With a thunderous “Bang!”, the bullet grazed Ye Jingyu’s shoulder, slamming instead into a massive tree behind him, boring a clean, deep hole right through the wood…
A cold sweat broke out on Ye Jingyu’s back, but he immediately squeezed the trigger of his crossbow. Seven bolts flew in rapid succession, striking the zombie with almost no discernible effort, yet they only produced a series of metallic clangs before falling harmlessly away…
“Heh heh, I’m wearing chainmail, you can’t hit me…” The zombie chuckled, tearing open his outer garments to reveal the mail beneath. It completely shielded his torso and abdomen, linked only by a single chain at the shoulders—which explained how Ye Jingyu had managed to cleave him earlier…
“What the—I’m not playing by these rules, you son of a…” Ye Jingyu was furious, about to unleash a string of curses, when the thing raised a Desert Eagle and hammered several rounds toward him. The barrage forced the words back down his throat as Ye Jingyu twisted and dodged, narrowly avoiding the bullets on several occasions…
Only his sheer agility allowed him to evade them so easily. Any other Martial Master, perhaps even a Sect Master, would likely have been struck at this close range…
“Not bad speed, kid, almost catching up to mine. How about this, then?” The creature grinned wickedly, producing a compact submachine gun from nowhere…
“TP! TP…” Seeing the SMG, Ye Jingyu’s complexion instantly shifted, turning a sickly, alarming green—greener than spring grass, greener than any leaf…
Damn it! What in the world was happening? Fine, fighting a zombie was one thing, but a zombie wielding modern weaponry? How was he supposed to survive this?
In his panic, Ye Jingyu even blurted out English…
“Oh? You speak these bird languages too?” Upon hearing Ye Jingyu speak English, the zombie actually ceased fire, staring at him with undisguised curiosity…
“Yeah, not only do I speak English, I know that’s an SMG you’re holding, and that was a Desert Eagle just now. Listen, big brother, this is the Douhun Continent, not Earth. Where in the hell did you get this stuff?” Ye Jingyu stopped his evasive movements, facing the other with intense caution, his eyes clouded with confusion…
“Earth? That name sounds incredibly familiar?” The zombie scratched the back of his head, his expression thoughtful…
“Wait—don’t tell me you transmigrated from Earth too?” Seeing the zombie’s pensive look, Ye Jingyu calmed slightly, though he was intensely puzzled by the source of those weapons…
“Transmigrate? Please, you think this is some kind of web novel? Sir, I just remember waking up and this entire world had changed…” The zombie rolled his eyes, looking at Ye Jingyu as if he were an idiot…
“What’s your name?” Ye Jingyu was even more shocked. This thing knew about web novels…
“Liang Xiaoke…”
“Hmph, what a unique name…”
“You flatter me…” Liang Xiaoke lowered his head, a flush of shyness coloring his pale face with a miraculous touch of red…
“So, where are you from…”
“Forgotten,” Liang Xiaoke answered curtly…
“Where did you get that SMG?”
“Probably picked it up?” Liang Xiaoke sounded uncertain?
“Probably?”
“I slept for too long; I’ve forgotten so much. But vaguely, I remember my Master bestowed a drop of his blood upon me, and then I was slaughtered by the Daoist Sect members. I was just a little zombie back then, terrified of sunlight, let alone harming anyone. I could only sneak out at night to the hospital to steal blood until I gained some strength. Then I started seeking fresh blood, but fearing the Daoists, I could only go to battlefields, drinking the blood of those close to death. I must have picked these things up back then…” Liang Xiaoke recounted his tale with a tone of profound misery and bitterness…
Truly heartbreaking for any listener, but the thick-skinned, insensitive Ye Jingyu felt absolutely nothing…
“Where do you keep all this stuff?”
“In my Qiankun Ring. I pulled it off my Master’s corpse,” Liang Xiaoke replied, displaying a ring on his hand…
“What else do you remember?” Ye Jingyu had a growing certainty that his original world and this one were connected by some unseen thread, otherwise, how would this thing know all this?
“I can’t recall clearly. All I remember is being severely injured by the Daoists, fleeing somewhere to sleep, and when I woke up, the whole world had shifted. No more skyscrapers, no computers, no cars, no scantily clad women doing pole dances, no alluring ladies in black stockings, no specialty shops selling lace lingerie, no…”
“No youthful girls in bikinis, no classics from Maria Ozawa…” Liang Xiaoke hadn’t finished his list when Ye Jingyu cut in, his face now alight with extreme excitement…
“Right, right! And no seductive allure from Kaori Kitahara, no pure sincerity from Sora Aoi…”
“No Kyoko Kitahara’s teacher ethics, no Asha Gi a’s Angel Lace, no…”
The two began riffing off each other with enthusiasm, listing virtually every popular Japanese actress and her famous works…
Finally, they both finished the thought in unison: “The most depressing part is, damn it, there isn’t even the Jin Ping Mei!”
The moment the words fell, the man and the zombie froze, their eyes locking onto each other, and then they erupted into simultaneous, hearty laughter…
Such brilliant, unrestrained mirth…
They laughed until they were doubled over, until tears streamed down their faces…
“A kindred spirit!” one exclaimed, followed instantly by the other. Ye Jingyu tossed his crossbow aside, and Liang Xiaoke flung away his submachine gun. They charged toward each other and embraced, weeping openly…
“Brother…”
“Waaaaahhhhh…” The man and the corpse cried out loud in their mutual hold…
Tears sprayed forth like water from a broken pipe, and the force of their embrace was astonishingly powerful. Had their bodies not been tougher than average, their waists might have snapped from the grip…
But Ye Jingyu was now certain: this creature was absolutely not a native resident of this world, otherwise, he could never have known such things…
Putting Liang Xiaoke aside—he was a zombie, likely friendless in this realm—Ye Jingyu, despite having friends, brothers, and a lover, knew that none of them—not Luo Ruofeng, not Luo Ling’er, nor even the brilliant Zhuge Yishi—could possibly fathom that Ye Jingyu carried the soul of a man from another world or epoch.