Chapter 331: The Divine Tomb of the Underground Palace (18)
“Crash…”
The ears of the wild wolf lying on the withered tree roots twitched. It swiftly raised its head, its icy gaze sweeping the surroundings.
At some point, the cold mountain wind had stopped blowing. The moonlight quietly spilled over the forested mountains, yet not even the bare branches stirred.
Only in the darkness farther away, the shrubs swayed and branches toppled as if blown by the wind.
Looking from the moonlit clearing into the darkness, it was hard to discern what lay hidden within—it was the perfect cover for danger.
But it could not escape the eyes of the wild wolf.
In its sight, the world appeared in another form entirely.
Behind the shrubs, human silhouettes swayed erratically, their bodies stiff and unsteady. And there were far more than just one or two.
Each tendril of darkness clung to a shadowy figure. Beyond the shaking dead branches, the line of figures extended endlessly into the distance, all of them shambling toward the wolf’s direction, as if without end.
The wolf stood up coldly.
It stood atop the tree roots like a sentinel guarding a cave, icily rejecting any enemy that approached.
“Crash!”
A bloodstained hand suddenly grabbed a branch. Behind the parted shrubs, a figure slowly stepped out, its heavy feet thudding against the ground, even causing the earth to tremble slightly.
Yet the face that slowly emerged from behind the bushes was anything but normal.
In the moonlight, it appeared pale-blue and rigid, devoid of any color or life. The eyes were hollow and clouded—utterly lifeless.
But the man’s neck was drenched in fresh blood, an eye-piercing crimson.
The blood had flowed down his neck, soaking his entire body, but it hadn’t dripped to the ground. Instead, it had long since congealed, gluing his clothes to his body along with bits of flesh and gore. His exposed skin was covered in scratches and bite marks.
Had Yan Shixun been here, he would have recognized the man instantly.
He was clearly the villager who had been killed in the village earlier that night.
The story told by the village chief had not deceived Yan Shixun.
—When people here died, their souls did not depart for reincarnation, nor did their corpses rest peacefully in coffins or at the site of death. Instead, after their blood turned cold, they would rise again, returning from death with lifeless eyes fixed on the living.
A hundred years ago, after a massacre, the people from nearby villages, gripped by guilt and fear of retaliation from the slaughtered village, did everything they could to stop those souls from reaching the underworld, terrified they would report to the King of Hell and expose their crimes.
They nailed the souls into thin coffins in the charnel house.
But what they didn’t realize was that at the same time, they were also nailing in those souls’ hatred and obsession.
This place, changed by their actions, became a land of corpse resurrection as the heavy resentment gathered.
Not only could the slaughtered souls not reincarnate, but neither could the villagers themselves or their descendants.
Those who harmed others ended up harming themselves.
A century ago, blinded by the promise of “treasure,” those people went mad. Never could they have imagined that the curse they invoked would fall upon themselves, turning them into undead beings—neither human nor ghost.
The wild wolf’s eyes were eerie yet lucid, as if a mountain spirit had silently watched the villagers all along, seeing through the fate they had brought upon themselves.
Watching the resurrected villager stumble toward the ancient banyan tree, the alpha wolf stood tall atop the thick roots, its sharp gaze coldly locked onto the continuous stream of corpses emerging from the darkness.
“Awoooo——!!!”
The alpha wolf raised its head and let out a long, chilling howl, filled with the sharpness and power to tear apart any foe.
In the next instant, countless pairs of ghostly green eyes flickered in the dark. A pack of wild wolves emerged from the forest, agile and swift, surrounding the banyan tree in a tight ring, placing themselves between the undead villagers and the tree.
Low growls rumbled from their throats. Their eyes were fierce, baring sharp fangs. Their bodies were taut and poised in attack stances, ready at any moment to lunge and tear the undead to pieces.
If the villagers had still been alive, this scene would have scared them senseless—wetting their pants and fleeing before a single blow was struck.
But the villagers were now dead. Their stiff, muddled corpses knew nothing of fear. They continued staggering forward.
Even when a corpse tripped over the winding roots beneath its feet, it clumsily struggled back up and doggedly continued toward the ancient banyan tree.
It was as if everything had returned to a hundred years ago.
The dead villagers had forgotten who they once were, their minds now overrun by death and the lingering resentment born here. These souls were no longer the current villagers, but the ancestors from a century ago—greedy and stubborn, obsessed with obtaining the rumored treasure.
And the direction of the treasure… lay beneath the banyan tree, hidden within the cave.
One corpse after another emerged from the shrubs, lurching clumsily toward the line of wild wolves guarding the front.
The alpha wolf let out a low, threatening growl. It crouched low, then shot forward like an arrow loosed from its bowstring, charging straight at one of the walking corpses.
The corpse, sluggish and barely self-aware, stood no chance against the primal beast of the mountains. It didn’t even have time to react before it was pounced upon, pinned to the ground with a loud thud.
The alpha wolf’s sharp claws pressed into the corpse’s chest. From above, it looked down with a disdainful and cold gaze, as if staring at a pile of garbage.
It took several delayed moments before the corpse realized it couldn’t move.
It began struggling slowly, driven by instinct to rise and continue toward the cave. But it could only lie on its back like a turtle flipped over, flailing its arms beneath the wolf’s crushing claws.
It couldn’t move an inch.
The alpha wolf bared its fangs in what seemed like a mocking sneer.
Then it raised its claws and brought them down sharply on the corpse’s skull.
“Splurt!”
Chunks of flesh and brain matter mixed with blood splattered—red and white, like a smashed watermelon.
The corpse’s flailing arms stiffened, then collapsed heavily to the ground.
Motionless.
Under the lead of the alpha wolf, the pack of wolves charged ferociously at the gathering undead. Their victims were too slow and rigid to even react before being pinned down. Each blow from claw or fang turned a walking corpse into a mangled heap of flesh and blood on the ground.
The stench of blood filled the air. The silent, sealed-off back mountain behind the charnel house had become a slaughterhouse for the undead.
These wolves were no longer the calm, gentle creatures they had been when they encountered Yan Shixun and the others. With fangs and claws bared, they had reverted to apex predators—every move they made dealt death.
These wild mountain beasts understood this place far better than any villager ever had. They knew the true nature of this land, passed down over centuries. They knew who they had to protect—And who their enemies were.
Even ghosts and spirits were once gentle and kind lives. Yet, the ones still alive had become the true ferocious demons.
The wild wolf’s agile figure darted and twisted through the field of blood-soaked corpses and flesh. Its thick, sleek fur shimmered under the moonlight like rippling water, and its taut muscles formed beautifully fluid lines with each leap.
But beneath this aesthetic of wild power lay merciless death.
Dozens of villagers had charged toward the karst cave, swarming in waves, only to fall one after another beneath the wolves’ sharp claws.
By the time the lead wolf came to a halt, the ground was already littered with blood-soaked corpses. No one was left standing—only chunks of red and white flesh, mashed together with mud.
The rest of the wolves also raised their heads with pride, calmly retracting their claws from the dead.
However, after the lead wolf carefully surveyed the number of villagers on the ground, it quickly sensed something was wrong.
The villagers who had been driven by resentment to surround the karst cave were only half the number that had been killed tonight.
Then—where was the other half?
The lead wolf knew well—there was no kindness to be expected from these villagers.
Ever since the massacre over a hundred years ago, a cloud of resentment had hung stubbornly around the mortuary house, refusing to dissipate. The blood guilt had followed the killers, flowing down through their bloodlines.
The killers of the past had raised their own children with the loot stolen from the annihilated village—grain, valuables, and daily necessities.
Windmills still stained with blood had been torn from the hands of dead children and cheerfully given to other children.
Rice grains spattered with blood had been carelessly washed and thrown into the pot.
As one family wept and died on the cold earth in blood and sorrow, another family laughed and feasted joyfully.
From that moment on, sin had begun to spread. It had accumulated in the souls of today’s villagers, quietly growing along with their inherited guilt.
Tonight, when the vengeful ghosts returned and slaughtered the villagers, the spirits of the dead villagers were also overtaken by the sins and unwillingness passed down from their ancestors. They became obsessed with seeking the so-called “treasure” from the past.
In truth, once the corpses had risen, these villagers were no longer themselves.
They had become nothing more than walking corpses manipulated by sin.
The lead wolf saw this clearly, so it didn’t believe that only half the villagers had come because the other half were too kind to commit evil.
If that was the case, then the other half…
Suddenly, the lead wolf recalled the young man it had previously led. That man had instructed it to leave the area outside the karst cave to him. And outside the cave, there wasn’t only the yizhuang.
There was also the village on the other side of the mountain—the one that had been massacred.
The people who had traveled with the young man were temporarily stationed there.
Could it be…?
As the lead wolf was lost in thought, its ears suddenly twitched. It sharply picked up cries of alarm echoing from far away in the night sky.
In an instant, its expression turned vicious. Its tightly drawn features no longer held the cool, handsome air it had shown to Yan Shixun—they now radiated aggression, and its beautiful eyes were filled with murderous intent.
With a low growl, it voiced its fury—completely enraged by these villagers who showed no remorse, even in death.
The lead wolf turned around and let out two low snarls toward the pack behind it, conveying its command.
The wolves lowered their heads in response, their throats rumbling deeply in a sign of loyalty and obedience.
Even more howls echoed from the surrounding forests, as the wolf pack locked down the mountain range. No living corpse or ghost would be allowed to cross this mountain peak and harm the people on the other side.
Since the grudge here originated from a massacre over a hundred years ago, both the villagers who died tragically back then and those who were killed in acts of revenge should remain here—right at the place where it all began—and have the matter resolved.
It should not involve innocent passersby.
Once the lead wolf finished giving clear orders, it immediately turned and darted off. In an instant, it became a silver-gray flash, charging straight into the dark forest. It leapt over peaks and sped between trees, barely touching the ground as it ran toward the source of the cries.
The villagers had long since been slaughtered in a wave of vengeance, not a single soul left alive in the entire village.
Now, the only living people nearby were those who had traveled with that young man. They were staying in a house just outside the village.
But their protector was currently inside a cave, fighting to safeguard the world and its people.
Given that, the lead wolf didn’t mind becoming their protector for now—at least until that young man returned.
—After all, the young man had entrusted it with this before. And the wolf was not one to go back on its word. Otherwise, how could it command respect among the many wolves of the mountains?
It couldn’t turn a blind eye, so it naturally had to step in and help.
The wolf’s gaze was firm and fierce. Bathed in moonlight, its clear eyes sparkled like a sky full of stars. Its silver-gray fur rippled gently in the swift wind.
Wherever it raced past, the forest parted as if split by a bolt of silver lightning. Branches bent to either side, revealing a clear, unimpeded path that led straight to the house outside the village.
Nan Tian was the first to sense that something was wrong.
Ever since Yan Shixun and the others left, Nan Tian had felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He wrapped himself in a blanket and sat tensely on a chair, unable to close his eyes while everyone else slept soundly around him.
He clutched the talisman Yan Shixun had left him in one hand and held a farm tool—something he had grabbed from the house—in the other, using it as a makeshift weapon. He stared unblinkingly at the door, body so tense with anxiety that he barely dared to breathe, terrified he might miss something important.
The image of Lu Xingxing staying behind and Yan Shixun’s instructions echoed over and over in Nan Tian’s mind like two opposing forces constantly pulling at his thoughts. He was terrified, yet he couldn’t afford to relax.
To say he wasn’t afraid would be a lie.
Before joining this program, Nan Tian had only been a third-rate celebrity constantly hounded by negative rumors of “acting like a diva,” all because he was afraid of ghosts. He struggled to stay relevant, obsessed every day with fans and public opinion, with no time or energy for anything else.
To him, joining this show was purely for the generous payment offered by Director Zhang Wubing. It would help him temporarily relieve the financial stress he was under and let him catch his breath for a while.
He figured, with his popularity declining and no work lined up, he might as well make some money. He came into this with zero expectations.
But Nan Tian never imagined that this spur-of-the-moment decision would change his life forever.
Because of this show, he met Yan Shixun. And it was through this encounter that someone as ordinary as Nan Tian was able to witness the truth of Mount Nanming.
He learned that the reason he had always feared ghosts was because his kind grandmother had been protecting him. He no longer feared spirits. He got to see Granny Nan one last time and finally said a proper goodbye, allowing her to leave in peace.
He also found out that he wasn’t just an ordinary person. He had inherited the bloodline of the shamans of Mount Nanming, and he vowed to become a guardian of the mountain’s legacy.
At the time, Nan Tian truly believed he had done enough.
As an up-and-coming celebrity, he had gradually begun withdrawing from his career, preparing to leave the entertainment industry entirely. He was even planning to settle down on Mount Nanming, distancing himself from the chaos of the world to focus on protecting the mountain with all his heart.
For anyone in the industry, this would have been an unthinkable decision.
Many were shocked by his choice. Even his former rivals expressed admiration after hearing his plans.
This made Nan Tian feel that maybe he was actually doing pretty well.
But it wasn’t until he saw the Taoists from Haiyun Temple fearlessly charge into the Southwest, witnessed Yan Shixun risk his life to turn the tide, saw Taoist Li and Hermit Chengyun sacrifice themselves for the Great Dao, watched Lu Xingxing gravely wounded and on the brink of death, and noticed the rescue team and support staff working tirelessly day and night…
That was when Nan Tian finally realized how naive he had been.
His past self had merely been moved by his own emotions. His understanding of what it meant to be an exorcist had been painfully shallow.
Compared to Yan Shixun, he was like a three-year-old learning to speak—naively thinking that carrying on Mount Nanming’s legacy was just a matter of reading some books and studying talismans.
He hadn’t understood that for truly outstanding exorcists, books and talismans were merely tools to guard the balance of yin and yang and protect all living beings.
Yan Shixun and the Taoists never saw themselves as heroic. Yet they were the ones who truly were.
With their mortal bodies, they formed an unbreakable wall that shielded ordinary people from danger, ensuring peace and happiness remained undisturbed.
In places unknown to the public, countless silent figures stood guard every night, so others could wake up to each new dawn.
But many of those Taoists would never again see their own sunrise.
They died in the dark hours before dawn.
No one knew of their deeds. No one even knew they existed or that they died for the sake of others.
But whether it was Yan Shixun or the Taoists, none of them needed fame or recognition.
They resolved the matter, dusted off their robes, and departed with serene detachment.
When Nan Tian finally understood all of this, he was overwhelmed with guilt—ashamed of his earlier naivety and unable to face himself.
He never told Yan Shixun that when he heard there was still a chance to save Lu Xingxing, he was so overjoyed he nearly burst into tears.
Because what was saved wasn’t just Lu Xingxing—it was also him.
Had Lu Xingxing died there, it would have haunted Nan Tian for the rest of his life. He would never have forgiven himself for surviving while Lu Xingxing died, especially knowing he had inherited the shaman bloodline but didn’t fight alongside him.
So, when Yan Shixun entrusted him with the task of protecting everyone, Nan Tian felt like he had been given a lifeline.
It was Yan Shixun who pulled him back from the brink of a swamp of regret, giving him another chance to make things right.
As the sound of peaceful breathing filled the house, Nan Tian couldn’t help but wonder—had Yan Shixun seen through him? Was that why he had done this?
But he knew that even if he asked, Yan Shixun would only brush him off casually, offering some half-hearted reason without much thought.
That was just the way he always was.
No matter the burden, he carried it on his shoulders with a carefree smile, as if even the weight of the world couldn’t bring him down…
And somehow, that was incredibly reassuring.
Nan Tian gave a bitter smile and shook his head, eyes filled with warmth. He felt that, once again, Yan Shixun had quietly protected him without his noticing.
He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, trying to draw a bit of warmth in the chill of the night.
The fire in the house had long gone out, and the temperature continued to drop.
While everyone else could huddle under the blankets to stay warm, Nan Tian had no choice but to sit shivering on a chair. He was so cold that his teeth were chattering uncontrollably.
“Clack, clack…”
A faint sound echoed near his ears.
At first, Nan Tian thought it was just the sound of his own teeth or bones trembling.
But gradually, he realized something was off.
Even when he tried to stop himself from shaking, the sound didn’t go away. On the contrary, it became clearer and more distinct.
It sounded as though… something was slowly approaching from a distance.
A chill ran down Nan Tian’s spine, and the first thing that came to mind was what Yan Shixun had said earlier—that there were no living people left in the village.
He immediately ruled out the possibility of any villagers trying to launch a surprise attack under cover of darkness. Instead, he wondered if it might be a wild animal from the nearby mountains, coming down in search of food.
But after holding his breath and listening closely for a while, he realized the noise didn’t sound like anything he’d ever heard from a beast.
Rather, it sounded like the dragging shuffle of shoes scraping along the ground.
A terrifying thought suddenly surfaced in Nan Tian’s mind.
Could it be… the corpses of the villagers coming back to life?
He didn’t dare waste time. He immediately prepared for the worst, gripped the farming tool in his hand tightly, and tiptoed to the window to take a look outside.
Even though the mountains at night were usually pitch-black, tonight the moonlight was especially bright, allowing Nan Tian to see the scene outside despite the dim light inside the house.
He saw a shadowy figure resembling a human faintly sliding past the yard.
He couldn’t be certain because the figure’s posture was extremely strange—its spine appeared to be bent all the way over, while its head drooped forward against its chest, and it staggered in a crooked, unstable line as it walked.
If that really was a person… how could a human body bend and twist in so many unnatural ways?
Unless it was already dead.
The sudden thought startled Nan Tian so much that he nearly jumped. He quickly turned around and went to shake Song Ci awake, hoping the young master could help him confirm whether he was just imagining things or if danger was truly closing in.
Even though the young master was delicate and frail, with less fighting ability than a goose, in Nan Tian’s eyes, he was still the most calm and rational person aside from Yan Shixun. When it came to something like this, Song Ci was definitely the right one to consult.
Song Ci, half-asleep, felt like a dog was repeatedly bumping into him in his dream. Annoyed, he raised a hand to swat it away, thinking that perhaps he was simply fated to never get along with dogs in this lifetime.
But the next second, Nan Tian’s voice reached his ears, laced with urgency.
“Song Ci, young master? Please help me.”
Song Ci: “?”
Could it be that he had been too tense during the day, and now he was having weird dreams?
Still half-skeptical, he forced his eyes open—only to be met with Nan Tian’s anxious, worried face. Instantly, all drowsiness vanished. He flipped upright, his face—still marked with the imprint of the pillow—turning serious at once.
“What happened?”
Nan Tian didn’t want to wake the others or attract the attention of whatever strange thing was outside, so he could only whisper and use hand gestures to explain the situation to Song Ci.
Maybe it was the biting cold outside the blanket, or maybe it was the overwhelming fear causing blood to rush to his legs in preparation to flee, but Song Ci’s body temperature began to drop rapidly.
His beautiful eyes slowly widened as he shivered from the cold.
He immediately threw off the blanket and rushed to the window. But just as he wiped away the fog on the glass to see more clearly, he suddenly came face to face with someone pressed right up against the glass.
That face, covered in wrinkles and gray spots, was smeared with blood. It was squished against the window so hard that the features were grotesquely deformed. Already ugly, the face looked even more terrifying, and the lifeless eyes stared unblinking through the glass, silently observing them from who knows how long.
In the moonlight, the horrifying ghostly face looked even more sinister.
Caught completely off guard, Song Ci’s heart skipped a beat. His face turned pale and cold with fear.
Nan Tian, who had followed close behind, was also scared out of his wits. He instinctively let out a cry.
Although he quickly covered his mouth to silence himself, that brief sound, filled with sheer panic, still carried the instinctive terror of a prey about to be hunted. That cry startled the others awake like frightened animals sensing danger.
Even in their sleep, everyone else was suddenly overwhelmed by the sense that a predator had locked onto them. They woke up with a jolt, eyes filled with confusion, still unsure of what was going on.
Nan Tian heard the commotion behind him and immediately turned around, urgently motioning for everyone to keep quiet with a finger to his lips.
Although puzzled, the group obeyed out of trust and quickly covered their mouths, remaining silent in their spots.
Nan Tian then yanked Song Ci down beside him. The two of them held their breath and crouched behind the wall below the window, silently waiting for the thing outside to leave.
That ghastly face remained pressed against the glass, trying to see clearly into the room.
But it was too dark inside to make anything out.
After a while, the grotesque living corpse seemed to assume that no one was inside. It pulled its face away from the window, swayed a bit, then slowly turned around to leave the courtyard.
Seeing this, everyone finally exhaled in relief.
An Nanyuan had been holding back so long that tears welled up in his eyes. His mind had been racing with terrifying thoughts that nearly drove him mad. Even now, as he slowly lowered the hand covering his mouth, he let out a sob-like hiccup, still unable to calm down as he sat amid the pile of blankets.
Everyone else, equally rattled, quickly turned to Nan Tian, eager to know what was going on.
Nan Tian let out a long sigh, his limbs going limp. He collapsed into a chair and briefly but clearly explained what he had seen.
“You’re saying… there’s a possibility that the corpses of the villagers are coming back to life?”
Song Ci’s expression turned solemn.
Nan Tian nodded and said, “Although I haven’t seen the village with my own eyes, I heard what Brother Yan said. There were incidents in the past where the dead rose and attacked others in the village. That happened over a hundred years ago, but for it to happen again now… it’s not impossible.”
An Nanyuan felt a chill run down his spine.
Less than a kilometer away from them lay a mass of corpses. There wasn’t a single living soul in that village. Sleeping here was no different from resting on a mass grave—except they had a roof over their heads instead of being exposed under the open sky.
The most terrifying part was that those corpses might actually rise again!
An Nanyuan was so scared he felt like fainting on the spot. He was sure he’d be traumatized for life—just the thought of going to sleep might haunt him forever.
Who knew if, while he was sleeping, there’d be a corpse from next door silently watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike…
“That really is a possibility,”
Zhao Zhen noticed the fear on everyone’s faces, but instead of comforting them, he calmly laid out the most probable scenario and analyzed it rationally. “Brother Yan said that the other side of the mountain isn’t another village—it’s an abandoned yizhuang. There’s a high chance that some of the corpses there were never cleared out.”
“If we factor in that abandoned yizhuang, and corpses start rising on both sides, then Brother Yan and us will be in the same situation, each having to deal with our own problems. Brother Yan might not make it back in time to save us. Which means…”
Zhao Zhen looked up, his gaze firm as he turned to Nan Tian. “If the corpses really are rising in the village, then we have to save ourselves.”
“Didn’t Brother Yan leave you with some talismans and say he had already contacted the rescue team? They’re supposed to arrive by daybreak. If Brother Yan said that, it means he’s confident he can solve everything on his end and get back to us before sunrise.”
“In that case, all we have to do is make it until morning. Then Brother Yan will come.”
Zhao Zhen whispered, “And that means we win.”
Bai Shuang, trembling with fear, wrapped herself tighter in her blanket and huddled closer to the others. The presence of her companions offered her a bit of safety.
She had never been more thankful for sleeping in a big shared room. If they had been split up for the night, she was certain she’d have been scared half to death by now.
After hearing Zhao Zhen’s words, Bai Shuang nodded in agreement. “If all we need to do is hold out until morning… it should be manageable, right?”
But Song Ci frowned deeply. He didn’t think it would be that simple.
If the corpses really had started to rise, it was unlikely that there would only be one or two. The worst-case scenario was that all the corpses in the village—hundreds of them—had come back to life.
And they were already staying on the outskirts of the village, some distance from where the villagers had died. Even so, the corpses had still managed to find their way to them…
If those undead kept coming one after another, the difficulty of surviving would multiply drastically. The moment they failed even once and were discovered, the danger would spike sharply.
Prompted by Song Ci’s warning, everyone sprang into action. They quickly dressed and began searching the house for anything that could be used as a weapon. Pots, pans, memorial photo frames, candlesticks—anything they could get their hands on was clutched tightly in nervous preparation.
Just as Song Ci reluctantly fastened the last button of his coat under Zhao Zhen’s nagging, a loud crash suddenly came from behind them.
Everyone jumped and turned toward the source of the sound in alarm.
What they saw made their blood run cold…
The kitchen window at the back of the house had been shattered.
That crashing sound they heard was caused by a large rock thrown from outside, hitting the ground hard.
And now, a blood-covered arm had reached through the window from the outside.
With a loud *slap*, the hand gripped the window frame tightly—dirt and bits of flesh were jammed under the fingernails.
Then, a head—crushed and mangled beyond recognition—slowly rose up from behind the window, entering everyone’s view.
The horrifying scene shocked everyone. Some were so disgusted they felt bile rising, retching and tearing up from the sheer physical revulsion.
Seeing this, Nan Tian immediately gripped the shovel in his hands and charged forward. Gritting his teeth, he raised it high and struck the crawling corpse as it tried to climb in through the broken window.
*Thunk!*—the sound of the shovel cracking against the skull rang out sharply.
Already terrified and desperate to protect the others, Nan Tian put all his strength—bordering on reckless abandon—into that one blow, even channeling the power that Yan Shixun had lent him.
The corpse fell with the hit, sliding slowly off the windowsill and collapsing outside.
All that remained were the bits of flesh and shattered bone smeared across the shovel, and the bloody handprint still staining the broken windowpane—a grim reminder of what had just happened.
But before anyone could breathe a sigh of relief and think the danger had passed, several loud crashes rang out from the front of the house—*bang!* *bang!*
They turned around in shock to see that several front windows had also been smashed to pieces by rocks hurled from outside.
Cold wind rushed in through the broken windows, instantly sweeping away the remaining warmth inside. The once-comforting atmosphere of sleep was gone.
Now, only the icy wind howled through the front and back windows, chilling everyone to the bone.
A head rose onto the windowsill, then arms, then legs… The corpse’s movements were horrifyingly fluid, as if every bone in its body had been shattered. It slithered in like an octopus, rapidly climbing the wall from outside.
Behind it, more corpses were lining up, waiting to rush into the house.
With the barriers gone, everyone could now see—they were completely surrounded by corpses, and hadn’t even realized it.
The one that smashed the window earlier—it had been a diversion!
Song Ci ground his teeth in anger, itching to drag that earlier corpse back and beat it all over again.
But there was no time for that now. He tightened his grip on the candlestick in his hands, ready to fight the incoming corpses to the death.
They had reached the point where it was either them—or the undead.
Song Ci’s pride and competitive spirit wouldn’t allow him to lose to something this grotesque and evil!
Nan Tian was the first to charge forward, swinging the shovel.
“AHHHHHHH!!”
He had never learned formal combat. He relied purely on brute force and adrenaline, wildly swinging the shovel in a frenzy, smashing at the corpses crawling through the windows.
One thought burned in his mind: He absolutely could not let them get inside!
Even though the windows were broken and had become entry points, if they could hold each one, they wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked from behind. They still had a shot at survival.
This house was their fortress—and they were the soldiers defending it.
As long as the fortress held, it could protect them. But if the walls fell, they’d be swallowed up by the tide of corpses and surrounded on all sides.
Bai Shuang screamed at the top of her lungs—“AHHHH!”—swinging a large iron wok wildly with her eyes shut, smashing it again and again against the windowsill.
She didn’t dare look at what lay in front of her, but the moment she closed her eyes, the image came rushing back: a head smashed to a pulp, brain matter spilling out like coconut milk and draping over the entire face. The horror of it left her too terrified to glance even one more time. She could only rely on sheer instinct to keep defending herself.
But this scene, surprisingly, also made the variety show celebrity nearby—who was wielding a metal kettle to bash the living dead—frequently turn his head to glance at her, utterly stunned and wide-eyed.
Bai Shuang probably had no idea that the way she looked now was not only fierce and ferocious but even more terrifying than the zombies themselves…
At least for a brief moment, the variety show celebrity actually thought that the zombie being hammered into a bloody, flattened mess by the heavy kettle seemed more like a poor, bullied victim.
But he was soon startled back to reality by the piercing screams around him. He quickly returned his attention to his own zombie-whack-a-mole game, desperately hypnotizing himself: This isn’t a corpse, it’s a mole. This isn’t a corpse, it’s a mole…
What was even more bizarre was probably An Nanyuan, who was using a giant memorial portrait to beat the zombies.
After he managed to smack one zombie so hard it ended up dangling motionlessly over the windowsill, everyone suddenly noticed—what he was holding in his hand was that very zombie’s portrait!
“…This guy probably never imagined that after dying, he’d face another calamity—being beaten to death by his own memorial photo.”
Zhao Zhen looked at An Nanyuan with a complex expression, eyes filled with astonishment.
But then, a few beats later, he realized something was wrong. “Wait a second.”
“If the person in the portrait is this zombie, then that means he died long ago—he’s not one of the villagers who died in the village tonight.”
Zhao Zhen and Nan Tian exchanged glances, both instantly catching on to the problem.
“So… where did this corpse come from?”
Song Ci was stunned for a moment, then responded, “Abandoned yizhuang? Or maybe a cemetery?”
“Crap!”
Nan Tian slapped his thigh, realizing the situation was far worse than he had imagined.
It wasn’t just the villagers who had died tonight that had turned into zombies—very likely, all the corpses from the nearby cemeteries… had risen too!
How massive could that number be?
Nan Tian didn’t even dare think about it in detail. He just felt an overwhelming weight suddenly press down on his chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
He had no idea how Yan Shixun had managed to stay calm and rational when facing situations like this in the past. Now that it was his turn, his mind was in complete chaos. He couldn’t think straight—he could only mechanically swing the shovel in his hand and desperately defend the house they were in.
But everyone knew this wasn’t a long-term solution.
There were only a few of them, and they were up against an unknown number of zombies. It wouldn’t take long before they exhausted all their strength. When that moment came, it would be too late for anything.
“Nan Tian! In those talismans or witchcraft techniques you’ve studied, is there anything that could help us with this situation?”
Zhao Zhen held the front line, bracing himself to keep the zombies from breaking in as he shouted through gritted teeth, “Doesn’t matter what it is, doesn’t matter how good you are at it—just use it, now!”
But Nan Tian was so panicked he broke out in cold sweat. “To learn poison, you first study medicine. To make a curse, you first learn how to break one. I’m just a beginner—what I’ve learned so far is mostly healing and defensive stuff!”
Zhao Zhen was so desperate he was on the verge of snapping. “Fine then! Heal the corpses! If they come back to life, they won’t be attacking like this anymore. At least if they can feel pain, they’ll learn fear!”
But just then, Zhao Zhen suddenly noticed a flash of silver in front of him.
*Swish!*
The zombie in front of him collapsed instantly.
Before Zhao Zhen could get a clear look, he saw that same silver light continue to flash outside the house. Everywhere it passed, the zombies lost their aggression and crumpled softly to the ground.
The pressure on everyone defending the house immediately lightened.
Everyone’s attention was drawn to the arc of silver outside. Under the moonlight, it looked like moonbeams flowing into the mortal world—transformed into blades.
An Nanyuan stared in a daze, his eyes filled with wonder.
When that silver figure finally came to a stop, everyone could see clearly that it wasn’t moonlight at all.
It was a lean, silver-gray wild wolf.
It stood tall under the moonlight, head raised high and eyes sharp with menace. It was a creature of the wild—proud, fierce, and intelligent.
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