Zombie Life Begins in Hongxi Village

The next second, Lin Yi appeared directly in the main hall of the mortuary.

At this moment, everyone had just finished discussing the division of labor for catching the ghost that night.

Lin Yi's figure appeared out of thin air next to the main seat, without any warning, as if a frame of a scene had been forcibly edited in.

"Who is it?"

The main hall erupted in chaos.

The closest Taoist priests almost instinctively jumped back. Some frantically drew their peach wood swords, while others took out talismans from their robes. In an instant, the main hall was filled with the sounds of clashing magical artifacts and exclamations of surprise.

Shi Jian's reaction was the most swift. He flipped his hands, and lightning crackled from his palms, with electric arcs leaping between his fingers.

"Don't make a move, everyone! I know this person!" Uncle Nine recognized the man's face and his heart skipped a beat. He quickly spread his arms to block the crowd.

Upon hearing this, everyone looked at each other in bewilderment, but still chose to believe Uncle Nine and relaxed.

Shi Jian snorted coldly, the lightning in his palm receded a bit, but did not completely dissipate, and his hawk-like eyes stared intently at Lin Yi.

He is proficient in lightning magic and can teleport hundreds of meters in an instant using lightning escape techniques.

But the young man in front of them appeared out of thin air, silently, in the closed main hall, surrounded by more than thirty Taoist priests.

He couldn't do that.

"Ah Yi, what are you doing here?" Uncle Jiu asked.

He had mixed feelings about this "little love rival." He knew that Lin Yi couldn't be blamed for this, but he just couldn't face the man who had stolen his white moonlight with a normal attitude.

In just two years, he had already experienced the pain of losing his first love twice.

Lin Yi ignored him.

He walked straight to the head seat at the very top of the main hall, turned around and sat down.

Before anyone could react, he activated the Hades mark between his eyebrows—

A blue light, like a miniature sunset, suddenly illuminated the main hall.

At the same time, he released his zombie ancestor's aura without reservation.

It was as if most of the air in the main hall had been sucked away in an instant, making each breath difficult and heavy.

Within seconds, more than thirty Taoist priests knelt down in unison, their knees hitting the blue brick floor with a series of dull thuds.

Only four people were still able to stand.

Shi Jian clenched his fists, the lightning in his palms was suppressed into weak sparks, and the veins on his forehead bulged.

But he refused to kneel, his eyes filled with resentment and shock.

Uncle Nine leaned against the offering table for support. He was closest to the main seat and therefore bore the most pressure. His Taoist robe vest was already soaked with sweat.

The Taoist priest with four eyes and another fat Taoist priest with a mustache stood back to back beside a pillar in the hall, barely managing to stay upright, but their legs were trembling violently.

Shi Jian felt his magic power was somewhat sluggish. He never thought that one day he would be suppressed to the point of being unable to breathe by mere aura.

"Who is this great master who has graced us with his presence? How does Old Nine know such a great master?" He suddenly felt a little jealous of Uncle Nine.

Just then, the statue of the patriarch at the back of the main hall suddenly lit up.

A beam of light shot out from between the statue's eyebrows, transforming in mid-air into the figure of a middle-aged man dressed in scholar's robes with three long strands of beard.

He had a thin face, a judge's pen hanging at his waist, and was surrounded by a faint incense-like divine light. He was none other than Wang Yunpeng, the master of Shi Jian and Uncle Jiu.

This statue of the patriarch contains a wisp of his divine consciousness, which is usually dormant and only stirs slightly when he receives incense offerings during festivals.

But at this moment, the divine might of Hades enveloped the entire mortuary, and this aura directly awakened the perception within one's divine sense.

The moment Wang Yunpeng appeared, before he could even glance at his disciples and grand-disciples, he sensed the overwhelming pressure emanating from the main seat that sent shivers down his spine.

He turned around abruptly and saw the Hades mark between Lin Yi's eyebrows. His expression changed from shock to fear, and then from fear to utmost respect.

He strode forward and bowed deeply to Lin Yi: "Wang Yunpeng, the Vice Prefect under Judge Zhong, pays his respects to His Majesty the King of the Underworld."

This wasn't the first time Wang Yunpeng had met Lin Yi.

A few months ago, when Lin Yi came to the mortuary, he sensed an extremely dangerous aura. At that time, he chose to pretend to be deaf and dumb—if he couldn't afford to offend her, he could at least avoid her.

But he never expected that just a few months later, the person who made him feel dangerous would become Hades.

That's the King of the Underworld, an existence on par with the Emperor of Fengdu, and the boss of Zhong Kui's boss.

Even if Master Tao himself came, let alone a mere sixth-rank magistrate, he would still have to bow respectfully.

"Get up." Lin Yi withdrew her oppressive aura and raised her hand.

The suffocating divine power receded like the tide, and the air in the main hall became breathable again.

The Taoist priests kneeling on the ground were panting heavily. Some were leaning against the wall and barely managed to stand up, while others were slumped on the ground with their legs still weak.

However, just as everyone stood up and before they could even brush the dust off their knees, Lin Yi handed Wang Yunpeng the merit and demerit books of Shi Jian, Uncle Jiu, and others.

"Take a look at this first."

Wang Yunpeng took the book, flipped through a few pages, and his respectful expression was instantly replaced by a gloomy one.

He turned the pages one by one, his expression growing more grim with each page he turned.

When he turned to the last page, his fingers were trembling—not from fear, but from anger and disappointment.

"Lin Fengjiao, Shi Jian, you two kneel down!" Wang Yunpeng slammed the merit and demerit book shut and roared with a gloomy expression.

Uncle Nine and Shih Kin looked at each other, wondering why their master had suddenly become angry.

But they could not disobey their master's orders, so the two stepped forward and knelt down straight in front of the statue of their patriarch.

"Godfather, what's wrong—" Qiu Sheng was interrupted by Wang Yunpeng's loud shout before he could finish speaking.

"Shut up! I'll deal with you later!"

Wang Yunpeng pointed at Qiu Sheng's nose, his finger trembling. His usually refined and scholarly face was now filled with anger and disappointment.

He turned around, looked at his two prized students kneeling on the ground, and squeezed out each word through clenched teeth:

"I have always regarded you as the hope for the revival of Maoshan and have doted on you. Is this how you repay me?"

Look for yourselves at what's written in your merit and demerit books!

He got angrier and angrier as he spoke, pointing his finger at the two of them and cursing for a full ten minutes.

"Given your current situation, I'd be happy to die peacefully, let alone expect you to revive Maoshan. I shouldn't have wasted so many resources on you in the first place!"

Shi Jian's face turned pale and then red.

He has been the leader of the Maoshan Sect for so many years, and his word is law. When has he ever been scolded like this?

But it was his master who scolded him, and his master was still holding the merit and demerit book. He didn't know what was written in the merit and demerit book that could make his master so angry.

Uncle Nine was also filled with grievances; he had no idea what he had done wrong from beginning to end.

The Thousand Ghosts Parade was Qiu Shengwen's fault, and he had tried his best to make amends, so why did his master scold him as well?

"You can see for yourselves," Wang Yunpeng said, having finished his tirade, and then tossed the book of merits and demerits to them.

Uncle Nine caught the Book of Merits and Demerits and turned to the first page.

He glanced at it once, and his expression changed completely—it wasn't anger, but a chilling coldness that welled up from the bottom of his heart.

He read on, line by line, and with each page he turned, his eyes grew dimmer.

When he saw the list of casualties caused by Qiu Shengwencai, his fingers trembled slightly, but then steadied themselves.

It wasn't because he was calm, but because he had suppressed all his emotions inside.

He closed the book of merits and demerits, shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and then slowly opened them.

Those eyes no longer held the warmth and indulgence they once showed when looking at Qiu Sheng and Wen Cai; instead, they held a cold, almost indifferent scrutiny.

Qiu Sheng and Wen Cai were standing in the corner, hunching their shoulders and secretly observing Uncle Jiu's expression.

Uncle Nine turned around and walked towards them.

Qiu Sheng and Wen Cai opened their mouths, wanting to say something, but when they met Uncle Jiu's gaze, all the words got stuck in their throats.

They had never seen their master look at them with such eyes before. It wasn't anger or disappointment, but something even more chilling—abandonment.

Shi Jian also saw the contents of the merit and demerit book.

His expression was far more grim than Uncle Nine's, because he saw not only his son's crimes, but also the line in his own judgment: "He failed to properly educate his son and allowed him to commit adultery."

Shi Jian stared at his son for a long time, countless emotions flashing in his eyes—anger, guilt, resentment, regret—all of which finally turned into a resolute look.

"Qiu Sheng, Wen Cai, and Shi Shaojian have their cultivation abolished and are expelled from Maoshan."

Wang Yunpeng's voice rang out in the main hall, like the tolling of a bronze bell, each word carrying an unyielding authority.

Qiu Sheng and Wen Cai fell to their knees with a thud, scrambling to Uncle Jiu's feet and clinging to his legs, desperately begging for mercy.

"Master, please forgive us this time! We know we were wrong, and we will definitely correct our mistakes in the future. Please don't destroy our cultivation!"

Uncle Nine looked down at them, a hint of reluctance flashing in the depths of his eyes, but it was immediately overwhelmed by the eight lives and the dense list of casualties on the merit and demerit book.

He raised his hand, his fingers forming a sword shape, and tapped Qiu Sheng and Wen Cai on the forehead.

The moment their fingertips touched their brows, a faint ray of light emanated from their ancestral apertures, like a burst bubble, disappearing into the air in an instant.

Once the spiritual energy dissipates, the faint spiritual power within them will vanish like water without a source.

Qiu Sheng felt something draining from his body. He tried desperately to grab it, but couldn't grasp anything. Tears streamed down his face.

Wencai collapsed to the ground, unable to even cry. He just stared blankly ahead, muttering something to himself.

On the other side, Shi Jian didn't hesitate much either.

He walked up to Shi Shaojian, who was trembling with fear. Just as he was about to beg for mercy, Shi Jian raised his hand and slapped him on the forehead.

This palm strike was executed without any hesitation, even more decisively than Uncle Nine's.

Shi Shaojian groaned, then slid off the chair and onto the floor, losing consciousness.