Zombie Life Begins in Hongxi Village

The Qinghai monk reached into his robes and pulled out a palm-sized object.

It was a ritual implement made from a child's skull, its surface gleaming with a dark yellow patina from years of wear.

The edges of his eye sockets and nostrils were rubbed smooth and shiny, and a circle of Tantric mantras was engraved on the top of his head, gleaming with a cold light in the midday sun.

This thing is clearly not legitimate—the authentic kapala of the Gelug school of Tibetan Buddhism is just a skull, while this kapala is obviously used for performing evil magic and is an evil artifact strictly prohibited by the Gelug school.

But the Qinghai monk clearly had no intention of following any rules at this moment.

He bit his index finger, squeezed out a drop of dark red blood onto the kapala, and began chanting a soul-snatching spell as his lips moved rapidly.

The incantation was low and deep, as if it were squeezed out from a crack in the ground, and each syllable carried a cold, sucking force.

The mantras on the kapala lit up layer by layer as the incantation was recited.

Two eerie green will-o'-the-wisps suddenly lit up in the two empty eye sockets.

The entire head seemed to come alive, letting out a silent shriek in Lin Yi's direction.

The Soul-Snatching Curse, as the name suggests, is specifically designed to snatch a person's soul.

The Qinghai monk's logic was simple: Lin Yi said he killed five evil spirits with his fists, which was something no ordinary person could do.

In the Qinghai sorcerer's understanding, there is only one possibility for someone who can shatter evil spirits with their fists—a master of the art of summoning spirits.

The summoning of spirits can greatly increase the caster's power and grant them the ability to kill invisible ghosts.

However, the cost is that the soul is relatively weak, because being possessed by deities for many years will cause the soul to be repeatedly squeezed, making its foundation unstable.

The Soul-Snatching Curse is the most effective way to deal with the weaknesses of these people.

A cold smile had already appeared on the lips of the Qinghai monk.

He waited to see the young man who had ruined his plans kneel on the ground, his eyes glazed over, his soul sucked away by the kapala.

Then he saw Lin Yi still smiling at him, showing no sign of being bewitched.

The monk Qinghai's sneer froze on his face. He looked down at the kapala in his palm, then looked up at Lin Yi's slightly smiling eyes. An absurd thought flashed through his mind—could the kapala be broken?

Impossible. He has nurtured this magical artifact for forty years without ever making a mistake.

He suddenly unleashed another wave of magical power, causing the ghostly fire in Kapala's eye sockets to double in size, and the silent shriek to become even more piercing.

But Lin Yi remained standing there, tilting her head and looking at him with an expression as if she were watching a street performer or a monkey trainer.

Lin Yi really wanted to laugh.

This old monk actually wanted to take his soul?

He is a second-generation zombie, a demigod whose body was modified by the bloodline of Pangu, and whose celestial soul had long been transformed into a divine soul.

His soul and body were bound together. Not to mention a broken skull, even if you brought the soul-reaping rope from the underworld, you might not be able to pull him out of this body.

Even if the Qinghai sorcerer used magic to fight him head-on, it would be a hundred times better than using a soul-snatching spell.

But he did not give the Qinghai monk time to correct his mistakes.

As the Qinghai sorcerer unleashed the second wave of incantation, Lin Yi's hand already held a tortoise shell pistol.

This gun, which was seized from the Ping'an County Military Police, had been gathering dust in my Qiankun Ring until today, when it finally came in handy.

The dark muzzle of the gun was raised, aimed, and the trigger was pulled.

Bang bang bang.

The four gunshots rang out almost simultaneously, the bullets piercing precisely through the Qinghai monk's shoulders and knees.

Lin Yi's reaction speed was several times faster than that of an ordinary person; by the time the Qinghai monk sensed the danger, it was too late.

Before he could dodge, bullets pierced his limbs, and he lost his balance and fell backward onto the dirt road.

pat.

The kapala rolled out from between his loosened fingers, tumbled to the side of the road, and came to rest in a pile of rubble.

The Qinghai monk lay on the dirt road, blood gushing from the bullet holes in his limbs, staining his plain robes terribly.

He looked up at the sky, his expression not one of pain, but of utter disbelief—not of fear of death, but of an inability to accept the reality.

He was a disciple of the Gelug school of Tibetan Buddhism, who had practiced for nearly sixty years, yet he was shot down by a gun.

"You actually used a gun?" The Qinghai monk's voice became somewhat hoarse, each word seeming to be spat out from between his teeth.

"Do you have even the slightest bit of dignity befitting a cultivator? Do you have no bottom line at all?!"

Lin Yi raised the barrel of the Turtle Box to his mouth and blew away the wisp of gunpowder smoke rising from the muzzle.

He looked down at the Qinghai monk on the ground, his face full of resentment, and a slight smile appeared on his lips: "How can you become a grandmaster if you have a gun and don't use it? Besides—"

His gaze swept over the kalapala that had rolled into the pile of rubble, and his eyes revealed undisguised disgust.

"And what about you? Doesn't the Gelug school of Tibetan Buddhism strictly prohibit evil practices? What right do you have to talk to me about modesty? What right do you have to talk to me about bottom lines? You've completely disgraced the Gelug school."

The monk from Qinghai trembled, unable to speak.

Does he expect him to say that no one would know after he killed Lin Yi?

Lin Yi didn't give him another chance to speak.

She dropped her nonchalant expression, instantly appeared beside him, grabbed his head, and pressed it down.

The black eye membranes were covered by a thick emerald green, and two fangs protruded from the upper jaw, gleaming coldly in the midday sun.

The Qinghai monk's pupils suddenly contracted.

He finally understood why this person was not afraid of the Soul-Snatching Curse.

These are fucking zombies! And not just any zombies, but an unknown species of zombie even more terrifying than flying zombies!

If he had known beforehand that the other party was a zombie, he would definitely have used the most powerful Vajrabhairava Exorcism Technique instead of the Soul-Snatching Curse.

Empiricism is a killer!

"You...you are not human..." Master Qinghai squeezed out these words through clenched teeth, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

These were the last words he ever spoke. Lin Yi's fangs pierced the artery on the side of his neck with pinpoint accuracy.

The moment the blood rushed into her throat, Lin Yi's pupils dilated slightly.

The blood of Qinghai is like wine aged for eighty years, so mellow it's almost viscous, every drop containing the weight of time and the essence of Tantric practice.

The energy surged down the throat into the stomach, where it was rapidly broken down, devoured, and transformed by the Pangu bloodline, spreading throughout the body.

The parched void in his blood was being filled at a visible speed—20%, 30%... 60%.

He alone filled nearly half of the void in his bloodline, making him more than ten times better than that half-baked feng shui master.

The Qinghai monk's body was rapidly withering away.

The face, which had been well-maintained like that of a man in his thirties, collapsed within seconds, the skin clinging to the bone, and the eye sockets sunken into two black holes.

His essence has been completely drained, leaving only an empty shell.

Lin Yisong opened her mouth, straightened up, and let out a long howl.

The roar was like a dragon's cry or a tiger's howl, carrying an overwhelming sense of pressure from the depths of his bloodline, sweeping outwards from him in all directions.

The wild grass on the wasteland was flattened by the sound waves, and the gravel by the roadside trembled slightly.

He felt the power within him surging wildly upwards, his muscles swelling, his bones buzzing, and his blood rushing through his veins more than twice as fast as usual.

He even had the illusion that he could punch a hole in the sky.

However, he still retained enough rationality to know that this was purely an illusion caused by the surge in power.

He's still a second-generation zombie, far from reaching the level of "one punch to open the heavens".

"After absorbing a few more cultivators, my bloodline will be complete," Lin Yi muttered to himself, looking down at the withered corpse of the Qinghai monk.

He quickly went through the list of potential targets in his mind—

What Lin Yi didn't know was that while he was plotting how to find his next target, the Qinghai monk wasn't completely dead yet.

Deep within the ancestral aperture of that withered corpse, the Qinghai monk's celestial soul was curled up into a faint point of light.

The life soul, earth soul, and seven spirits dissipated as the blood was drained, but the heavenly soul remained.

The Qinghai monk was, after all, a person who had cultivated for decades and was capable of plotting possession.

His soul was far stronger than that of ordinary cultivators. Although he had not yet developed divine will, he was already able to survive briefly outside his body.

If Lin Yi hadn't drained his blood, his three souls and seven spirits could have survived for at least 24 hours, enough time for him to find a suitable body to possess.

But now the ancestral aperture is collapsing.

This spiritual space, located deep within the brow, was originally as stable as a mountain, but with the death of the physical body and the depletion of vital energy, its boundaries are cracking and collapsing at a visible speed.

The Qinghai monk's soul was curled up in the deepest part of his ancestral aperture, not daring to move.

He knew Lin Yi was still outside. If he dared to emerge from the ancestral aperture, this demon would definitely find him and then slap him until his soul was scattered.

Hiding in the ancestral aperture is also a dead end.

In a quarter of an hour at most, his ancestral aperture will completely collapse, and his heavenly soul will be crushed along with it—but at least there will still be a sliver of a chance for reincarnation.

But if it falls into Lin Yi's hands, it will be completely annihilated, without even a chance to be reincarnated.

The Qinghai monk had lived for nearly eighty years and had never longed for someone to leave as much as he did now.

But Lin Yi just wouldn't leave.

Instead of leaving, he moved a rock to sit by the roadside, crossed his legs, and looked like he was leisurely waiting for someone.

After experiencing the ghostly transformation of the feng shui master Wang Teng after his death, Lin Yi set an ironclad rule for himself: after killing someone, he must guard the corpse.

The probability of a Taoist practitioner turning into a ghost after death is too high. If you don't keep an eye on the corpse until it turns to ashes, who knows what other strange things might happen.

Although it's broad daylight, and theoretically it's difficult for spirits to manifest in broad daylight, it's always better to be cautious. Besides, I'm just idling around anyway, and soaking up the sun is quite pleasant.

The Qinghai monk inside the ancestral aperture is almost going mad—

"What terrible karma! How could I, from Qinghai, have encountered such a terrifying demon? Is this Buddha's punishment for me?!"

His celestial soul was squeezed to its limit by the collapsing space, and every second felt like walking a tightrope on a knife's edge.

But he dared not move, because Lin Yi's gaze never left his corpse.

Finally, just before the ancestral aperture was about to completely collapse, the Qinghai Master's celestial soul made its final choice.

Rushing out would surely mean certain death, with no chance of even being reincarnated. Dying in the ancestral aperture at least offers a chance for reincarnation.

In the end, the Qinghai monk died in frustration within the collapsing ancestral aperture.

Half an hour later, Lin Yi stood up.

After guarding the body for half an hour, there was no unusual change, not even a hint of will-o'-the-wisp. It seemed that the old monk was truly dead.

He walked over to the corpse, squatted down, and began to touch it.

The monk from Qinghai was very clean, carrying nothing but a string of dark brown prayer beads and a few silver dollars.

Lin Yi tucked the silver dollar into his pocket, picked up the Buddhist prayer beads and looked at them—the beads were made of an unknown type of wood, with a thick patina on the surface, and you could feel a faint warmth when you held them in your hand.

This is probably the magical artifact that the Qinghai monk used to kill the demon fetus in the drama.

—It's good stuff, keep it.

As for the other things, he probably put them in the coffin at the mortuary, so there's no rush to get them.

I'll go look for some good stuff another day.

A green light flashed in Lin Yi's eyes, and he teleported back to the Yun County Marshal's Mansion. He picked up a bucket of gasoline and teleported back again. He poured gasoline on the dried corpse of the Qinghai monk and the kapala that had rolled into the pile of rubble, and then lit a match and threw it on top.

With a loud bang, flames shot up, and a column of black smoke stood out conspicuously in the midday sun.

Lin Yi stood beside the fire, watching the Qinghai monk's body slowly turn into charcoal in the flames, and a feeling that was hard to describe welled up in her heart.

This follower of the Gelug school of Tibetan Buddhism, who schemed his entire life, ultimately died by a gun, without even a proper burial. One should never be too arrogant; when the time comes to finish him off, you must.