A shadow of unease immediately crossed the minds of Partridge Whistle and Red Maiden upon seeing the old man crouching in the ancient tomb. Earlier, a certain ape from the deep mountain woods had been struck down as if by heavenly judgment beneath the Purple Gold Coffin; after the ground outside collapsed, that ape fell into the cavern along with the coffin’s zombie.

This cavern was meant to be the burial ground of the Dongyi people—how could there possibly be an old man here? Seeing how he pursed his cheeks and squinted, with a head full of hoary white hair, he was clearly at the end of his days, alarmingly similar to that ape.

Red Maiden cried out in alarm, “Not good, this must be the ape spirit transformed!” She, too, was a ruthless bandit from the Changsheng Mountain, her movements swift as the wind and merciless in their execution. Seeking the advantage of striking first, as the words left her mouth, she flicked her right arm, sending three throwing knives already concealed in her palm shooting out. The golden blades whistled through the air, aimed directly at the strange, bizarre old man.

Partridge Whistle reacted even faster. Just as he was marveling, he saw Red Maiden launch her deadly attack and quickly kicked out, knocking aside the knives already mid-air, and sharply whispered, “Hold your hand, that is no ape demon; look at his clothing…”

Hearing this, Red Maiden quickly advanced a few steps, holding her lantern closer to examine him. She truly gasped in astonishment, letting out an involuntary “Eh?” and questioned, “What sort of person is this old fellow?”

It turned out that although the elder crouching in the corner was withered and frail, his skin dry and wrinkled, his beard and eyebrows as white as frost, appearing to be over a hundred years of age—as if a strong gust of air might extinguish him entirely—his attire contradicted his appearance. He wore a floral belt and plaid cloth clothing, a mix of Miao and Han styles, making him look unusually common, certainly not the garb of an elderly man. Looking at his clothes, they were exactly those worn by the local guide, the Miao man who had accompanied the group of bandits ever since they entered Laoxiong Ridge.

Partridge Whistle and Red Maiden were intimately familiar with the Miao man’s attire, yet this fellow was, at most, thirty years old. While heavy opium use could certainly age a person prematurely, it was impossible for him to have aged seventy or eighty years in an instant.

The Miao man trembled, struggling as if trying to speak, but due to his withered and decaying body, not a single sound emerged. With great effort, he parted his sunken cheeks, only to find that all his teeth were gone; before he could utter a word, several aged teeth fell out instead.

Partridge Whistle and Red Maiden felt a mixture of dread and suspicion, unsure what profound mystery lay within this cavern grave. They dared not be careless, slowly approaching another half step, stopping two or three feet from the Miao man. “Miao man? How have you become like this?” Partridge Whistle asked, while subtly scanning their surroundings, on guard.

Seeing someone approach to help, the weak and aged guide thought he was saved. In his excitement, his aged heart and trachea seemed unable to bear the strain, and he began panting like a bellows. Following several hoarse coughs, his white hair shed in clumps, and wrinkles multiplied on his face until his features were unrecognizable, as if he had aged several decades more, leaving behind only a desiccated husk.

Red Maiden felt pity for the man’s terrible fate and immediately reached out to support him. However, the highly alert Partridge Whistle swept his surroundings with eyes as sharp as a night hawk’s. He saw the Purple Gold Coffin lying empty and tilted nearby; the zombie and the ape were nowhere to be seen. He then noticed the odd way the Miao man was leaning against the cave wall, as if hiding something behind him. But the cavern terrain was complex, and the area behind the Miao man was a blind spot unreachable by the lantern light—something sinister might lurk there. He hastily shouted to Red Maiden, “Don’t touch him!”

But the warning came too late. A pair of eyes, flickering like candlelight, suddenly appeared from behind the Miao man, and a clawed hand shot out from under his armpit, snapping toward Red Maiden’s wrist with lightning speed.

Red Maiden’s beautiful face paled, and she cried out, “The Corpse King of Xiangxi!” She immediately let go of the Miao man’s arm and recoiled, dodging. After all, she had been a cutthroat bandit for years; though startled by the emergency, her mind remained clear, and she dodged just in time, narrowly evading the monstrous hand.

Unexpectedly, even though her wrist was not seized by the zombie hidden behind the Miao man, the ancient corpse exerted a strange force, shoving the Miao man directly toward her. It moved as fast as the wind, leaving no room to evade.

By now, Partridge Whistle could see clearly: the corpse of the Yuan Dynasty general was pressed tightly against the Miao man’s back, as if draining the man’s vital energy. The zombie’s face had actually gained a hint of ruddy luster, far from the dead pallor they had observed in the woods earlier. It was likely that the Miao man’s instantaneous aging was due to the zombie sucking dry his yang essence.

Seeing the zombie about to pounce on Red Maiden, Partridge Whistle considered firing his gun, but worried that the confined cavern might lead to ricochets injuring his companion. He grit his teeth, dropped his firearm, and rushed forward unarmed to rescue her. Partridge Whistle’s legwork was unparalleled; he was most skilled in the secret technique of the Banyan Daoists for dealing with zombies—the Kuixing Tīdǒu (Wielding the Star Kick)—and had dislocated ancient corpses' spines many times before. Yet, this ancient corpse of the Yuan General seemed no ordinary stiff; its signs of reanimation were highly unusual. Typically, when a zombie springs to life and attacks a living person, it stops once it has grappled with the person or a wooden plank, never letting go even when struck by blades or consumed by fire. Moreover, he had never heard of a zombie draining a living person’s yang essence only for that person to remain alive, albeit rapidly aging.

By now, Partridge Whistle could see clearly: the corpse of the Yuan Dynasty general was pressed tightly against the Miao man’s back, as if draining the man’s vital energy. The zombie’s face had actually gained a hint of ruddy luster, far from the dead pallor they had observed in the woods earlier. It was likely that the Miao man’s instantaneous aging was due to the zombie sucking dry his yang essence.

Seeing the zombie about to pounce on Red Maiden, Partridge Whistle considered firing his gun, but worried that the confined cavern might lead to ricochets injuring his companion. He grit his teeth, dropped his firearm, and rushed forward unarmed to rescue her.

Partridge Whistle’s legwork was unparalleled; he was most skilled in the secret technique of the Banyan Daoists for dealing with zombies—the Kuixing Tīdǒu (Wielding the Star Kick)—and had dislocated ancient corpses' spines many times before. Yet, this ancient corpse of the Yuan General seemed no ordinary stiff; its signs of reanimation were highly unusual. Typically, when a zombie springs to life and attacks a living person, it stops once it has grappled with the person or a wooden plank, never letting go even when struck by blades or consumed by fire. Moreover, he had never heard of a zombie draining a living person’s yang essence only for that person to remain alive, albeit rapidly aging.

However, saving someone allowed no time for careful deliberation. Partridge Whistle’s body shifted, drifting through the cave like a wisp of black smoke. Before the zombie could reach Red Maiden, he was upon it, using the momentum of his charge to throw himself against the corpse from the side, rolling over onto the ground along with the enfeebled Miao man.

Partridge Whistle possessed all the true skills of his lineage, having studied the wrestling techniques passed down by the Liangshan hero Yan Qing. In close-quarters combat, no one in the current martial world could match him. His tackle was fierce and swift, like a tiger pouncing on a sheep. As they hit the ground rolling, he had already locked the Yuan Dynasty zombie’s arm, freeing the Miao man from the ancient corpse’s grasp.

The withered Miao man rolled away like smoke, his aged body wheezing, yet he had ultimately snatched his life back.

Seeing that both the Miao man and Red Maiden were free, Partridge Whistle had no further concerns. Gripping the ancient corpse’s arm with one hand and pulling at the purple robe and gold sash with the other, he roared and exerted his full strength, intending to lift the corpse and immediately use the Kuixing Tīdǒu to shatter its Dazhui (the large vertebra at the base of the neck).

To his shock, the tall, sturdy body of the Yuan General corpse lay on the ground without budging. Partridge Whistle broke out in a sweat, finding himself unable to move it, like a dragonfly attempting to shake a pillar.

The ancient zombie, clad in a purple silk shroud and an inner layer of chainmail, suddenly convulsed. With a clatter, the armor shook free, and it flung off the arm Partridge Whistle held. It turned its head, opened its mouth, and spat a gust of dark, grim, chilling wind directly at Partridge Whistle’s face.

Partridge Whistle inwardly cursed; this Yuan Dynasty zombie was indeed extraordinary, and the Banyan techniques could not restrain it. Seeing the corpse exhale a plume of cold air, he dared not evade it, intending to pull back. However, the zombie suddenly reversed its grip, clamping down on his shoulder. Its fingernails were like iron hooks. It was only thanks to the hidden digging armor—a soft layer beneath his night clothes—that the poisonous claws of the ancient corpse did not sink into his muscle, which would have made it impossible to break free.

With the zombie holding his shoulder, Partridge Whistle found himself unable to employ his greatest skills. He felt a vast, bottomlessly cold suction emanating from the zombie’s body. He immediately realized the truth: the ancient zombie had not merely transformed into a spirit, but this person had achieved a miraculous feat in life, refining a true elixir within his abdomen, which remained in his Dantian after death. The gold powder seen coming from the corpse’s mouth and nose earlier must have been the corpse-suppressing powder used to seal its nine orifices.

In ancient times, the Daoist arts flourished; people didn't just refine external elixirs but also cultivated the inner elixir. However, human lifespan is limited; unless one consumed something like a ten-thousand-year-old Shouwu (Fo-ti root) or Lingzhi mushroom, it was impossible to easily form a true elixir. Depending on the type of spiritual medicine consumed, inner elixirs were categorized as Yin or Yang. The Yang elixir was the "Black Gold Pill," and the Yin elixir was the "Soul-Sucking Pill." Even after the elixir master died, the inner elixir could remain active under specific conditions.

After Ping Mountain shattered, a mother scorpion crawled into the Purple Gold Coffin seeking a dark place to lay eggs. It was then startled out by a wild monkey from the mountains. As the scorpion entered and exited, it dislodged the gold powder in the ancient corpse’s mouth. The inner elixir in the zombie’s Dantian acted like the opposite poles of a magnet toward the living energy; the Yin elixir, escaping through the corpse’s mouth, began to draw life force.

This zombie's inner elixir seemed capable of siphoning away the soul of the living. A Miao man in his prime lost his vitality in an instant, transforming into an aged man with receding hair and missing teeth right before their eyes. Partridge Whistle, as a Banyan Daoist, though not one for drawing talismans to capture ghosts, had studied many Daoist canons and knew of this Soul-Sucking Yin Elixir used in esoteric paths.

At this moment, Partridge Whistle felt the chilling Yin energy exhaled by the zombie behind him—cold as solid ice. Even from half a foot away, a layer of frost formed on the hairs of his entire body. Trapped, unable to break free, he could only brace his elbow against the ancient corpse's jaw. He heard the zombie’s skeleton grinding louder and louder behind him, its strength increasing. Partridge Whistle’s vision darkened, his chest churning with blood, and his arm ached with numbness. He had no idea how long he could hold on.

Meanwhile, Red Maiden, who had narrowly avoided being struck by the zombie, scrambled to her feet, intending to rush to his aid. But as soon as she lifted her foot, she stepped on something soft. Thinking it was another corpse in the tomb, she quickly shifted her weight, only to hear a strange screech in the darkness. A furry face emerged, baring its teeth at her in extreme anger and ferocity.

It turned out the ape that had been pinned beneath the Purple Gold Coffin had fallen into the cavern along with it. Its leg bone was broken, and several ribs were cracked. It had been screaming desperately for its troop to rescue it, but the other monkeys had fled far away. Only the three grave robbers had managed to climb down into the burial chamber from above. The ape, cunning as it was, feared these newcomers meant it harm and quickly drew back into the shadows, holding its breath. Unexpectedly, Red Maiden, in her panic, stepped directly onto its broken leg.

In agony, the ape’s rage erupted. It could no longer hold back, baring its teeth and claws at Red Maiden, threatening her, and then grabbing stones, pelting her relentlessly.

Red Maiden, already startled by the sudden appearance of the old ape, felt her delicate brows knit in anger. She dodged the flying stones and simultaneously flung a throwing knife. She showed restraint; the knife whizzed past the ape’s head, burying itself over two inches deep into a wooden stake behind it, the handle vibrating audibly.

The magic routines of the Moon Gate included various feats of acrobatics, with dangerous performances involving throwing knives at living targets. Red Maiden had practiced this extensively since childhood; even blindfolded, her knives rarely missed their mark. Seeing the old ape’s ferocity, she threw the knife simply to curb its aggression and scare it off, hoping it wouldn’t continue to harass them.

Who knew that the ape would not relent? It bared its teeth, its eyes blazing, and grabbed Red Maiden’s ankle. With a tug, it tore several bleeding gashes into her fair ankle and calf. Red Maiden had never suffered such a brutal insult; killing intent flared within her. She cursed, “Impudent monkey seeks death!” and another knife left her hand, flashing through the air and burying itself up to the hilt in the ape’s abdomen.

Although critically wounded by the knife, the old ape proved incredibly tenacious. With a strange screech, ignoring its mangled body, it stood up on its legs and swung its arms toward Red Maiden’s face.

Red Maiden hadn't expected the ape to fight so desperately; a surge of angry fire shot to her head. She only wanted to end its life quickly. She reached for her pouch, but all the throwing knives in the deerskin sheath were gone. However, she was skilled with concealed mechanisms and carried hidden weapons all over her person. A poison-tipped dagger, guaranteed to stop breath, was hidden in the toe of her shoe. With a twist of her foot, the inch-long blade sprang out, and she kicked it out with deadly intent toward the lunging white ape’s throat.

Driven by the killing blow, Red Maiden focused only on ending the ape’s life, failing to notice the terrain before her. The cave floor was littered with rubble, and where she placed her foot, a stone beam lay horizontally. Her instep struck it squarely with a sickening crack as her leg bone snapped. The pain was so intense she immediately fainted.

Simultaneously, Partridge Whistle, entangled with the zombie and pinned to the ground, happened to catch sight of the flickering light of Red Maiden’s lantern. He saw her throw the knife at the ape, then kick the stone beam, breaking her leg and falling unconscious. The old ape, seemingly realizing its own imminent death, was launching a final, hysterical frenzy. Dragging the entrails spilling from its stomach, its eyes bloodshot, it lifted a large, boulder-sized chunk of rock high above its head, intending to smash the unconscious Red Maiden.