Chapter Sixty-Three: The Record of Saint Wang's Descent Upon the Corpse (Final Movement)

Looking at Uncle Mao locked up in the prison, Wang Sheng let out a sigh and said, "Alright then." He gathered up the talismans Uncle Mao had drawn and the ink line soaked in chicken-blood ink by Mao Qiu, then left. Uncle Mao watched Wang Sheng’s departing figure, shook his head, and muttered, “Ah, that Tong Xuan, her glutinous rice is even worse than Sheng’s!” With that, he set his bowl aside, lay down on his bamboo mat, and soon drifted off to sleep.

Half an hour after Wang Sheng left, a Western blood-winged man with bat wings soared across the night sky, following the direction Wang Sheng had taken, leaving only an overwhelming aura in his wake.

Tong Xuan and I had been waiting for Wang Sheng at the gate of the Li residence for quite some time. The Li residence itself sat quietly on the outskirts of the city—its grandness was beyond words. It resembled a palace, a massive villa surrounded by five hundred meters of green woods and lawns. There were several European-style buildings within, seemingly able to accommodate hundreds if not thousands of people. Tong Xuan and I had already encountered no fewer than twenty bodyguards on the outer grounds alone. The lawns around the Li residence were open areas, so we didn’t risk being driven away by the guards.

After about half an hour, Wang Sheng arrived on an electric scooter. I checked my watch: it was already past eleven, and there was still no sign of the zombie. Everything was as calm as any other night. Wang Sheng slung his prop bag onto his back, parked his scooter at the edge of the lawn, and the three of us began circling the vast periphery of the Li residence, imitating the bodyguards on patrol.

If all we did was keep watch, it would be impossible to find the Li family's ancestor who had died more than a century ago in such a vast compound. So, I relied on my unique spiritual sense, extending it across several hundred meters of ground. But none of us could have anticipated the ragged, shadowy figure that descended from the sky and slipped into the inner courtyard of the Li residence—unnoticed by anyone.

Meanwhile, in the Li residence's surveillance room, five security guards were on rotation. Four were snoring away, fast asleep, while the last one lazily kept an eye on the monitors, occasionally glancing over the nighttime scenes of the estate. By chance, his gaze caught an unidentified intruder on the screen. He quickly woke the others and radioed the patrolling guards to head in that direction.

There were four guards patrolling nearby; upon receiving the order, they hurried over, grumbling as they went, "These days, there’s all sorts—someone actually dares target the Li residence!" All four drew their batons in unison. The guard on duty switched camera angles, tracking the uninvited guest and updating the four with his location.

What puzzled the five guards in the surveillance room was that, even with the country’s most advanced high-definition cameras, they could not see the intruder’s face. It was as if a shroud of strange black mist concealed the head of this trespasser.

At that moment, the shadowy figure moved with an odd, jerky gait, yet was astonishingly agile, leaping over the two-meter-high wall with ease. Several patrolling guards, having received the alert, rushed over with batons in hand; counting these and the previous four, there were more than twenty guards assembled.

The shadowy intruder stood before the European-style building where Li Fei lived, as if he already knew Li Fei resided there. With more than twenty batons-wielding guards closing in behind, the shadow did not retreat but slowly turned his head—though he kept it lowered throughout.

Without hesitation, the guards raised their batons and charged, cursing as they went, "Damn thief, making us all mobilize—let’s teach him a lesson!" But as the first baton neared the filthy, ragged guest, the wind from their charge lifted a black cloth from the intruder’s head.

As the cloth fell away, a stench like rotting flesh filled the air. In the bright lights of the Li residence, the intruder’s face was plainly visible—if it could be called a face. His features were grotesquely twisted, his tattered clothes identical to those worn by the long-missing Li ancestor. Who could have guessed that just one day after emerging from the tomb, he would be reduced to this state? His yellowed fangs now gleamed black, and in a daze, he howled at the guards, rousing Li Fei from his sleep, and at the same time alerting the guards and us outside.

In an instant, dozens more guards from the periphery stormed in, batons raised; Wang Sheng, Tong Xuan, and I slipped in behind them, for as I extended my spiritual sense into the residence, I had already felt the presence of that ancient, undying one.

At the doorway of Li Fei’s villa, the guard closest to the zombie was paralyzed by fear, his baton held less than half a meter from the creature, cold sweat pouring down his face. No one dared run, terrified that any movement would provoke the zombie’s wrath.

The outer guards arrived, but at the worst possible moment—the noise of their approach startled the creature, which was nothing like the ugly zombies of the movies. With a sharp crack, the lead guard’s baton was crushed to splinters by the zombie's grip.

Utterly terrified, the outer guards scrambled to escape. Seeing them flee, the front line lost their nerve and bolted as well; those whose legs gave out crawled away on hands and knees, desperate to escape this nightmare, for ordinary people had never witnessed such supernatural horrors.

In such chaos, people only became more disordered and crowded, but fortunately, we hid in a corner and avoided colliding with those fleeing.

Though the will to survive is strong, several guards collapsed on the ground, unable to move. Tong Xuan, peering from behind a wall at the prostrate guards, muttered, “I really don’t know why the Li family hired these people. At the first sign of danger, they flee, and those who can’t just collapse. What a disgrace.”

Whether disgraceful or not, anyone would choose to run in such a situation. They’d seen enough movies to know fighting would mean certain death; who would risk their life for a few thousand yuan a month?

Yet trouble begets trouble. Still groggy, Li Fei, belly round and protruding, pushed open the ornate villa door, squinting sleepily at the shadow in the doorway. In a drowsy voice, he called out, “What’s going on? What happened, what’s all this commotion?”