TV would retort, “Could you at least act a little more convincingly?”

And those kids who watched Ultraman would recall that memorable line from the ending: “Meilizi, I’ve never told you my true identity. Actually, I am Ultraman!” Whether you laugh at this depends on your imagination and understanding—doesn’t it feel childish?

I certainly wouldn’t repeat those clichés. I simply left a sentence and departed from Shuang’s doorstep, not knowing if she heard me: “Shuang, I just want you to know I truly didn’t do anything. You have to trust me. Someday, you’ll understand.”

As I turned away, I sensed the scent of tears from behind the door. I didn’t know if Shuang was crying. Perhaps our fate was destined to break just as it began. Filled with sadness, I walked down the stairs. Somewhere in the corridor, someone’s phone rang—the song was “Love at the Corner.”

Who did love encounter at the corner...

I smiled bitterly and went downstairs. If someone had asked me then what “I love you” meant, I would have told them it means “play”—the initials spell out “wan” in Chinese, and love is just something to play with.

Sigh—going downstairs, I felt as though a stone weighed on my heart, unable to shake it off for a long time. I walked into a small alley, pulled the creature out of my pocket, tossed it on the ground—a perfect bloodline prince was born. Without another word, I dragged him into a hotel.

After a round of drinking, I was completely drained, while the creature had long since been knocked out by my attempts to drown my sorrows. Though our kind can’t taste wine or food, the alcohol still packs a punch.

I wanted to drink away my troubles, but as the ancients said: “Trying to dispel sorrow with wine only deepens it, and water cut with a knife still flows.” Thus, my relationship with Shuang ended, a friendship that was never quite a romance, though my heart always carried her.

Sigh—the alcohol left me half-unconscious in the hotel room, and by the time I woke, night had fallen.

The creature sprawled on the bed, drooling all over the sheets. I thought, “How could someone in such a state be a bloodline prince? Truly, the heavens have a sense of humor.”

A few slaps woke him up. The creature hadn’t drunk much, so he’d merely fallen asleep.

We staggered down the street, swaying like drunkards. Returning to school was out of the question; we could only wander the streets. Old Ma wasn’t home, so I hailed a taxi and headed for the suburbs.

The suburban houses remained vivid in my memory—they were the activity center for South Mao and North Ma. If Old Ma wasn’t home, he must have gone to find Uncle Mao.

After the taxi dropped us off, we walked to Uncle Mao’s small house and knocked. The door opened, revealing Wang Shengtian’s nephew, Wang Sheng.

I saw him and quickly asked, “Is Uncle Mao home?” Without saying much, Wang Sheng let me in. Seeing the scene inside, I was shocked—Wang Shengtian lay on a wooden board in the center of the room, his body riddled with bloody holes from zombie bites. The creature and I immediately connected this to the deceased Marquis Ma De; this must be his handiwork.

Old Ma and Uncle Mao stood opposite us, expressionless, separated by Wang Shengtian’s corpse. I thought they considered me the murderer, so I explained everything that happened that day. Then Uncle Mao spoke.

“Xiaodong, I know about Shengtian’s death. The bite marks on his body weren’t caused by your zombie clan, but by the bloodline. I didn’t expect Macas to break his promise and brazenly send his men to attack our disciple.” Uncle Mao finished, glaring angrily at the creature.

The creature was visibly terrified and sidled closer to me, whispering, “Brother Dong, this old man looks hostile—you must protect me!” I could only give a bitter smile, surprised at how timid the bloodline prince was.

Faced with the situation, I recounted what the creature had told me—the events from a thousand years ago. Back then, South Mao and North Ma wouldn’t have cared; the bloodline hadn’t even reached China yet.

I walked to Uncle Mao, saying, “Please calm down. I think the disciples of South Mao and North Ma might not know something. The bloodline beside me is the son of the former Blood Emperor, Baron Smith Te. The three bloodline members who killed Wang Shengtian have already been dealt with by me. I believe their motive was that Wang Shengtian possessed something belonging to the bloodline prince—Macas’s tracking device. If he wants the son of the former Blood Emperor so badly, there must be more to it.” As I finished, Wang Sheng quickly came over. “Are you saying that the tracking device was that bloodline cloak you sold to my uncle?”

His tone carried a hint of anger, and I could only smile bitterly. No one would have expected that an old garment would become the catalyst for all this.

We were all at a loss for words—no one wanted the conflict to escalate, so Wang Sheng’s words were simply ignored. After a long silence, Old Ma finally spoke:

“I think I understand. The former Blood Emperor may not have died.” As he finished, the creature trembled, his face filled with excitement.

Old Ma continued, “Xiaodong, there’s something you must know, so you don’t suffer from other zombie kings. Every zombie body harbors an essence of energy, coveted by others of our kind. But this essence isn’t easy to acquire—it requires the blood of one’s closest kin.”

What Old Ma said was crucial, so I listened intently, as did Wang Sheng and the creature.

Old Ma took a sip of water and went on: “The reason Macas, the current Blood Emperor, wants to capture the bloodline prince is to use his blood to extract the essence from the former Blood Emperor, enhancing his own power, surpassing the Blood Emperor threshold, and reaching a higher level.” Old Ma’s expression grew grave, for this was no trivial matter. If Macas truly surpassed the Blood Emperor, only Jiang Chen in the East could rival him—even if I and the other ten zombie kings joined forces, we couldn’t defeat him.

Thinking of Jiang Chen’s unpredictable madness, who knows if he would help the Blood Emperor.

So Uncle Mao said, “The safest way now is for me to protect the creature well, because as Blood Emperor, Macas can’t come to the East; ten zombie kings of equal power here constrain him. But he could send dukes, and if Macas does surpass the Blood Emperor, the East will face disaster.”

Uncle Mao’s words were less than ideal. While I was willing to protect the creature, I was just a fifth-generation zombie underling; facing unknown numbers of dukes in the future, I would be powerless.

But since the creature followed me from the moment he emerged from his coffin, I had no choice but to nod in agreement.

Looking at Wang Shengtian’s corpse, I apologized to Wang Sheng. Fortunately, he was reasonable. “He’s dead; there’s no point in discussing it further.” With that, he left the house. I guessed he was too grief-stricken and needed time alone.

Watching Wang Sheng’s departing figure, I was moved. What was their relationship? An uncle’s death had left Wang Sheng so heartbroken.

Old Ma saw my confusion and understood what I was thinking. He walked over, patted my shoulder, and began to tell me about Wang Sheng’s background.

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