For thirty years, he has roamed the Northeast, his divine might overwhelming all immortals under hea

The bluestone pavement was smashed and cracked. The Yin Corpse King lay on the ground struggling. The ball of soul fire in his chest was shaken and flickered. I could see clearly that the soul fire of my parents and Xiulian was the weakest, and was almost extinguished.

Anger exploded in my chest. I gripped the belt around my waist, which was soaked in rooster blood, and lunged forward.

The belt snapped in the air with a loud crack, striking the Shadow Corpse King hard across the face.

Chicken blood can subdue evil spirits. As soon as the whip fell, the face of the Yin Corpse King was instantly whipped to pieces, and black smoke billowed out. It let out a piercing roar and raised its hand to grab me.

"Lower your head!"

The old dog roared.

I immediately bent down, and the old dog stepped on the Shadow Corpse King's wrist, grinding it with force. The sound of bones shattering was extremely piercing.

He looked down at the corpse king, his bright yellow vertical pupils filled with ferocity. He bent down, grabbed the corpse king's hair, and pulled its head up sharply!

"Thirteen! Quick! Smash its skull!"

When I looked up, I saw that there was indeed a thick, impenetrable black aura on the top of the Yin Corpse King's head, which was the location of the Corpse Root!

Seeing this, the old man who raised corpses rushed over like a madman, holding a short knife stained with corpse oil, and stabbed straight at my lower back.

"You little brat! How dare you ruin my hard work!"

"court death!"

A gust of wind seemed to rush past my head. Without dodging or evading, I slapped the old man across the face with my backhand. The chicken blood from my belt splattered onto his skin, instantly burning him and causing him to scream in agony. The dagger clattered to the ground.

I kicked him into the black puddle, turned away and ignored him, grabbed a sharp blue stone slab from the ground, and with all my might, smashed it down on the top of the Yin Corpse King's head!

"Bang!"

A loud bang made my hand go numb.

The skull of the Yin Corpse King was smashed open, the black energy exploded instantly, its body convulsed violently, and it made a hoarse sound in its throat. Its movements stiffened at a visible speed, and in just two seconds, it became completely still, lying on the ground as a pile of rotten flesh.

The wisp of soul fire in his chest instantly detached from his body, floating lightly in mid-air, pulsating weakly yet steadily.

I was panting heavily when I dropped the stone slab and was about to catch the soul fire when a withered hand suddenly reached out from the black puddle at my feet and grabbed my ankle tightly!

The old man, his face covered in blood and black liquid, got up from the ground, his eyes completely mad, staring at me with a venomous roar.

"I'll kill you! My King of the Underworld! My Great Dao! I'll make you pay with your life!"

That withered, bony hand, stained with black water and filthy blood, gripped my ankle tightly. The knuckles turned bluish-black from the force, and the nails dug deep into my trouser leg. The icy chill seeped into my bones through the trouser leg, making my calf twitch.

The old man struggled to his feet from the sticky, black puddle. Half of his face was charred black from my belt whip, and blood smeared all over his cheeks. His originally cloudy, yellowish eyes were now swollen and bloodshot, like two balls of will-o'-the-wisp burning wildly, fixed on me. His resentment was so intense that it almost materialized and was about to tear me apart.

"I'll kill you... I'll kill you!"

He forced out broken roars from his throat, his voice no longer the sinister hoarseness of before, but a heart-wrenching madness, each word laced with blood and foam, spitting into the black water on the ground, hissing and rising into tiny black wisps of smoke.

With his other hand, he grabbed the short knife stained with corpse oil from the ground. He gripped the handle so tightly that it creaked, and the tip of the knife trembled as he pointed it at me. He was about to pounce on me with all his might.

Just as I was about to raise my hand, a dark figure had already darted in front of me a step ahead.

The old dog raised its foot, and the old man flew out like a bullet. Then, the dog stomped on the old man's wrist without mercy, with a force as heavy as a thousand pounds.

Click!

The crisp sound of bones cracking exploded in the deathly silent stone chamber, more piercing than any previous sound of bones breaking.

The old man let out a bloodcurdling scream, the dagger clattered to the ground, and his wrist bent at an eerie angle, as limp as a rotten reed.

He was in so much pain that his whole body was convulsing. He rolled around in the black puddle, his gray cloth jacket completely soaked in blood. He looked like a dead dog pulled out of a muddy pond. Even so, he kept cursing, his voice so shrill that it pierced the cave.

"My Corpse King... my life's work... you've ruined me... I'll make everyone in Zhujiakan pay with their lives! I'll make you all die! Die!!"

Old Dog frowned, a hint of impatience flashing in his bright yellow vertical pupils. He bent down and reached out, his large, hot hand grabbing the old man by the back of his neck, lifting him up like a chick about to be slaughtered.

The old man thrashed about in mid-air, his withered legs kicking wildly, but he couldn't even touch the old dog's clothes. He could only open his mouth, baring his rotten, yellow teeth, and spit on the old dog like a mad dog, spewing out filthy words and resentment.

"Behave yourself."

The old dog let out a cold shout, and with a slight exertion of force in his palm, a stream of pure and powerful yang energy flowed into the old man's body, specifically designed to counter evil and yin magic.

The old man's body stiffened abruptly, as if he had been branded with a scalding hot iron. He let out a sharp shriek, and most of the yin energy surrounding him was instantly dispersed. His originally crazed eyes cleared for a brief moment, but even in that clarity, there was still an intense, unyielding hatred.

The old dog slammed him hard to the ground, and he spat out a mouthful of black blood, lying on the ground for a long time, unable to get up.

He stepped on the old man's back with a light touch, but it locked his meridians, rendering him unable to use any evil magic. The old man could only lie paralyzed on the spot, panting heavily, whimpering in his throat like a trapped old beast.

After the fierce battle, all my strength was almost drained. The areas on my arms where the Yin Corpse King's Yin energy had swept over them were still cold and numb, and my fingertips were still trembling slightly.

But when I looked up at the ball of soul fire floating in mid-air in the center of the stone chamber, all my weariness and fear were instantly suppressed, and only burning urgency remained in my heart.

That wisp of soul fire floated lightly, a translucent white shadow wrapped in a faint halo; it was the soul of my parents, Xiulian, and the other villagers of Zhujiakan.

They had been imprisoned by the Corpse King for too long, and their souls had become so weak that they were almost dissipating. My mother's soul fire was the weakest, floating in the middle, swaying slightly, as if it would be blown out by the cold wind in the stone chamber at any moment; my father's soul fire was slightly stronger, but it was also stiff and motionless, without any trace of a living person; Xiulian's soul fire was curled up to the side, her face as pale as paper, her eyes tightly closed, a sight that made one's heart ache.

"Thirteen, quickly retrieve the soul! Delay will only lead to trouble!"

Huang Dalang urged me urgently in my mind, his tone filled with an unprecedented seriousness.

"This stone chamber is too filled with yin energy; the soul fire won't last long. Use the yang blood of your shamanic disciple to guide the soul and collect it into the soul bag!"

I snapped out of my daze and quickly reached into my pocket, where a small bag appeared.

The Soul Bag is specially designed to hold living souls and protect them from dissipation.

This thing looks like an ordinary cloth bag.

I gritted my teeth, bit my fingertip until it bled, and fresh yang energy surged out from it. I raised my hand and aimed my bleeding fingertip at the soul fire in mid-air, chanting the Ma family's Soul-Gathering Incantation. My voice trembled slightly with excitement, but every word was clear.

"Heaven, return to your place! Earth, return to your place! Human souls, return to your place! Lost souls, heed my command! Quickly enter the soul bag for peace and security!"

The yang blood at the fingertips emitted a faint warm light, like a gentle thread that softly held the ball of soul fire.

The previously flickering soul flames seemed to have found their home, drifting slowly along the warm light, one after another, gently and deftly slipping into the soul pouch.

I clutched the soul bag tightly, feeling a faint warmth emanating from it—the warmth of my family's souls. At that moment, the anxiety that had gripped me all night finally eased, and my eyes welled up with tears that almost spilled over.

"Father, Mother, Xiulian, I've found you. I'm taking you home."

I carefully put the soul pouch away and tucked it into my bosom, pressing it close to my heart, as if I could feel the faint breaths of my family through the cloth. I turned to look at the old man being trampled on by the old dog on the ground, and the anger in my heart surged up again. I walked step by step to him, squatted down, stared at him intently, and spoke in a voice as cold as the northwest wind outside the cave.

"Who are you? Why are you raising corpses to kill? Why are you stealing the souls of the people of Zhujiakan? What grudge do you have against Zhujiakan?"

The old man lay on the ground, his back stepped on by the old dog, unable to move. He slowly raised his head, his charred face covered in mud and blood, his bloodshot eyes staring intently at me, a strange and mournful smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

He didn't answer immediately, but instead let out a low, intermittent sneer, a laugh filled with endless sorrow and resentment that echoed in the empty stone chamber, sending chills down one's spine.

The old dog pressed down slightly with its feet and said in a cold voice.

"Tell me the truth when I ask you a question."

The old man groaned in pain, finally ceasing his sneer. He slowly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, a layer of cloudy tears welled up in his bloodshot eyes.

Tears mingled with the blood on his face, streaming down and leaving two shallow streaks on his filthy skin, looking particularly eerie.

"Zhujiakan...Zhujiakan..."

He murmured those three words repeatedly, each one seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying a deep-seated hatred.

"I hate Zhujiakan... I hate everyone... I wish I could skin them alive, tear them apart, grind their bones to dust, and make them all be buried with my family!"

I frowned and shouted sternly.

"What have we, the people of Zhujiakan, done to offend you? Why are you resorting to such a vicious method of revenge?"

"You've messed with me?"

The old man suddenly opened his eyes, his voice rising abruptly and becoming hysterical.

"They didn't just provoke me! They killed my entire family! They drove me to ruin, leaving me destitute and separated from my family! I barely escaped, but I'm now a monstrous, inhuman creature. I've remembered this blood debt for forty years! Forty years!"

Forty years?

I was startled.

Forty years ago, in the 1940s, was a time of war and chaos.

My father once mentioned to me that there was a disaster and some unrest in Zhujiakan in the 1940s, but I never knew exactly what happened.

"Who exactly are you?"

I pressed for an answer.

The old man stared at the black moss on the ceiling of the stone chamber, his gaze drifting into the distance, as if he had returned to those unbearable years forty years ago.

"My surname is not Wang, nor is it Li. My surname is Zhu, and my name is Zhu Shouyi. I am a native of Zhujiakan. My family is an old household in Zhujiakan."

Zhu Shouyi?

When he said that, I froze on the spot.

Zhujiakan.

The reason this place is called Zhujiakan instead of Lijiakan or Wangjiakan is because the Zhu family was a large, wealthy, and influential family back then, hence the name Zhujiakan.

In Zhujiakan, there are quite a few families with the surname Zhu. However, as far as I know, the older households in Zhujiakan, going back three generations, are basically all branches of the same ancestor, and they are all related to each other to some extent.

But I've never heard my father mention any family in Zhujiakan that was wiped out forty years ago.

The old man lay on the ground, his back stepped on by the old dog, unable to move, but his bloodshot eyes welled up with a layer of cloudy tears.

He stared at the black moss on the ceiling of the stone chamber, his gaze drifting into the distance, as if he had returned to those unbearable years forty years ago.

His voice gradually lowered, no longer a mad roar, but carrying a deep-seated sorrow and resentment, each word telling a story of a blood feud buried in the past.

"My family lived at the eastern end of Zhujiakan, at the foot of the mountain. We had three mud-brick houses and a large courtyard with two crabapple trees and a pear tree. My father was an honest farmer who never left Zhujiakan in his entire life. My mother was mute and couldn't speak, but she was kinder than anyone else. Whenever someone was in trouble, she was always the first to rush to help."

As he spoke, a smile appeared on his lips, a smile that was warm, but it quickly turned into endless sorrow.

"When I was nineteen, I married a girl from the neighboring village. Her surname was Zhou, and her name was Zhou Cuier. Cuier wasn't particularly beautiful, but she had gentle eyes and a soft nature. After we got married, she served my parents and managed the household chores without ever uttering a word of complaint. The following year, she gave birth to a son for me, whom I named Zhu Chuangen, meaning to carry on the family line and ensure its continuity. Holding my son, I was so happy that I couldn't sleep for days and nights. I felt that my life had been worthwhile. Having parents, a wife, and a son, and living a peaceful life tending to a few acres of land, was the greatest blessing I could have."

His voice trembled, and tears mixed with the blood on his face streamed down, leaving two shallow streaks on his filthy face.

"That year was 1943, the 32nd year of the Republic of China. It was a time of war and chaos. The Japanese were still there, and the Bearded Men were causing trouble. Zhujiakan was remote, far from the reach of the emperor, so the Japanese hadn't come yet, but the Bearded Men would come to cause trouble every now and then. In order to protect themselves, the people of Zhujiakan pooled their money to hire artillerymen to guard their homes and built an earthen wall at the entrance of the village. But those Bearded Men were very cunning. They never attacked head-on, but instead came to steal grain during the autumn harvest."

As I listened, my heart sank deeper and deeper.

Although I didn't experience those years myself, I've heard the village elders talk about them, and it was indeed the most chaotic time. The Japanese occupied the county town, the bearded men occupied the hilltops, and the common people were caught in the middle, suffering from both sides. Just being able to survive was a stroke of luck.

Zhu Shouyi continued speaking, his voice sounding as if it were being squeezed out from deep within his throat.

"That autumn, the grain had just been harvested and hadn't even been stored in the granary when a group of bearded men arrived. The leader was nicknamed 'The Eagle Over the Mountain,' and he had forty or fifty men under his command, all riding horses and carrying guns. Under the cover of night, they bypassed the earthen walls, sneaked into the village, and went from house to house smashing doors and looting grain. My family's yard was on the east side, far from the village entrance, so we weren't robbed by the first group. My father hid the grain in the cellar, covered it with boards, and piled up firewood, thinking we could escape."

"But little did we know, there was a traitor within the village."

As he said this, his eyes widened suddenly, filled with hatred, like a poisoned knife.

"In Zhujiakan, there was a guy named Zhu Laowai who hooked up with a bearded man. He would take the bearded man and go from house to house pointing out who had hidden grain and who had a daughter. He knew everything about them. When they came to my house, Zhu Laowai pointed to the cellar and said, 'There's grain hidden here.' The bearded man cleared away the firewood, lifted the boards, and stole all the grain. Not a single grain was left."