Volume One: The Soul-Guiding Gourd and the Lamp of Burning Spirits Chapter Eight: Purging the Corpse Poison

A discerning eye, a gentle breeze, the air thick with the scent of blossoms…

The white mourning banners on the gate fluttered in the wind. Gu Mo gazed at the familiar courtyard, sorrow swelling within him. In the corner of the yard stood a flourishing peach tree, its blossoms in full bloom, a sea of pink flowers dazzlingly beautiful.

A white stone horse stood in the yard, unmoving. For as long as Gu Mo could remember, the stone horse had always been there. (The origin of this stone horse would soon unravel a tale from the past, but for now, it remains untold.)

Beside the stone table beneath the tree sat a hunched old man. He was dressed in a thin white martial arts outfit, his figure gaunt, standing about one meter seventy. At this moment, the old man held an ancient book in one hand and a black chess piece in the other, his eyes fixed intently on the chessboard.

Gu Mo was puzzled upon seeing the old man, yet felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity and warmth from him. Since the elder appeared in his own courtyard, he must have been a close friend of his grandfather.

Out of courtesy, Gu Mo endured the searing pain in his body, dragging his arms as he approached. With a gentle cough, he respectfully greeted, “Grandpa, hello. Why are you in my yard?”

“Mm…” The old man stared at the black and white pieces, ignoring Gu Mo, the owner of the house.

Overlooked, Gu Mo stood motionless, waiting for the old man’s response.

After three minutes, the old man straightened his back and pointed at the black bundle on the stone table. “My name is Chu Changhe. I played chess with your grandfather, and I handled his affairs after he passed. He suffered little in his final moments. In this bundle are your grandfather’s belongings.”

Gu Mo bowed politely, grief rising in his heart, deeper than blood. It seemed that it was Old Chu who had delivered the news of his grandfather’s passing.

After a long silence, Chu Changhe turned around, allowing Gu Mo to see his face clearly. Examining him closely, Gu Mo guessed the old man to be seventy or eighty, his features gentle and kind. His short, graying hair needed no further description.

Chu’s thick eyebrows, large eyes, prominent nose, and slightly yellowed skin were marked with wrinkles, much like Old Xia, but Chu’s gaze was clear and sharp, not clouded like Old Xia’s. His large hands were covered in calluses—a sign of a seasoned practitioner.

As Gu Mo studied Chu, the old man squinted at Gu Mo in return. In a breath, Chu noticed the horrific wound on Gu Mo’s shoulder.

“Child, your injury…”

Gu Mo forced a bitter smile, not wanting to frighten the old man, and began to fabricate. “Oh, it’s nothing! I was passing by a construction site and got stabbed by falling steel bars!”

But Old Chu wasn’t convinced. A raspy, reproachful voice sounded: “Such a young man, yet you lie so easily? Where did you encounter a zombie?”

At those words, Gu Mo shuddered, anxiety rattling within him. His lie had been exposed before it was even fully spoken. Clearly, Old Chu was no ordinary man—perhaps he truly possessed some extraordinary skills.

Next, Chu reached out and tore Gu Mo’s black sports shirt, exposing eight bloody holes on his shoulder and bite marks on his neck.

Looking closely, the wounds were black and purple, swollen like steamed cakes. Capillaries bulged visibly, the black aura chilling to behold.

Gu Mo glanced sideways and gasped in fear, trembling as questions flooded his mind.

‘What’s happening? Why is it worse? Didn’t that silly girl’s golden pill work? Why did she make me eat it then?’

Turning the thought over, Gu Mo suddenly realized.

‘Damn! That silly girl must be trying to kill me! Zombies are yin creatures, and I took her golden pill—double the yin! I’m likely doomed. When I die, she’ll surely force me to marry her!’

Resigned, Gu Mo managed a bitter smile and recounted the events of the previous night when he was attacked by a zombie, hoping Old Chu might have some miraculous remedy. Of course, to avoid unnecessary trouble, he omitted all mention of Yan Wang Jiang Jingxue.

After listening, Old Chu strode straight into Gu Mo’s house, seeming very familiar with its layout.

Soon, Chu emerged carrying a wooden medicine box, striding confidently. When he opened it, Gu Mo was dazzled by the array of bottles and jars—among them, a small bag of glutinous rice.

Chu pulled Gu Mo to sit at the stone table, gently touching the wounds and asking with concern, “Child, does it hurt?”

Gu Mo stared blankly at Chu’s hand and replied softly, “No, Grandpa Chu!”

Chu examined the injuries, his face darkening as he frowned. “Of course it doesn’t! The corpse poison has reached your heart, the flesh is as hard as stone—how could it hurt!”

Gu Mo protested, “Grandpa Chu, don’t scare me!”

But Chu’s expression remained grave, his voice sharp. “Scare you?”

He reached out and tore off a small piece of Gu Mo’s skin around the wound. Gu Mo watched his own flesh removed, yet felt no pain.

“See? Not a single sensation!”

Gu Mo asked, “Grandpa Chu, why is it like this?”

Chu snorted coldly. “In two days, once the corpse poison spreads, even if you’re chopped into pieces you’ll feel nothing!”

“What should I do then?”

Without a word, Chu grabbed two handfuls of glutinous rice and pressed them directly onto Gu Mo’s wounds. Instantly, a sharp hiss rang out—two streams of white smoke billowed from Chu’s hands. Gu Mo grimaced, the pain searing as if his wounds were corroded by acid. Yet, desperate to survive, he clenched his teeth and endured.

When Chu opened his hands, the once pure white rice was now pitch black. Chu pinched a few grains between his fingers, a complex expression on his face.

Truth be told, Gu Mo had watched plenty of zombie movies, but never imagined such scenes would happen to him.

A commanding voice sounded, “Child, follow me!”

Gu Mo’s intuition told him Old Chu was no ordinary man. If he could identify a zombie injury, he must know how to treat it.

The next moment, Chu picked up the medicine box, and Gu Mo—filled with hope—followed him up a few steps into the house.

Familiar furnishings greeted him.

His grandfather’s house was not large, but the layout was square and neat. The central living room, Gu Mo’s bedroom on the left, grandfather’s bedroom on the right, and the third room stacked with incense shop inventory.

Everything in the living room was as before, except for the old wooden table bearing his grandfather’s memorial tablet, inscribed with seven bold characters: “Spirit of Brother Gu Yanzhi.” Three plates of offerings sat before it, with a few wooden stools piled beneath.

Looking at these familiar furnishings, Gu Mo remembered countless moments spent with his grandfather.

“The last time I came home, Grandpa was still…”

After the pang of grief, Gu Mo followed Chu through the house and into his grandfather’s bedroom.

With a swift motion, Chu pulled back the quilt and scattered the remaining glutinous rice onto the kang. Then, looking at Gu Mo, he spoke solemnly, “Child, stand barefoot on it!”

As Gu Mo removed his shoes, he looked into Chu’s eyes and asked curiously, “Grandpa Chu, why?”

“Move!”

“Move what?”

Chu smeared ointment from a bottle onto Gu Mo’s wounds, his voice stern. “Move your hands and feet—move your whole body! Don’t stop for a moment!”

“What happens if I stop?”

Chu wrapped Gu Mo’s arm with gauze and answered solemnly, “If you stop, the blood won’t circulate, it’ll all clog up!”

“And if it clogs?”

“It’ll harden!”

Gu Mo pulled a face, “What happens when it hardens, Grandpa?”

Chu sighed, “Hard means stiff, stiff means hard!”

“What happens if I stiffen?”

“You’ll become a zombie! Then, even I won’t be able to help!”

“What should I do then… Grandpa!”

Chu finished bandaging Gu Mo’s wounds, and upon hearing the question, he scowled and flicked Gu Mo’s forehead.

“Child, if you don’t want to turn into a zombie, start moving!”

Survival instinct flaring, Gu Mo hurriedly stepped barefoot onto the glutinous rice. The hard grains were uncomfortable beneath his feet.

“Grandpa, it hurts my feet! Why glutinous rice?”

Chu, packing up the medicine box, answered in a deep voice, “If you don’t like it, sweep it aside!”

Seeing Chu was annoyed, Gu Mo smiled awkwardly, “I like it, I like it!”

Chu sighed and said, “Child, jump well! If the corpse poison reaches your soles, it’s hard to cure. The snake medicine I used will draw the poison out through your wounds.”

Gu Mo gritted his teeth and, somewhat foolishly, began hopping on the rice. Soon, warmth returned to his body, and it seemed the corpse poison within him was finally suppressed…