Fang Zhiyi acted decisively, laying down a tactical formation at the spot where the two lovers met. Taking advantage of their next rendezvous, he revealed his presence. The snake demon was startled and immediately reverted to its true form. Li Huaian was so terrified he collapsed onto the ground, watching helplessly as his master captured the snake demon into an earthenware jar.
"Its cultivation is insufficient; it intends to absorb human vital essence to practice its dark arts." Fang Zhiyi looked at his haggard disciple. Having been young once himself, he did not scold the boy, but simply said, "Rest and recover your health. In the future, your master will teach you how to distinguish monsters from ordinary beings."
Unexpectedly, once Li Huaian recovered from the shock, he suddenly lashed out. He accused Fang Zhiyi of being an old bachelor who, out of jealousy, wanted to destroy his "love." This accusation left Fang Zhiyi at a loss for words. In the end, he could only watch helplessly as his disciple stormed off in a rage, hoping the boy would eventually figure out on his own that he had just saved his life.
While the eldest disciple stormed off in a huff, the younger disciple, Lin Adai, listened to Nightingale's coaxing and went to the Grand Tomb on West Mountain.
By a twist of fate, the two of them found the location of the tomb's entrance and began their tomb-raiding operation.
A large part of the reason Fang Zhiyi stayed in this area was to guard the Grand Tomb of West Mountain. His master had told him that this was a "corpse-nurturing ground" and that great chaos would ensue if disturbed, so he had remained here. However, he never expected that his master's warning would be fulfilled by his own disciples.
The formation he had painstakingly arranged over many years was destroyed by a few shovels. Nightingale and Lin Adai descended into the tomb to hunt for treasure, successfully triggering the mechanisms within. Nightingale was injured and bled; the scent of blood successfully activated the tomb's owner and several sacrificial corpses buried with him... Yet, in such a terrifying environment, Nightingale actually developed feelings for Lin Adai, and the two of them poured out their hearts to each other in the gloomy burial chamber.
It wasn't until the zombies completely awakened that they scrambled to escape, crawling and rolling away, failing even to close the tomb door behind them.
Qingxi Town met with disaster. That very night, seven people died, including the night watchman.
Lin Adai wanted to tell his master the truth, but was stopped by Nightingale. She knew she had caused a catastrophe and naturally couldn't let others know—otherwise, what would become of her reputation?
Fang Zhiyi naturally discovered the traces of the zombies. However, just as he was about to take action, the police chief, who had arrived a step earlier, arrested him. The charge was suspicion of murdering townspeople and disguising the crime as a zombie attack.
It was not until the zombies appeared again that Fang Zhiyi was released. In the ensuing fierce battle, Fang Zhiyi suffered internal injuries. Lin Adai was scared out of his wits, standing frozen on the spot. The zombies temporarily retreated, but Nightingale curled her lip and said to Lin Adai, "Your master isn't that great, is he? He vomited blood after just a couple of moves." Seeing the look in Lin Adai's eyes, she warned him, "Keep your mouth shut. It's not my fault the zombies came out. Who asked him not to make his formation a bit stronger? At the very least, he should have told everyone there were zombies there. It's all his fault for posturing like that."
The injured Fang Zhiyi wrote a letter and asked Lin Adai to deliver it to his senior brother to request reinforcements. Lin Adai took the letter and set off, but being dull-witted, he went the wrong way as soon as he left the house, causing a delay in the message. Meanwhile, Li Huaian, who had been harboring a grudge, took advantage of his master's injury to secretly steal the jar containing his "lover." After thinking about it, he also stole his master's ritual artifacts.
"Without these, he can't hurt you anymore. Don't worry!" he muttered to the jar.
Only two days later, the recovered zombies returned, much fiercer than before. Fang Zhiyi stood up to face them again, but he realized his artifacts were missing. Unwilling to admit defeat, he bit the tip of his tongue, using his own body as a medium to fight the zombies to the death.
That night, not a single townsperson came out to help. Instead, the police chief came to support him, but having absolutely no experience, the chief was essentially just offering himself up for slaughter.
Halfway along his journey, Li Huaian opened the jar and hurriedly embraced his weak lover. However, when he looked up, he saw the snake demon, who had been starving for a long time, opening its wide mouth to bite him. Fortunately, someone intervened in time to save him.
It was his Martial Uncle—his master's senior brother—followed by his own junior brother.
When the Martial Uncle arrived, the remaining zombies were already wreaking havoc in the town. Fortunately, he came prepared, and with the cooperation of his two martial nephews, he steadily killed all the zombies.
In the end, they buried Fang Zhiyi. Before Fang Zhiyi's grave, the two disciples kowtowed with solemn expressions, speaking of inheriting their master's legacy to exterminate demons and defend the Dao. Nightingale also sighed, spouting bullshit about the impermanence of life.
Fang Zhiyi glanced at Little Hei: "How can these people be so shameless?"
Little Hei laughed: "There is even more ruthless stuff. Your senior brother was later pitted to death by them as well."
"Oh?"
"That disciple of yours bragged to a warlord. And that warlord was also a weirdo; because of the boast your disciple made, he killed your senior brother to send a warning to your disciple."
"..." A scene appeared in Fang Zhiyi's mind.
"He said it, why are you hitting me?"
"Zombies, huh?" Fang Zhiyi recalled for a moment. He didn't seem to have encountered such things before; he had seen Western-style walking dead, though.
He felt inexplicably a little excited.
Suddenly, the little disciple ran in, stumbling and eager. He stammered, "Ma-ma-master, it's n-not good. The little grandson of the Zhang family, he's, he's dying."
Fang Zhiyi frowned: "If he's dying, find a doctor... Why are you telling me!"
Lin Adai froze for a moment, then said, "They said, they said they want you, Master, to go and help call back his soul..."
Fang Zhiyi paused. It seemed there was such an incident. As a Taoist priest, one's studies were inherently miscellaneous; medicine, Taoist arts, and divination were all fields one had to dabble in. He remembered that after the original host of this body went there, he would encounter the newly arrived police chief, and a conflict would arise between the two.
Fang Zhiyi glanced at his profusely sweating little disciple and immediately stood up: "Lead the way."
Lin Adai nodded.
Passing through several alleys, even before they entered, they could hear the crying and shouting of the old lady of the Zhang family: "What should I do? My Zhang family finally has a grandson. If anything happens to you, this old woman won't live either!"
Another voice also drifted out: "Old Mrs. Zhang, please rest assured. Once this spirit talisman is burned to ash and fed to the young master, within three to five days..."
Fang Zhiyi grinned. He had to admit, in this era, real and fake Taoists were everywhere. After all, the common people lacked knowledge, giving superstition a chance to take root and sprout.
"There's a Huaba here too..."
Lin Adai, walking in front, turned his head: "Master, what is a Huaba?"
Fang Zhiyi did not answer. He had learned this term when he was suppressing bandits. "Huaba" was the black slang for those fake Taoists. During the period when banditry was rampant, these fake Taoists, aside from swindling, would sometimes scout for bandits and provide intelligence.
He also saw a man walking aggressively toward them, leading several people.
Seeing that black uniform, Fang Zhiyi guessed the newcomer's background. It was the police chief, Yan Wushuang, who had attended a Western-style school. He was a good man, aside from being a bit stubborn and rigid in his thinking. In the end, he could be counted as someone who died alongside the original host.
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
uld barely embark on the path to immortality. Just as he was on the verge of death, his golden finger awakened. No matter whether it was poison, drained blood and vital energy, diminished lifespan, or any other physical debuff caused by paying a price—once midnight passed, everything would be refreshed. From then on, whenever someone asked what kind of person Chu Ran was, the answer was simple: Forbidden arts that other cultivators dared not learn? Chu Ran would learn them. Prices that even demonic cultivators dared not pay? Chu Ran would pay them. Lifespan that even righteous cultivators dared not burn? Chu Ran would burn it. All the blood essence in his body? Take it. Want both his hands and feet? He would cut them off and send them to you. You say he’s finished? He wasn’t built to sit idle. You think he’s gone mad? No—he was simply waiting for midnight. From that day onward, Chu Ran would respect neither Heaven nor Earth, bow to neither gods nor ghosts. He had only one wish: For midnight to arrive a little sooner.
