Chapter Two: Raising Flames Like Dragons

Watching the Daoist who vanished swiftly before his eyes, Liu Chen did not immediately rise to pursue and kill him. Having just survived a near-death ordeal, he felt an unbearable irritation simmering in his chest, as if a swarm of mosquitoes were endlessly buzzing inside his mind.

“Ah—”

Liu Chen felt as though he were the Monkey King hearing the monk recite the tightening spell, unable to endure it any longer, and let out a furious howl toward the heavens.

Yet the sound startled even Liu Chen himself. It was so piercingly mournful, like a night specter claiming a soul; a faint-hearted person might well die of fright upon hearing it.

“I am no longer human!”

Though his body appeared much the same as any ordinary person’s, Liu Chen distinctly sensed the cold within, realizing he was nothing but a corpse.

“Lu Qingcai, you wicked Daoist, I will surely kill you!”

Staring at his icy, lifeless body for a long while, Liu Chen gazed around in confusion, his heart a tumult of emotions. At this moment, only the thread of murderous intent grew heavier and more resolute, an obsession.

By now, the sun was rising in radiant glory on the horizon, and the sound of anguished howling reached his ears, rousing Liu Chen from his reverie.

Turning toward the source, Liu Chen discovered it was Qin, the constable who had suffered the same fate as himself, now groaning in agony as the sunlight seared his body.

“So it’s you. In some ways, you’re better off—dead and gone, not lingering half-alive like me.”

Looking at the other man's state, Liu Chen spoke with self-mockery. Yet he suddenly found it strange: half his own body was in the sunlight, but he felt nothing amiss.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed that wherever sunlight touched his body, a fine veil of black mist shielded him, protecting him from harm.

“Go in peace. One day, when I kill that wicked Daoist, I’ll mourn for you.”

Having realized he was immune to the sun’s damage, Liu Chen did nothing further, simply watching as Qin’s corpse melted away under the sunlight, leaving behind only a puddle and some clothing. After a long silence, he spoke a final word.

By this time, it was nearly noon. The sunlight was fierce and unyielding; even with the shroud of resentment to protect him, Liu Chen felt a faint pain throughout his body.

He was not anxious, though. Gathering Qin’s remaining clothes and the corpses of those who had died inexplicably, he piled them together and, with his tireless zombie body, thickened the earth over their shallow graves. By the time he finished, evening was drawing near.

Leaving the valley, Liu Chen relied on the intermittent, vague sense of connection with the wicked Daoist to determine his direction. Without further deliberation, he strode swiftly and set off at a run.

This world was exceedingly desolate. Liu Chen walked nearly ten miles, and not only was there no sign of a modern asphalt road, he couldn’t even find a muddy village path from his childhood memories.

To Liu Chen, the landscape was nothing but endless forest. Even with his faint guidance, he wandered many a wrong path.

“How long will I have to walk like this?”

Though his zombie body never tired, the winding, circuitous journey bred a certain frustration within him. Coupled with the incessant buzzing in his mind, his irritation only deepened.

“If only someone would guide me.”

The crescent moon rose, its cool light pouring down from above, soothing him somewhat. Sensing something amiss, Liu Chen paused to adjust his mood, and as his mind idled, it began to wander.

Just as if Heaven had heard his thoughts, his wish barely formed when he heard deliberately hushed voices approaching from nearby.

“Li, we’re scouts—shouldn’t we stay alert?”

“You country lad, what do you know? Just because someone calls you a soldier doesn’t make you one. I, Li, walked out of the blood-soaked fields of Annan. I tell you, if there’s a man, even three miles away, I can smell him!”

Before the second speaker finished his lazy admonition, Liu Chen’s figure appeared before them.

“Li, didn’t you say you could smell a man from three miles away?”

Staring at Liu Chen standing quietly behind a tree, the younger man turned in bewilderment to ask.

With a sharp “clang,” the older man known as Li drew his long blade without a word, assuming an attack stance as soon as he saw Liu Chen.

Seeing Li’s example, the younger man finally realized they had encountered a possible enemy and hurriedly drew his own weapon.

“Who are you? Why are you here?”

The two men flanked Liu Chen, advancing in a textbook pincer formation while shouting questions to divert his attention.

Liu Chen was taken aback by the situation. Though he had resolved not long ago to kill someone, at heart he was still a man from a peaceful era, unprepared for such a confrontational meeting.

He wasn’t foolish, though. Despite his zombie body, he had no intention of testing it against blades. With a leap, he sprang onto a branch several yards above the ground, dodging their attack.

“You two appear out of nowhere, draw blades and question me—how amusing.”

Standing atop the branch, Liu Chen kept a wary eye on their movements, fearing they might suddenly demonstrate some martial prowess. After all, with zombie Daoists already present, martial artists would hardly be surprising.

Fortunately, events did not unfold as Liu Chen imagined. Seeing he had no intention of fighting, Li promptly sheathed his blade, cupped his fists respectfully, and said,

“I, Li Cui, acted rashly, mistaking you for a foe. Forgive me!”

The abrupt change left both the young man and Liu Chen somewhat bewildered. Moments ago, they were ready for violence, now an apology sufficed?

For Liu Chen, avoiding a fight was ideal; the man’s stance made it clear any encounter would be life-or-death. Yet his original intent to ask directions quietly faded.

“If there’s nothing more, let’s each go our own way.”

He made no effort to prolong the conversation and turned to leave.

“Wait! Meeting someone so late is rare. You’re clearly skilled—an extraordinary fellow. Our commander leads eight hundred brothers on a great mission and we need men like you. I see you wandering the wilds at night, perhaps you’re unappreciated. Why not come with us? There’s opportunity to achieve something grand!”

Hearing Li’s impassioned invitation, the young man beside him grew excited.

But Liu Chen was unmoved. He was now a zombie; what use was glory or ambition?

“I just want to live my own life, nothing extraordinary. By the way, do you know what’s in this direction?”

He began to refuse, but halfway through remembered his problem with recognizing the way and couldn’t help but ask.

“You don’t know the road? Ha!”

Li Cui was surprised, while the young man grinned widely.

“Bah, plenty of folk lose their way. Nothing odd about it.”

Li Cui smacked the young man with his scabbard and rebuked him sternly. Turning to Liu Chen, he said,

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re headed for Xin City. Our current march is toward Xin City as well. If you have no objection, why not travel with us? The wilderness is safer with company.”

Li Cui’s words made sense, and Liu Chen was tempted. Though wary of the army Li mentioned, he figured—now that he was a zombie, so long as he didn’t harm anyone, he needn’t fear others.

With this thought, he realized he had nothing to worry about and nodded in agreement.

“In that case, let’s report back to the camp. By the way, what do we call you?”

Seeing Liu Chen accept, Li Cui visibly relaxed and prepared to return.

“Liu Chen.”

“Oh, so you’re Brother Liu. I heard Sergeant Zhao mention the Liu family of Qingzhou, officials for generations. You seem quite capable—is there any connection?”

Though Li Cui appeared ordinary, as a scout accustomed to the forests, he moved with more ease than Liu Chen, and still had energy to chat.

Though it sounded like a casual jest, Liu Chen, seasoned by society, easily recognized the man’s subtle probing.

“No connection.”

He replied coldly. Outside of work, Liu Chen never had patience for banter, so he ended the topic. Li Cui, sensing the limit, ceased his questions.

Watching Li Cui’s decisiveness, Liu Chen grew curious about the commander planning such a grand enterprise. If all eight hundred men were of Li Cui’s caliber, their ambitions might not be empty talk.

The three walked a long way through the woods before spotting a distant chain of fire snaking along the mountain slopes. After the endless wilderness, the sight brought Liu Chen a sense of human presence.

Yet beyond the visible fire, Liu Chen felt something else—a sensation much like seeing a tiger at the zoo as a child. Though it lounged lazily, its power was unmistakable.