Chapter 9: The Ambush of the Reanimated!

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They hoped it wouldn’t come to that. After all, they had sought out countless monks and Taoist priests in the hope of properly helping Zhou Da’s soul find peace in the afterlife. What was the point of me stepping in with some grand “Great Might Heavenly Dragon” move? I’m not really a Master Fahai, known for his ruthless disposition. Besides, Fahai didn’t just kill indiscriminately—he subdued demons first, imprisoning them beneath pagodas or pavilions. There’s no way he would just unleash a radiant Buddhist light to slaughter recklessly.

But on second thought, even a ruthless figure like Fahai was preferable. If it were someone like the Tripitaka Master, then I wouldn’t have Sun Wukong to save me.

This was also Du Yuan’s first time dealing with a zombie, such a sinister creature that his Uncle Ying had terrorized him with since childhood. Even if he had a secret technique hidden away, Du Yuan couldn’t help but try to calm himself by thinking through this and that. This was both to steady his nerves so he wouldn’t show fear before even entering, and to reassure those around him. After all, most likely, he was their last hope. If even someone like him, who had some skill, was faltering, then what hope did the villagers, tied as they were to the land, have?

So, even though Du Yuan had no confidence in his heart, he maintained an outward calm and poised demeanor. The tips of his fingers instinctively brushed against the cold sweat at his temple, causing a brief pause, but as he withdrew his hand, he smoothed his collar, projecting an air of assured ease to onlookers.

Whispers spread quietly among the crowd:

“This young master looks remarkably exceptional. Maybe he really can do it?”

“I feel the same way. Totally different from those mediocre so-called masters before. Perhaps he truly has the ability!”

“That’s good, that’s good. After all this trouble, it should finally be over!”

...

Du Yuan stepped over the carpet of fallen leaves toward the thatched cottage near the village’s eastern edge. Dappled sunlight filtered through the locust tree in front of the door, casting a golden glow on the blue stone slabs, as though setting a stage for this grand drama. The sun behind him stretched his shadow long, casting it over the peeling vermilion door paint, making it seem even taller than the door gods’ statues.

Around him lay a toppled altar, scattered strips of white silk, joss paper, and other offerings. Even a few mismatched shoes lay abandoned—clear signs that the previous so-called masters had been thoroughly frightened, leaving their shoes behind in haste.

The man who had brought Du Yuan wiped cold sweat from his brow and pointed to the door.

“Sir, it’s here. I—I’ll just...?”

Du Yuan’s composed appearance had worked wonders; the man’s address shifted from “young man” to “sir.”

Knowing the man was frightened, Du Yuan smiled lightly and nodded.

“Don’t worry. You all should leave. One person is enough here.”

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The man exhaled in relief and immediately began pulling the hesitant elderly woman, who wanted to stay but dared not, away from the house. Before leaving, he instructed:

“Sir, before you go in, it’s best to take a look through the window. If after seeing, you still have confidence, then just consider my words nonsense!”

With that, he tugged the old woman along.

“My dear sister-in-law, rest assured. This young master clearly has ability. Let’s go wait somewhere else.”

The elderly woman said nothing—not because she doubted Du Yuan’s skill; on the contrary, she truly believed he had ability. She had never seen such composure and grace in her life.

She remained silent because she feared Du Yuan was not here to simply help her son’s soul rest but to exorcise and subdue demons!

But what could be done? Her son had somehow been corrupted by an evil wind and transformed into a zombie. Leaving him alone was dangerous—not only could he harm others, but the village elders would never find peace.

After much thought, the elderly woman suppressed all her fears, letting out a deeply sorrowful sigh as she led her young granddaughter away from the house, glancing back every few steps.

Before fully leaving, she called out to Du Yuan:

“Please, sir, help my poor boy find peace!”

Du Yuan nodded slightly in acknowledgment and then looked toward the house filled with scattered joss paper.

Indeed, there was an inexplicable sense of eerie gloom.

What to do next?

As Du Yuan pondered his next move, many bold neighbors had already stepped out of their homes to watch. His demeanor and that indefinable aura captivated the villagers, making them instinctively feel that this young gentleman truly possessed some ability. They all wanted to see what would happen.

However, a heavy, dull thud suddenly sounded from inside the house. Those who had dared to come out quickly cried out in alarm and hurried back inside, some scattering even more glutinous rice, joss paper, and talismans at the doorstep, piling the offerings higher. The ominous thud made Du Yuan’s brow furrow slightly.

Was that a door being struck? No—it was the wall!

Suppressing the urge to summon the Buddha’s light, Du Yuan stepped forward cautiously.

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Looking through the gaps made by the previous masters in the door and window, Du Yuan saw clearly inside the house.

A gaunt man stood dazed before a wall, repeatedly banging his head against it.

What was he doing?

A flicker of doubt rose in Du Yuan’s heart.

Suddenly, the man twisted his head and stared directly at him through the door’s opening!

His once simple, honest face was now utterly devoid of blood, the pallor extreme. His lips were cracked and blue-purple, revealing stark white teeth. Drool dripped continuously from his chin. His eyes were murky gray-white, fixed unblinkingly on Du Yuan, blood vessels webbing across the eyeballs as if they might burst forth any moment.

Though his limbs were stiff and wooden, half-inch-long blackened nails curved menacingly with slight movements in the air.

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