Chapter Fifty-Five: A Million Mighty Corpses Descend the Mountain Ridge

The shouting startled Zhong Ming and his companions; after the madman finished yelling, he vanished into the tangled weeds. At that moment, Zhong Ming felt something tugging at his trouser leg. Looking down, he saw a ghastly, white skeletal hand gripping his pants, struggling to pull itself free. Zhong Ming hurriedly swept the hand away with his Severing Blade; the bones were sliced cleanly and fell to the ground, still writhing and crawling about.

“Master Zhang, this is bad—the bones under my feet have moved,” Zhong Ming called out, though he was not particularly afraid. That night, when Liu Chengyin led him to slaughter the Wu family, he had commanded a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood; after such carnage, Zhong Ming had developed a strong immunity to the horrors of the dead.

In contrast, the young Daoist Zhang Nianchen was trembling, his handsome face contorted in fear. He pulled a jade pendant from his robes and muttered, “May the Supreme Deities protect us, let all evil spirits flee…” The sight was amusing: a Daoist priest whose very business was to banish ghosts, yet who feared them so terribly. Perhaps Zhang Nianchen had never encountered the supernatural before—this was, after all, his first expedition.

As for the elder Daoist Zhang Daozhen, he was somewhat flustered, fingers rapidly calculating. After a brief pause, he said anxiously, “This is terrible—I miscalculated. There is a powerful demon lurking here, the yin energy is far heavier than that of a common mass grave. The time when the corpses rise must be much earlier than I anticipated.” He had initially told Zhong Ming that midnight would bring the surge of corpses, but unforeseen events had occurred.

With no time to explain further, Zhang Daozhen produced a porcelain bottle, swallowed two pills, and hastily instructed, “Layman Zhong, you and my disciple stay here. I must go down the mountain to complete the Great Rebirth Array.” With wind at his feet and a talisman in hand, he sped down the mountainside. The elder Daoist moved so swiftly that Zhong Ming could not make out his figure; his silhouette quickly vanished into the night, leaving only sparks of fireflies in his wake.

Zhang Daozhen was exerting himself to activate the Purifying Spirit Talismans.

Now only Zhong Ming and Zhang Nianchen remained atop the hill. Zhang Nianchen stood beneath the glass lantern’s glow and called, “Layman Zhong, step into the divine light—otherwise, when the corpses awaken, you’ll be harmed.” Zhong Ming dragged his blade into the light, and for now he could do nothing but gaze down the mountain, praying that Zhang Daozhen would finish the array in time to contain the corpse tide.

…

In the Tian family estate’s rear garden, Tian Xingjian lounged in a pavilion, twirling his peach blossom fan and gazing into the distance. A smile played upon his lips, and anticipation shone in his eyes. “Senior brother, the corpse tide should be coming soon, right?”

Above the pavilion, Li Que stood atop the roof, his azure eyes fixed on the western hills. He said nothing, but worry creased his brow. He watched for some time, but saw no surge of corpse qi. His brows furrowed deeper. “The corpses ought to rise now, but there’s no sign of the qi erupting. Something’s amiss—I’ll go take a look.” With that, his ornate robes billowed, and blue light gathered beneath his feet, lifting him swiftly toward the wild mountain.

As his senior brother flew off, Tian Xingjian could no longer restrain himself. He folded his fan and called loudly, “Xiaoxiao, prepare my horse—I wish to view the night from the city wall!” The young maid Xiaoxiao responded and went to ready his mount.

Tian Xingjian strolled out, hands clasped behind him, humming merrily, “The moon shines like frost, the breeze flows like water, the scenery is endless. The night is vast, nowhere to search anew; waking, I wander the small garden.” He snapped open his fan, his smile brightening. “Such beauty! To sip a cup atop the city wall, to take in the night beyond—how delightful!” “Marvelous! Marvelous!” Laughing heartily, Tian Xingjian left the garden.

Meanwhile, Li Que had already soared over the city walls. Beneath him, ice crystals formed a lotus, carrying him swiftly; in the time it takes to finish a cup of tea, he arrived at the location of Muddy Village. But the village was gone—only thick, black mist remained. Li Que paid no mind to such a swampy hamlet, seeing nothing amiss, and continued toward the wild mountain.

Blue light streaked along the path as he reached the mountain’s foot, where the hillside was encircled by a shimmering glow. Li Que flew to the nearest patch of light, frowning slightly. He saw yellow talismans radiating gentle light, their glow linked to form a great array upon the hill.

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Within the array, at the site where corpses were to rise, the illumination revealed many decaying bodies struggling to crawl outward. Yet they met considerable resistance. Black mist, corpse qi, slowly rose from their forms. Li Que’s brow furrowed sharply, his face twisting. “Who is suppressing the corpse qi?”

His eyes shone with blue-violet light, and deep blue ice crystals formed around his hands. He reached for the Purifying Spirit Talismans. To Li Que, the Great Rebirth Array was mere sorcery—a trivial trick, not worth searching for its core. He intended to break it by force.

Blue ice formed a giant hand, half the height of a man, which seized the talisman. Suddenly, the talisman’s yellow light flared, shattering Li Que’s ice hand; shards flew in all directions, much of the ice hand crumbled, nearly injuring him.

“A master, then?” His exclamation stirred his competitive spirit. The ice hand reformed, more complete than before; ice spread behind him, condensing into an arm, a shoulder…

Finally, behind Li Que, a monstrous figure took shape: half rabbit head, half human body, made of ice. The ice monster howled silently; Li Que’s eyes glowed violet as he shouted, “Break!” Both ice arms reached for the talisman.

Each time the ice touched yellow light, it fractured; but Li Que’s speed in forming ice surpassed the talisman’s resistance. Gradually, the giant hands drew closer; for Li Que, victory was only a matter of time.

At the mountain’s base, Elder Zhang Daozhen sat cross-legged in the grass, his hands rapidly shifting through hand seals. Yet the talisman’s light before him continued to fade. Zhang Daozhen cursed inwardly: he had not expected the corpse qi to be so strong—he could not hold it back.

He did not know an unexpected foe—Li Que—was sabotaging his array.

The elder Daoist’s resolve wavered; resistance grew stronger, and his defeat was inevitable. “Ah, fate cannot be defied!” he sighed suddenly, then opened his eyes wide, withdrew his hands, and ceased his seals. The talisman flickered, then extinguished and fell to the ground.

Zhang Daozhen uncorked a jade gourd at his waist, releasing two black pills to shield himself. He pulled another pill from his robes, swallowed it, and began meditating. He had exerted himself fully to maintain the array, but now his internal energy was exhausted; he could only sit and recover.

The corpses once held back by the array now howled as they surged down the hillside. Before Zhang Daozhen, hundreds of bodies—rotting flesh, skeletal frames—rushed forward, the intact ones running, the broken ones crawling and rolling.

More and more corpses emerged from the hill, their silent roars swelling as they streamed down. Ten thousand bodies surged ahead, trampling the slower ones beneath their feet. The corpse tide had formed and was rushing toward the border city, drawn by the strongest living energy.

Zhang Daozhen was protected by two black pills, like a lone boat in a raging sea, soon swallowed by the corpse tide. Even their glow was smothered by the dead. A solitary boat adrift on the vast sea—life and death uncertain.

At the moment the array broke, the ice monster behind Li Que crushed the talisman. Li Que sneered, “You junior fools—dreaming of resisting a Pill-Condensing master like me? Deluded!” His face returned to its icy composure as he surveyed the scene. The array was undone; the corpse tide had arrived as expected.

Now, he sought the meddler who dared oppose the Jade Capital—one who must have lived too long and now wished for death. Violet light blazed in his eyes as he scanned the wild mountain.

Eighty-one Purifying Spirit Talismans had fallen; the mountain was dim, save for the brilliant glow of the glass lantern at its summit. Li Que fixed his gaze on the radiant hilltop, a strange smile appearing on his cold face. “Kunlun? Or perhaps Penglai? Maybe the Forest of Ten Thousand Demons?”

Violet light surged in his eyes. He sneered, “Whomever you are, tonight, you will not leave alive!” Summoning the ice lotus beneath his feet, the ice monster behind him brandished its claws as he soared toward the mountain peak.

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…

South of the border city, at the site of the Immortal Stone.

Now, the stone was surrounded by incense and offerings. Occasionally, golden light flickered across the dark boulder, as if a dragon wandered within. Two figures stood before the stone, one tall, one short.

The tall one was nearly nine feet high, a portly man with a round belly and genial face, his hair tied in a Daoist knot. He stared fixedly at the words “Immortal Stone.”

The short one was a little girl, five or six years old, her long hair tied in two buns, chubby and smiling, utterly endearing. In front of her hung a large cloth bag, from which she kept pulling snacks—dried fruits, pastries, fresh fruit, all manner of treats. Within moments, she’d produced seven or eight different snacks. The small bag seemed endless.

After finishing her pear, the girl grew impatient. She tugged at the man’s sleeve. “Daddy, what’s so interesting about this stupid stone? You’ve been staring for an hour!” The portly man chuckled; his daughter exaggerated—he’d only stood there for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.

“This Immortal Stone must be the work of Yutu; his Daoist arts have improved. In a while, he’ll surely surpass his sister, Echan,” the man observed, gazing at the dancing golden characters.

He was utterly unaffected by the stone’s enchantment, simply admiring the calligraphy.

The girl pouted, pulled out a red pastry, and muttered, “Boring. Daddy just likes looking at words and paintings. You play the lute, but don’t like music—just calligraphy? I’ll tell Grandpa you’re lazy and not advancing!”

The man smiled wryly; his daughter was clever and mischievous, and he could only laugh. “Feifei, don’t be angry. How about I show you something interesting?”

“What’s interesting?” asked Feifei, uninterested, chewing her pastry.

The man said nothing more, picked her up, and placed her on his left shoulder. With a tap of his toe, he leaped atop the Immortal Stone. From the highest point, he pointed into the night. “Feifei, look—there goes the night march of ten thousand corpses. You’ve never seen such a thing, have you?”

Feifei squinted ahead. They were looking toward the wild mountain. “Really? That’s fun! I’ve never seen dead people move before!” The girl was thoroughly entertained, but the man swayed, nearly unseating her. She pouted, “Daddy, don’t move—I haven’t finished watching.”

The man did not wish to move, but the stone beneath him acted up. The golden characters turned into an army of golden figures, charging at the man atop the peak—the stone’s spirit resisted, refusing to let anyone stand on its head.

The man’s expression did not change. He stomped gently with his left foot, sending a white wave across the stone’s summit. The Immortal Stone trembled, its peak cracking and splitting. The golden army vanished, the characters ceased to glow—only silence remained.

It was as if the stone had died.

The man smiled at last. “Daddy won’t move. Feifei, take your time watching.” His daughter sat on his shoulder, munching sunflower seeds as she watched the corpse tide. The man turned northward, gazing beyond the border city.

He murmured, “Yutu, your method of collecting incense for the Jade Palace is rather disgraceful.”

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