Chapter Thirteen: Mystery!

“Grandpa Zhao, what should we do now?”

Watching as the woman in ancient costume flickered and vanished before our eyes, I then glanced at the ruined, chaotic “spiritual spring,” my heart still gripped by intense fear.

“Why is this matter so strange?”

Zhao Fifteen stood there, staring at the devastation before him with a perplexed expression, as if pondering something deeply.

“What’s so strange about it?”

“Based on our calculations, the female corpse in the reservoir shouldn’t have awakened, and our previous methods couldn’t possibly have failed. Could it be that Chu Yi made a mistake in his divination?”

Hearing Zhao Fifteen’s words, I was left speechless. If Chen Chu Yi had truly miscalculated, then the water corpse must have already been revived? The figure that just floated away before us was the water corpse among the three?

Confused, I stood there, gazing blankly at Zhao Fifteen.

“Come, let’s go meet up with Chu Yi and the others!”

I nodded and followed Zhao Fifteen toward the Jewelry Tower.

Just as we left Lingquan Village, we received a call from Chen Chu Yi. His voice was urgent as he said they were now pursuing the evil fetus. According to him, the nine evil spirits had formed—the King Kong corpse I’d seen before had escaped with the nine evil fetuses. Fortunately, Chen Chu Yi had placed a restriction on her body, preventing the King Kong corpse from instantly merging with the nine fetuses. However, the restriction wouldn’t last long, so we needed to find the untransformed King Kong corpse as quickly as possible.

Upon hearing this news, Zhao Fifteen was first shocked, then immediately hailed a random car and rushed with me toward the city.

On the way, Zhao Fifteen’s face remained grave. I understood that perhaps from the very start we’d been drawn into a carefully laid trap: first the jumping incident at the Jewelry Tower, then the lightning-struck wood, Lingquan Village, the moonlight corpse.

All of these seemed connected, yet each had its own threads. Naturally, I was still a newcomer to the world of yin-yang masters, unable to grasp the deeper secrets within.

Following Zhao Fifteen’s lead, we got out of the car and made our way to the Jewelry Tower. Just then, Chen Chu Yi called again, saying they had gone to a mountain not far from the Jewelry Tower, a somewhat famous tourist spot called Fenghua Mountain.

Fenghua Mountain is well-known among locals in Chengdu. Mountains are rare on the plains around Chengdu, but Fenghua Mountain stands out as an anomaly, its trees lush and verdant all year round. The local government eventually developed it into a small recreational scenic spot, open to the public. Yet many stories circulate about its eerie reputation—at night, people claim to hear the sounds of armies clashing, and many believe spirits dwell there. During the campaign against old customs, it would have been targeted and repurposed, but nowadays, no one dares meddle with Fenghua Mountain.

A legend persists: because of its beautiful scenery and status as a landmark near Chengdu, a developer once sought to buy land at the foot of Fenghua Mountain to build villas and supporting facilities. The government, seeing no harm in selling unused land, transferred usage rights to a major developer. But as construction began, accidents occurred almost daily—at first, one worker died each day. The developer, suspecting they had angered something, tried burning incense and praying, but the deaths only increased, sometimes two per day. Though the government covered it up, the situation grew dire. Desperate, the developer quietly invited a renowned master—not of the caliber of Zhao Fifteen or Chen Chu Yi, but still capable.

After conducting rituals for three days at the foot of the mountain, the master died mysteriously at his altar, leaving behind just three words.

“Do not disturb!”

Witnessing this, the developer was terrified. The yin-yang master was famous locally, and since this was a government project, any further incidents would be disastrous—even the government couldn’t protect them. The developer had no choice but to abandon the project.

Though these events weren’t publicly broadcast, most locals knew the story. In later years, wealthy residents even invested in building temples atop Fenghua Mountain, which are still tended with incense offerings.

Thus, Fenghua Mountain has almost become a place for prayers and wishes.

At this moment, our destination was precisely Fenghua Mountain.

Zhao Fifteen stood before the Jewelry Tower for a long time, finally saying, “The feng shui of the Jewelry Tower is utterly broken. That King Kong corpse is surely heading to Fenghua Mountain in search of something. If it succeeds, the King Kong soul will fully transform into a King Kong corpse. Then, it won’t just be a matter of the Three Corpses Resurrection Array—we’ll be facing a King Kong corpse nearly as formidable as a Corpse Emperor.”

I had read much about corpse classifications in the agency and was now familiar with them. After death, if a person’s resentment lingers strongly, their ghost remains, though their body slowly changes. Some corpses, due to favorable conditions, undergo corpse transformation. From that moment, the body is imbued with yin energy—a so-called zombie. These are weak, often no match even for bodiless spirits, but as they absorb yang energy or find places rich in yin energy, their power grows. With each transformation, they gain new abilities—moving objects from afar, flying, burrowing, and more.

These zombies are classified according to ancient records: Hairy Zombie, Red-Haired Zombie, Flying Zombie, Corpse King, Corpse Emperor, Corpse God—each with countless subdivisions.

Thus, the white-robed, ancient female corpse I saw at Lingquan Reservoir belonged to a category yet undefined, but judging by her abilities, she was at least comparable to a Corpse King—a terrifying presence indeed.