“Oh, oh, oh, move, move…” The few men finally snapped out of their daze, positioning themselves at the north, south, east, and west points, whirling their lassos. Bai Er Laizi struck first. With a flick of his wrist, the black iron hook shot out, landing squarely around the Hanba's waist. The hook possessed considerable weight, and its momentum carried it around the creature several times before it finally dropped. The other three followed suit, and in moments, the Hanba was trussed up like a mummy. The four men exchanged glances, then gripped the ropes and yanked back with all their might. Under their pull, the ropes instantly tightened, anchoring the Hanba in place, unable to budge.

“Roar…” The Hanba shrieked fiercely, abandoning Wang Weizhen to lunge at Bai Er Laizi.

“Change formation, change formation!” Wang Weizhen cried out an urgent directive upon seeing the danger. Without needing further instruction, the four men, having been trained by Zhang Enpu, found their earlier fear receding as the life-or-death moment arrived. Seeing the Hanba charge Bai Er Laizi, the two men controlling the ropes on the opposite side instantly increased their force, shouldering the ropes and hauling backward with the sheer effort of an old ox pulling a cart. Meanwhile, Bai Er Laizi and Heishan retreated several steps, tightening the ropes that had slightly slackened, thus pinning the Hanba once more.

It should be noted that this mastery of the rope snare was not exclusive to the Celestial Masters' Daoism. Its origins lay in tricks developed by the Daoists of the Maoshan Sect. In later films, whenever zombies are mentioned, it invariably brings up corpse drivers, and then Maoshan Daoists—this is not entirely without basis. Now, with superstition dispelled, we set that aside. In ancient times, the primary trade of the Maoshan Daoists was precisely corpse driving. The scope of "corpse driving" was actually quite narrow, confined to the mountainous regions of western Hunan, particularly along the Yuan River basin, which was characterized by towering peaks and rugged trails that made even walking difficult. Transporting a coffin over such terrain was immensely troublesome. Many who worked and made a living there often entrusted friends or relatives before death to ensure their remains were carried back to their hometown for burial, rather than being interred in the desolate wilderness. To avoid the jolting and wear of carrying a coffin over rough mountain paths, the method of "corpse driving" thus sprang forth from the hands of the Maoshan Daoists.

Corpse driving, since it involved transporting corpses, naturally carried many unstable factors, one of the most common being corpse transformation (shibian). This rope snare was one method employed by Maoshan sorcerers to deal with such transformations. After all, not every Daoist was as formidable as the character played by Lam Ching-ying in the movies. Zombies possessed savage strength, and engaging them in close combat would certainly result in losses. Thus, they devised this method: first, trap the zombie, then apply talismans to suppress it, making the task much more manageable. Zhang Enpu teaching this rope array formation to the four strong men meant their strength was finally put to good use.

The Hanba was now utterly hysterical. Its previously closed eyes snapped open, emitting blood-red light. Its hair flew wildly, a long tongue lolled out, and its ten long fingernails shimmered with black miasma. Judging by its appearance, it had clearly evolved to the highest stage of a zombie: the Hanba King. Wang Weizhen felt utterly clueless; after all, this was something he had only heard whispers about. Damn it, this was the ultimate specimen, the absolute peak among zombies!

“You… don’t look at me like that! I’m tough because I’ve been scared all my life, I’m not falling for your tricks!” Wang Weizhen gripped his peach-wood sword with both hands, his lips trembling uncontrollably. Although the Hanba was momentarily bound, a starved camel is still larger than a horse. With only this small sword in his hand, he truly didn't know where to aim. While he looked around nervously, Bai Er Laizi was struggling severely. He was from a farming family, having grown up doing hard labor—hauling two bundles of firewood from the front mountain to the back mountain was nothing to him. But now, he clearly felt he was reaching his limit. Although the Maoshan Daoists had incorporated clever leverage principles into the snare, they couldn't withstand the sheer brute force of the Hanba. The two arms with which Bai Er Laizi gripped the rope were bulging with muscle, the raised veins looking like massive earthworms straining beneath his skin. The soles of his cloth shoes scraped raspingly against the ground. If this continued, not only would his arms break, but the soles of his shoes would wear right through. The other three men, less strong than Bai Er Laizi, were already gasping for breath, sustained only by sheer willpower.

“Wang… Half-Immortal Wang, hurry! We can’t hold much longer!” Bai Er Laizi gasped out intermittently. Wang Weizhen saw this and knew hesitation meant disaster for them all. With a sudden resolve, he let out a grunt, channeling all his body’s strength into the peach-wood sword, charging toward the Hanba like a tiny locomotive.

What he didn't know was that this Hanba, having become a Hanba King, possessed a degree of intelligence. Through the back-and-forth, it had recognized these men were at their absolute end, and its smile grew even more sickeningly sweet. Its ten dark, gleaming claws moved, instantly dragging the two men holding the ropes to their knees. The peach-wood sword Wang Weizhen had previously used as a projectile automatically leaped out of the Hanba's body with a snap, grazing Wang Weizhen’s nose bridge. The nose bridge is the most vulnerable part of the face; the blow sent Wang Weizhen reeling, eyes watering, and he collapsed face down. The Hanba roared several times, then violently snapped the ropes. The first two strongmen crashed into the wall with a clang. The blood spurting from their mouths could only be described by two words: unrestrained! Truly more gruesome than someone shattering slate on their chest; they were immediately out of the fight.

“Mama mia!” Bai Er Laizi and Heishan exchanged a look, recognizing the terror in each other’s eyes. They abandoned the ropes entirely and sprinted wildly toward the house, bypassing the glutinous rice area.

Meanwhile, Wang Weizhen staggered to his feet, covering his injured nose bridge with his overly large sleeve. His face was deathly pale, clearly in agony. Dark, reddish blood seeped between his fingers. Wang Weizhen winced, quickly trying to wipe it away, but lacking control, his hand hit the wound, eliciting another sharp cry of pain. His knees buckled, and he fell hard onto the ground.

He happened to tumble right in front of the Hanba. Smelling the blood, the creature immediately bared its teeth and lunged at him. This thoroughly terrified Wang Weizhen, as he knew a bite from this thing was no joke. He tried to pull his legs back but felt a deep ache and numbness in his thighs, unable to muster any strength. Frantic, Wang Weizhen broke out in a cold sweat that soaked his back, his hands clawing uselessly in the air. As the Hanba loomed over him, Wang Weizhen’s eyes caught sight of his own shoe. A sudden inspiration struck him, and with lightning speed, he pulled off his left cloth shoe. Without a second thought, he shoved it directly into the Hanba's gaping mouth. As it happened, the Hanba's jaws were wide open, and it clamped down squarely on Wang Weizhen's foul-smelling cotton shoe. Seizing the opportunity, Wang Weizhen scrambled away, wet himself in fear, and retreated backward.

“Oh, my venerable Master Wang, are you hurt?” Heishan reached the doorway and, seeing Wang Weizhen rolling like a tumbling gourd, quickly helped him up with swift hands.

Standing up, Wang Weizhen disregarded all decorum, frantically waving his fingers: “Quick, stop that thing, stop it!”

“Stop…”

“Stop!” Bai Er Laizi and Heishan quickly echoed, but as the words left their mouths, they noticed Wang Weizhen staring at them, then at the two heavily injured men slumped on the ground, and they instantly understood.

“Half-Immortal Wang, who’s supposed to stop it?” Bai Er Laizi stammered.

“Nonsense! Do you think I can go up in this state? You two go hold it off for a moment while I catch my breath!” Half-Immortal Wang’s beard trembled—he clearly wasn't up to it.

“Then… you…” Though Bai Er Laizi was simple and honest, he wasn't foolish. He immediately looked to Heishan. Heishan was quick, immediately supporting Wang Weizhen: “Old Bai, don’t worry, I’ll stay here and look after Half-Immortal Wang.”

At this point, Bai Er Laizi had no more to say. Gritting his teeth, he slapped his chest, grabbed a wooden beam from the ground, and leaped down the steps. In the courtyard, the Hanba spat out the ruined cloth shoe and charged forward with howls. Bai Er Laizi saw brute force wouldn't work; with a shout, he closed his eyes and swept the beam across the Hanba's waist. Although this beam wasn't one used for roof rafters, it was at least a central support for stacking hay bales, weighing at least fifty or sixty catties, impossible for an ordinary man to wield effectively. Hitting the Hanba was like a mountain pressing on its chest; for anyone else, it would have caused internal upheaval and ruptured organs. But the Hanba seemed utterly unharmed. The hand with the black claws snatched the hard, round log, tore a gash in it, and flung it aside, tossing Bai Er Laizi along with the beam clear across the yard.

Bai Er Laizi landed with a thud on the bluestone steps, his forehead splitting open. Seeing the undying Hanba approaching again, he shouted repeatedly: “Half-Immortal Wang, are you ready? Say something!”

“Ready for what? Run!” Half-Immortal Wang spat on the ground and cursed.

Bai Er Laizi painfully pulled himself up, looking up at Wang Weizhen while gasping, teasing him: “Why did you run out too? You’re supposed to be a great immortal; why are you fleeing at the sight of a ghost?”

“Damn it! Do you know what that thing was just now? That was a Hanba! If I hadn’t run, I’d be dead meat right there! Besides… isn’t Zhang Enpu’s backup still in the house?” Wang Weizhen turned, his face twisted in misery, as he spoke.

“Just running won't do, Half-Immortal. You need to think of a plan. This Hanba is too fast; someone has to keep it occupied, or the three of us will all be finished!” Bai Er Laizi insisted.

Wang Weizhen considered it, realizing he was right. He shook his head: “Fine, you and Heishan help these two brothers inside. I’ll keep it busy for a while longer to wear down some of Celestial Master Zhang’s combat power.”

“We’re counting on you, Half-Immortal Wang. I’m pulling out, buddy. If anything happens to you, I swear I’ll burn you a lot of cash so you can set up a Wang Group down there!” Heishan finished, and then he and Bai Er Laizi dragged the two half-conscious injured men inside.

“Damn your mother’s legs!” Wang Weizhen shouted while dodging, but before he could utter a second curse, he felt a blast of foul wind. He shifted his body, dodging the Hanba to the side.

“Crap, it never ends!” Wang Weizhen was now directly facing the Hanba's back. He pushed off the ground with his feet, leaping up violently, arching his upper body backward, thrusting his hips forward, and executing a beautiful side-kick in mid-air, slamming into the Hanba's back, sending it flying sideways. Seizing this chance, Wang Weizhen snatched up the peach-wood sword that had just broken his nose bridge, brandished it in three sharp flourishes, and charged in.

I refuse to believe this! You can’t beat an old master with a random club—today, I’m going to wear down this Hanba! With this thought, the timidity in Wang Weizhen’s heart gradually vanished. He realized that although the Hanba was fast and impervious to blades, its brain wasn't very sharp—in short, it was slightly brain-dead. Thus, leveraging three parts heroism, he unleashed the skills he had learned from his master over the years, and for a while, he managed to fight the Hanba to a stalemate.

Inside the house, Zhang Enpu and Young Master Liu pulled the two injured men into the inner room. He casually instructed Bai Er Laizi to feed them internal injury medicine and apply some safflower oil, then paid them no further mind.

“Old Daoist Zhang, but Half-Immortal Wang is still outside…”

But Zhang Enpu merely stirred cinnabar in a wooden tub, offering no answer to Young Master Liu’s question.

“Hey, hey, what are you…” Young Master Liu paced back and forth anxiously like an ant on a hot pan.

“What’s wrong with me?” Zhang Enpu finished stirring the mixture of black dog's blood, realgar, and other miscellaneous items in the wooden tub, stood up straight, and smiled good-naturedly at Young Master Liu.

“You…” Young Master Liu took a breath and nearly choked: “Old Man Wang is out there fighting for you, and you sit here ignoring him! Isn't that abandoning someone to die?”

“Is that what this is about!” Zhang Enpu’s lips curled: “Don’t underestimate Old Wang. I estimate his skills are enough to last five or six minutes.” Then, he frowned: “It was right for Old Wang to usher them four inside. No one expected that after consuming so much human blood, the Hanba would advance another level, transforming into the most difficult-to-deal-with Hanba King. By evacuating the non-essential personnel, Wang Weizhen can stall the Hanba King without reservations.”

“Then, Old Daoist, do you have a way to deal with this zombie?” Young Master Liu asked eagerly.

“I… don’t!” Zhang Enpu shook his head.

“What?” Young Master Liu was utterly dumbfounded: “Then what do we do? Now we’re all grouped together, perfect for this zombie to wipe us out in one go.”

“I didn't finish speaking!” Zhang Enpu chuckled: “But fortunately, the historical records of the Heavenly Masters of Longhu Mountain contain methods for dealing with this thing, so this time, we absolutely won't come away empty-handed!”

Seeing the opportune moment had arrived, Zhang Enpu immediately told Young Master Liu to throw all the tables and chairs from the main hall outside, then he closed the door.

Zhang Enpu drew several talismans on the door and walls, sealing the room. Then he took out the wooden tub containing the black dog's blood and realgar, tossed in two handfuls of stirred cinnabar, and squatted down to draw array lines on the ground with his brush.

The courtyard was quite lively by this time. A loud shout came from inside, followed by a harrowing scream, and then a shadow rushed out from the entrance. The shadow grew closer, and through the dim lamplight, Young Master Liu gradually made out that the figure running out was Wang Weizhen.

This Half-Immortal Wang looked quite battered now; his clothes were torn in several places. He held a broken peach-wood sword in one hand and clutched a cloth bag with the other; the sword’s scabbard was nowhere in sight.

Wang Weizhen stumbled forward, and not far behind him hopped the ferocious, red-eyed monster. Clearly, Wang Weizhen had ultimately failed to contain the Hanba, instead enraging it further.

Zhang Enpu had already covered the entire floor with talismans and was currently dotting the inscriptions on them. Seeing Wang Weizhen rush in, he quickly shouted to him: “Find a way to hold it off for a moment, let me finish drawing!” With that, his movements sped up.

Wang Weizhen paused. Looking at Zhang Enpu’s actions, he understood what the Daoist intended. Zhang Enpu was working with such grand fanfare; he must be setting up a very powerful array! It’s often said, if you haven't eaten the pork, you’ve at least seen the pig run. He had previously seen fellow Daoists from other sects discussing such things; he was certainly not unfamiliar with it.

With a sudden surge of resolve, Wang Weizhen pulled a small sword strung together with copper coins from his bag—this was the last treasure his master had given him. He bit his middle finger, smeared the blood on the sword, and flung it toward the Hanba behind him. This sword was called the “Pure Yang Sword.” Since copper coins pass through many hands, they accumulate immense Yang energy. Combined with Wang Weizhen’s middle finger blood, the Yang energy was even stronger. If it had encountered ordinary spirits of “evil” or “resentment,” it would likely have forced them to beg for mercy. But this time, it was facing something far beyond the ordinary!

The “Pure Yang Sword” flew straight toward the Hanba. The creature first recoiled slightly, then let out a sinister cackle, extending its long-clawed hand and slapping the “Pure Yang Sword” to pieces. “Better to hear a ghost cry than to hear a ghost laugh”—that ghostly laughter was something no human could endure. As the mournful sound entered the ear, it sent a chill down the spine. With one slap, the Hanba shattered Wang Weizhen’s “Pure Yang Sword,” snapping the red cord and scattering the coins. However, the Hanba did not escape unscathed; the shock from the “Pure Yang Sword” forced it back more than ten paces.

The final stroke was finally completed. Zhang Enpu let out a long sigh of relief and put away his brush.

Seeing Zhang Enpu was ready, Wang Weizhen cast aside all pretense of composure and executed an “Eighteen Rolls on the Spot,” tumbling past Zhang Enpu’s feet.

The Hanba followed closely behind, charging in with claws extended and teeth bared.

Rows of red lines almost covered the entire floor of the main hall, forming a massive pattern. As Zhang Enpu drew, he muttered an incantation, the contents unknown. While sketching the array lines, Zhang Enpu also took out twenty-eight copper coins and nine pale yellow talismans, arranging them within the array according to specific directions. After placing each coin or talisman, he heavily dotted it with his brush while chanting “Quick!” in a slightly raised voice.

The red lines drawn by Zhang Enpu’s brush were not a dry, dull red; rather, they flowed like fresh blood through human veins, moving smoothly from his wolf-hair brush. As the array neared completion, the red lines grew brighter and fuller, slowly emitting a moist, ruddy glow. The two men present watched, dumbfounded.

“This is too magical! I’ve never seen the old man do this before!” Young Master Liu mumbled.

When Zhang Enpu finished drawing the entire array, the red light suddenly vanished. The entire formation fell silent, and the red lines on the ground returned to a dry, faded red.