Chapter Thirty-One: Fusion

Luo Longyu lay alone on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling, which now gaped with a massive hole. Steel bars entwined with concrete were exposed to the open air, giving Luo Longyu a sense of indomitable resilience.

Sunlight poured through the breach, and in that beam Luo Longyu watched dust particles drift aimlessly, painting a picture of desolation and silence—no trace of former splendor remained.

He willed himself to recover, but only then did he realize his meridians were utterly severed and his bones broken to splinters; there was no way to repair himself. His corpse felt like stagnant water, devoid of all function.

As time passed, sunlight bathed his arm, and a warm sensation began to spread from there. A glimmer of crystalline red light shimmered on his skin.

Luo Longyu shifted his gaze. Though he could not see precisely what was happening, he sensed something was forming on his skin, gradually covering his arm and voraciously absorbing the sun’s heat, flooding into his body to hasten the repair of his corpse.

“What’s going on? Aren’t zombies supposed to fear sunlight? How am I drawing strength from it?” For a moment, Luo Longyu was bewildered. Had something gone awry?

No matter how he pondered, the fact remained—sunlight was providing the energy to restore him, a scene worlds apart from the usual tales of zombies.

He recalled a passage from the “Notes on the Path of Corpses” describing the drought demon: the Ba, also called Han Ba, was the founder of the Corpse Path, whose appearance brought great drought, who could summon celestial fire, and was often found in scorching lands.

The “Classic of Mountains and Seas: Records of the Great Northern Wilderness” recounts: “There is one clothed in blue, named Ba, daughter of the Yellow Emperor. When Chiyou waged war against the Yellow Emperor, the latter sent the Yinglong to attack him in the fields of Jizhou. Yinglong gathered water, so Chiyou called upon the Wind God and Rain Master, unleashing storms. The Yellow Emperor then sent Ba, and the rain ceased, so Chiyou was slain. Ba could not return to the heavens, and where she dwelled, rain never fell.”

The “Classic of Divine Marvels” notes: “In the south there is one, two or three feet tall, bare-bodied, with eyes atop the head, who moves like the wind. It is called Ba, and wherever it appears, great drought follows and the land reddens for miles.”

From these accounts, it is clear that though different texts describe Ba’s appearance variously, one trait is consistent: Ba causes drought, which is the opposite of the traditional zombie’s fear of sunlight. Ba can even summon celestial fire.

Regarding the “Classic of Divine Marvels,” the “Notes on the Path of Corpses” already offers an explanation and even sketches a depiction based on ancient descriptions. To Luo Longyu, a modern man, the “bare body” suggests a tight suit, the “eyes atop the head,” as shown in the illustration, seem more like a radiant crown absorbing sunlight.

“Wait! Absorbing sunlight!” Luo Longyu suddenly froze. Connecting this with all he knew of zombies, he faintly grasped a clue that could explain everything.

In ancient texts, zombies did not drink blood. The idea of bloodsucking zombies spread only in modern times, chiefly from Hong Kong and Taiwan. Some say this is because Hong Kong’s long British colonial history blended local beliefs with the European vampire myth, but this is not part of Chinese tradition. In the classics, zombies originally absorbed yin and evil energy, then gradually practiced “gazing at the moon and breathing,” absorbing moonlight, much like the moon-gazing rhino cultivation among the demon clans.

But what are these? They are forms of spiritual energy from heaven and earth. In ancient times, spiritual energy was abundant, so zombies could directly absorb it. In modern times, with spiritual energy depleted, what do they rely on? Human blood. Why? Because humanity is the spirit of all things, and their essence contains the richest spiritual energy.

Thus, the idea of zombies drinking blood is not impossible.

However, the “Notes on the Path of Corpses” clarifies: the Corpse Path is not the same as zombies; zombies are failed products of the Path. Yet, like zombies, the Corpse Path requires an energy source—but not moonlight or human blood. Then what is it?

Luo Longyu recalled the elder from the Primeval Secret Realm who had explained that the Path of Corpses was the perfect fusion of silicon-based and carbon-based genes, and the trait of silicon-based life is a craving for heat, relying on thermal energy to sustain itself. This precisely explained why he was absorbing sunlight—it was photosynthesis, the absorption of heat! It fit the nature of silicon-based life.

Looking back at zombie legends, the four ancient progenitors—Ba, Jiang Zhen, Hou Qing, and Ying Gou—only Ba’s appearance would bring drought. Only Ba could absorb sunlight, while the other three, though not afraid of sunlight, could not transform light or heat into their own power.

This further proved that Ba was the first successful practitioner of the Corpse Path, being the daughter of Xuanyuan. The other three progenitors were failed attempts.

He was not suffering from a flaw; his ability to absorb sunlight was evidence that he had indeed succeeded in inheriting the Corpse Path!

A flood of insights about the Path of Corpses and zombies washed through Luo Longyu’s mind, culminating in this new answer. It sounded outrageous, but it was the only explanation for why the Xuanyuan Corpse Path could absorb sunlight.

China’s mythological system, shaped by ever-changing dynasties, has many versions. As the elder in the secret realm once said, humanity is a race adept at creating faith and just as adept at changing it. Though Luo Longyu found this view extreme, upon reflection, he saw its truth.

This is why China’s mythos is so tangled, including the zombie legends. The Corpse Path was first proposed by the Xuanyuan clan in the “Notes on the Path of Corpses.” To the public, zombies and the Corpse Path are equally baleful, and many legends even cast Ba as a monstrous entity, since her drought powers brought great harm to China’s agrarian society.

Yet people conveniently forgot that the Yellow Emperor sent Ba to defeat Chiyou by wielding drought.

When a power benefits humanity, it is revered; when it harms, it is demonized. Such is the nature of belief. In war, Ba is a saint; in peace, she is a bane. Thus, for millennia, the Corpse Path has been branded evil.

Were it not for the Xuanyuan clan, the Corpse Path might never have entered the public consciousness.

Even now, Luo Longyu had no doubt: if his identity as a practitioner of the Corpse Path became known, it would cause widespread panic. The image of the savage zombie is deeply embedded in the national psyche, reinforced by Hong Kong and Taiwanese films.

To restore the true nature of the Corpse Path, people must first distinguish it from zombies. Like yin and yang, gods and demons, the Corpse Path and zombies are opposites—human cultivation leads to immortality or demonhood; the Corpse Path leads to transcendence or, in failure, to zombification.

With these thoughts, Luo Longyu’s heart opened. As sunlight streamed through the ruined roof, bathing half his body, the illuminated side began to glow with crystalline red light. A thin layer of blood-colored crystal formed on the surface, resembling a suit of crystalline armor.

Light energy surged into him, and under the silicon-based crystal’s sheath, half his body rapidly healed—bones reset, meridians reconnected. Luo Longyu slowly raised his right hand, gathering corpse energy within. A beam of light blasted through the entire rooftop, flooding the room with sunlight. Crimson crystal enveloped his body.

Alarmed by the commotion, Luo Mengxuan burst into the room and was stunned by the sight. Luo Longyu’s whole body was clad in a shell of silicon-based crystal, shining brilliantly, a formidable field radiating from him that repelled all objects. The air around him was frigid, as if all heat was being devoured.

He himself seemed an unstable star, with storms and thunder roaring inside him. The surges of energy radiating outward shocked Luo Mengxuan. Remembering Luo Longyu’s warnings, she dared not linger, fleeing the building to watch from afar.

In truth, what was happening within Luo Longyu was far more terrifying than Luo Mengxuan imagined. The Corpse Path was an extraordinarily complex experimental creation, known as the ultimate weapon.

It is well known that silicon and carbon differ fundamentally. The formation of silicon requires far more nuclear fusion than carbon. Carbon forms four bonds and, with only four valence electrons, its orbits are so close that they can overlap, allowing for double bonds. Silicon, with more electron shells and a larger atomic radius, cannot form double bonds easily, making it unlikely to create left- or right-handed compounds like carbon.

Moreover, silicon chains are extremely unstable in water, prone to breaking at any moment, unlike carbon chains, which remain stable in wet or dry conditions. Thus, planets with abundant liquid water are inhospitable to silicon-based life. Creating the Corpse Path necessitated solving these daunting challenges.

Even today, human science cannot comprehend how the Third Era fused silicon and carbon to create the Corpse Path. Yet, since only the Xuanyuan lineage can successfully inherit it, there must be limitations. The key lies not in the fusion of silicon and carbon, but in the unique constitution of the Xuanyuan people.

Returning to the present, it was precisely because of the vast difference between silicon and carbon that frightening changes were happening within Luo Longyu. Silicon absorbed light and heat, which then had to be converted by the carbon-based components into usable energy. This meant atomic collisions, fusion, and exchange, unleashing bursts of terrifying energy that intensified the field around Luo Longyu, exuding an aura of destruction.

His body, encased in silicon crystal, began to levitate unconsciously. The corpse wheel materialized behind him, twin wheels spinning rapidly, drawing in all surrounding energy.

A thunderous roar like a tsunami emanated from within, while the silicon crystals on his body radiated blinding light and heat. He rose slowly into the sky, mindless, resembling a miniature sun from a distance. The scorching power desiccated the earth below, withering grass and splitting the ground. It might not have turned thousands of miles to red desert, but within a ten-mile radius, devastation was complete.

Luo Mengxuan was forced to retreat again and again, the intense light making it impossible to look directly at Luo Longyu.

Within him, silicon and carbon had fused to a high degree, as if forged in a steel furnace. His genetic chain was utterly unlike that of an ordinary human, and the turning of the corpse wheel emitted a deep, resonant hum.

Before long, buildings and land in the vicinity began to collapse and sink. The immense pressure destroyed everything, the void itself twisted, and Luo Mengxuan glimpsed spatial fractures. She could not imagine what would happen if she approached, but one thing was certain—she would die a most terrible death.

The extreme heat melted rebar and all metals, glass shards included. The scene was utterly terrifying.

“In ancient times there was Ba, whose presence brought drought… Truly, the legends are not exaggerated…” Now five miles from Luo Longyu, Luo Mengxuan, shielded by her protective demon script, still felt the suffocating waves of heat rolling over her, and could not help but sigh.

Meanwhile, at the Xuan Yi Center, alarms blared as personnel shouted, “Report! There’s an energy surge in Region 878—something like… a fusion reaction?”

(This chapter contains some chemical concepts meant only for the story—don’t take them too seriously… They won’t withstand professional scrutiny; it’s all for the plot, so no criticism, please…)