Joining Tiandao Company: Starting by mending a zombie world

Chapter 305: Clearing Demons and Refining Zombies

The moonlight shone on the green pine ridge, making the snow appear as white as paper.

The group of more than 30 people wound their way up the mountain along the narrow path, the snow under their feet reaching above their ankles, each step making a dull crunching sound.

Chu Sheng followed in the middle of the group, with the pockmarked boy on his left and Xia Xiaochuan on his right.

The boy hadn't uttered a word since he came up the mountain, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his head bowed, as if he were hiding from something.

After being scolded by his master Ye Yanzhou, Xia Xiaochuan became much more obedient and dared not speak loudly anymore, only occasionally stealing glances at Chu Sheng out of the corner of his eye.

Shi Fang, who was walking at the front, suddenly stopped and silently raised his right hand, making a "stop" gesture.

The entire team froze instantly.

In the snowstorm, only the howling wind could be heard on the mountain ridge. More than thirty people held their breath and remained focused, even the faint sound of weapons clashing disappeared.

Shi Fang didn't turn around, but slowly placed his left hand on the hilt of his sword.

He made this movement very slowly, as if he were caressing a fragile piece of porcelain, but Chu Sheng noticed that the index and middle fingers of his right hand had already separated slightly—a sign that he was about to draw his sword.

"There's some noise ahead," Ye Yanzhou suddenly whispered, his ears twitching slightly.

The Kung Fu of Ke Xiang Men emphasizes listening to the wind and identifying locations. In terms of hearing, among the thirty-odd people present, he was second to none.

Wu Zun gripped the black iron ring wrapped around his wrist and asked in a low voice, "What is that?"

Ye Yanzhou closed his eyes, listened intently for a moment, and when he opened them again, his expression had changed: "The chewing sound is the sound of teeth crushing bones."

Everyone's expression changed.

Shi Fang waved his hand, signaling everyone to disperse, and then took the lead, moving forward more than ten steps before hiding behind a snow-covered boulder.

Chu Sheng followed, squatted down beside him, and poked half his head out from the edge of the rock.

Under the moonlight, the view in front of the mountain ridge was unobstructed.

It was a rocky slope covered with snow, and seven or eight corpses of Qing soldiers of the Plain White Banner lay scattered on it.

A dark figure was crouching among the corpses, its back to the group, gnawing on something.

The dark figure was tearing flesh off a human head's cheek and stuffing it into its mouth.

Each chew produces a crisp sound of bone breaking.

"Click. Click. Click."

The sound wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear on this quiet mountain ridge, like a dull saw pulling back and forth in everyone's heart.

Xia Xiaochuan also crept up at some point, lying behind Chu Sheng, his face pale, his lips trembling as he tried to speak, but Ye Yanzhou covered his mouth.

"Look carefully before you speak." Ye Yanzhou's tone was as cold as ice.

Chu Sheng stared at the figure for a moment, his pupils gradually contracting.

He opened his discerning eyes and immediately recognized that the thing was not human, but a zombie.

Yet, its movements were far more agile than those of ordinary zombies, more like something between the living and the dead—retaining the agility of the living but losing all the emotions of the living.

"This thing is strange; it's not an ordinary zombie," he said.

Shi Fang didn't reply, but just stared at the figure, his gaze as sharp as two knives.

He slowly drew the ebony sword from his waist. The blade did not reflect the moonlight, but only showed a very faint dark gold color.

"Let's do it," he said.

The words had barely left his mouth when Wu Zun charged forward. The Iron Fist Sect members never bothered with tactical coordination; they only believed in their fists. Two black iron rings traced arcs of light in the moonlight. Wu Zun roared, and his first move, "Mountain Moving," slammed down on the back of the dark figure's head.

His iron ring weighed thirty-two pounds, and the force of its smash was no less than a thousand pounds. An ordinary zombie would have its head smashed into a rotten melon if it were hit by it.

But the dark figure did not turn around.

It merely tilted its head slightly, as if it had eyes in the back of its head, precisely avoiding the impact of the iron ring. Wu Zun's fist grazed its earlobe before slamming into the snow, causing the snow to explode and scattering gravel.

The dark figure lunged forward, bracing itself with its hands on the ground, and turned around in an extremely bizarre posture.

The moonlight finally illuminated its face.

It was a bloodless face, its skin ashen and taut, its lips dry and curled up, revealing a set of uneven, yellow teeth. Its eyes were not the murky gray-white of ordinary zombies, but a deep, dark red, like two congealed beads of blood.

But what's most eye-catching isn't its face, but its back.

On its back, at the position of its shoulder blades, there are two fist-sized protrusions that make its tattered clothes bulge outwards, like two wings locked in a leather bag, struggling to arch outwards.

Chu Sheng's pupils suddenly contracted.

"Flying zombie." He squeezed out the two words through gritted teeth.

Everyone present changed their expressions.

Flying zombies are a variant among zombies. A hundred-year-old zombie becomes a white zombie, which moves slowly but has immense strength. A white zombie that has absorbed enough moonlight for a hundred years can turn into a black zombie, with hair covering its face to avoid sunlight.

After a hundred years, a black zombie can transform into a jumping zombie, which moves with lightning speed and can dodge ordinary weapons.

Above the flying zombies was the Corpse King.

"How could there be flying zombies here?" Xia Xiaochuan exclaimed. "Flying zombies need at least a thousand years of cultivation—"

"Nobody said it was cultivated," Chu Sheng interrupted Xia Xiaochuan, his gaze fixed on the bony bulge on the flying zombie's back.

"It was created."

"Created?" Shi Fang turned his head, a hint of horror flashing in his incredibly bright eyes for the first time. "Who could create a flying zombie?"

Chu Sheng did not answer. His gaze passed over the flying zombie, landing on Shi Fangyi, and he coldly uttered two words: "Qing Yao!"

The moment he finished speaking, the flying zombie moved instantly.

It didn't pounce or jump, but glided across the snow at an almost ghostly speed, exuding a terrifying killing intent, and soon arrived in front of a disciple of the Iron Fist Sect.

The disciple reacted quickly, letting out a shout as he crossed his arms to protect his chest, the black iron rings on his wrists gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

This is the Iron Fist School's signature defensive technique – "Iron Bolt," where the arms act like bolts, capable of withstanding a thousand pounds of force.

The flying zombie didn't confront him directly; instead, it reached out a hand and gently pressed it against his chest.

Five grayish-white fingers, with nails as black as ink, silently sank into the disciple's chest.

Before the disciple's astonishment could spread, his entire face withered at a visible speed—his skin withered, his eyeballs sunken, his lips curled up, revealing two rows of gleaming white teeth.

In less than a breath, a living person was turned into a skin and bones, a dried-up corpse, without even having time to utter a scream.

The flying zombie casually tossed the dried corpse three zhang away, where it crashed into an old pine tree and scattered into a pile of broken bones with a crash.

Then it turned around, and the moonlight illuminated its expressionless face. A trace of fresh blood clung to the corner of its mouth, as if it had just drunk hot soup and was licking its tongue with lingering satisfaction.

"Scatter!" Shi Fangyi shouted sharply, "Don't let it touch your body!"