A restless heart meant chaos, and Zhou Huan’s composure was starting to fray. He had never encountered zombies like these; he only knew of the Zombie Soul from books, never imagining he would witness one firsthand.

“You two zombies speak surprisingly fluent human language. Watch out, or the fearsome Zhou Huan will put you in your place!” Zhou Huan tried to project confidence, intending to shout the spirits down, but he hadn't anticipated that this type of zombie could be conjoined. Yet, he too possessed the ability to split his presence.

Just as Zhou Huan played his trick, he felt sudden, biting gusts of cold wind behind him. Shi Bingyuan was leading the main ritual on the platform, but this chill was far from benign; it carried an intense, palpable killing intent.

Zhou Huan spun around violently, only to find nothing there. When he turned back, his neck was already clamped between two extraordinarily long, sharp nails, millimeters from piercing his jugular.

Zhou Huan tried to use his hand to pry the elongated claws away, but the instant his skin touched the nail, a deep gash opened on his hand, spilling vivid crimson blood. What followed was a darker, thicker, almost tar-like fluid.

Those claws began to bore into Zhou Huan’s neck. His Heavenly Silkworm Gloves were too short to reach any part of the zombies. Dongzi, watching from the sidelines, hefted his iron shovel, leaped high, and cleaved off the zombie’s right arm with a single swing. However, just as Dongzi began his descent, he realized another zombie had materialized behind him, gripping his throat and squeezing with crushing force. Dongzi immediately began to suffocate.

At that precise moment, a figure dropped from the high wall of the asylum. This individual moved with incredible speed, reaching Zhou Huan in an instant. He struck once, then spun to deliver a second blow, severing the three zombie appendages ensnaring both Zhou Huan and Dongzi.

Seizing the opportunity, Zhou Huan wrenched the appendage stuck to his own body violently away, flung it aside, drew a talisman, and slapped it onto his chest. He then quickly slapped another onto Dongzi’s neck. He swung his right-hand Heavenly Silkworm Glove outward with tremendous force. With a sharp bang, the conjoined zombie’s body was riddled with impact. Zhou Huan retracted his hand. “Stop playing tricks with me,” he warned, “or I’ll leave not a single part of you intact.”

“Hahaha, Zhou Huan, look what’s happening to me!” the zombie mocked. The spot where it had been injured instantly became whole again. Both hands regrew, and the hole in its body sealed itself. Strangely, the third zombie that had sprung from behind Dongzi now had no shadow.

Zhou Huan felt a sudden, invasive contamination in his body—a zombie virus. His breathing grew labored, and the skin on his face felt unnaturally cold. The chill swept from his head to his toes, settling deep within him.

“Hiss!” Zhou Huan sucked in a sharp breath, cursing loudly, “What kind of foul trick is this? It’s so cold, even my toes are numb!”

“Numb toes are a small matter. I fear soon you will be like me, needing to devour living people until you’re sated.” Then the conjoined zombie split into three distinct, complete bodies. Only one of the three was headless; it remained silent, merely swinging its two hands back and forth.

Zhou Huan was fortunate the talisman had been applied in time; otherwise, he would have collapsed moments ago. He stood firm, breathing raggedly. “Tianxiong, thank you for appearing just then. If not, your Master would have been thoroughly humiliated today. Quickly, fetch the cinnabar gold dust and mix it with yellow wine for Dongzi to drink first. Then, prepare some for me; I’ll hold them off for a while.”

As Zhou Huan prepared to move, he found his strength waning with every effort. His vision blurred. He could only watch as the three zombies mocked him, poised to strike again.

Zhou Huan stretched out a mighty hand, exhausting his last reserves of energy. “You three are incredibly powerful. Very well, I propose a game. If you win, we won’t retaliate or cause you any trouble; you can do as you please with us. If I win, you will promptly return to wherever you came from.”

“Hahaha, a defeated opponent who has to rely on his apprentices for rescue dares to negotiate terms with us?” The three ghosts roared with laughter, closing in on Zhou Huan step by step. Just as they reached him, they suddenly realized Zhou Huan had vanished. Looking down, they saw he had collapsed from hypoxia, his face turning dusky purple.

Tianxiong realized the ghosts were about to make contact with Zhou Huan again—this was catastrophic. If Zhou Huan’s body was attacked once more, he would be the next to mutate. So, Tianxiong risked everything, snatching up the knife he carried. This blade was left for him by his former master—a friend of Zhou Huan’s past life—when he descended from Mount Wutai. It held immense power in critical moments. This knife had been consecrated by generations of eminent monks; its spiritual energy was beyond measure. Yet, the fact that the zombies remained unharmed after his previous strikes proved they were no ordinary fiends from the lower paths.

“Behold my blade!” Tianxiong shouted, drawing the attention of all three zombies.

The three dodged his attack, then stepped back. “Not bad, kid. Using such a fine blade against us. It seems if we don’t take care of you, the rest of this scene won’t be easily managed!”

Li Tianxiong finally got a clear look at the three zombies’ forms. He glanced back at Shi Bingyuan on the platform. The reason the three zombies hadn't charged into the crowd of living people was due to the clever formation Zhou Huan had initially set up.

Coupled with Tianxiong’s sudden appearance from the wall and the vigilance of the scattered lone spirits acting as lookouts—feats beyond the capability of an ordinary funeral master—it was clear that any spirit capable of infiltrating Zhou Huan’s defenses was not to be trifled with. If they had an older brother, just how ruthless and cunning might their leader be?

Seeing the ghosts retreat, Tianxiong felt his breast pocket, then crouched down. “You spirits truly lack any sense of honor!” As he spoke, he quickly poured the prepared mixture of yellow wine, cinnabar, and gold powder into Zhou Huan’s mouth, then began to smear the remainder onto Zhou Huan’s wounds.

As Tianxiong rubbed the yellow wine onto Zhou Huan, the three zombies simultaneously extended their hands toward Tianxiong’s body, mere moments away from tearing him limb from limb. However, Tianxiong always kept a copy of the Vajra Sutra tucked in his robe, a book left to him by his master—an ancient text from the Hidden Scripture Pavilion of Mount Wutai.

As the three pairs of zombie hands reached into the space around Tianxiong, six hands simultaneously erupted in white, acrid smoke, spreading a foul, fishy stench.

“What is this, kid? What do you have on you?” The hands of the three zombies were pierced by a burst of golden light. They recoiled instantly, severing their own attacked limbs to save themselves. The three zombies regrouped. “Don't think we’re scared just because you have a sutra! At worst, we won’t engage in close combat. Let’s see what other tricks we have for you.”

Just then, Dongzi slowly climbed up from the ground, furiously slapping at his head. Zhou Huan spat out a large mouthful of the dark, viscous fluid, then began breathing rapidly and coughed twice. “Tianxiong, since they fear the sutra, let’s give them a copy to study thoroughly.”

Upon hearing Zhou Huan say this, the three zombies immediately retreated a dozen steps backward, watching Zhou Huan’s every move intently. Before long, Zhou Huan’s color gradually returned. He had clearly been overwhelmed by the sudden absorption of the zombie's question and the strange flow pattern of the solidified blood, which caused him to collapse.

Shi Bingyuan, for his part, remained remarkably composed. The entire area was enveloped by his aura, bolstered by the collective yang energy of the living people. Any wandering ghost attempting entry would surely be repelled.