Chapter Thirty-Two: Big Trouble

"Understood. When do we leave?" Song Nianqiang was not the sort of person to fuss over things. Once he understood the situation, he felt at ease. According to Zhang Yu, they would likely return in just a few weeks. Song Nianqiang hadn’t seen Jiang Ningzhi in quite some time, and he rather missed her, though this was something he kept to himself. If he voiced it, the big fellow would surely tease him.

"This afternoon. We'll reach the highway by evening, then turn off and enter the mountains." Zhang Yu clearly had the route planned out; all that was left was to depart when the time came.

They ate a hasty lunch at the ghost-hunting school, then Song Nianqiang and Zhang Yu went over the route together. Soon, it was time to set off. This time, it wasn’t just the three of them; two other men accompanied them, each with a large backpack, presumably filled with food and essential supplies. All of Song Nianqiang's necessities had been entrusted to them as well.

The heavens were not kind. No sooner had they started out than a torrential rain began to pour, with no sign of letting up. Fortunately, the truck’s cab was spacious enough that, though the six of them had to squeeze in, it was manageable.

They soon reached the highway. After twenty minutes of driving, the truck driver suddenly made a sharp turn, swinging the vehicle sideways. "Is this even driving? He’s going to get us killed!" Song Nianqiang’s heart leapt into his throat. It was still pouring outside; who knew what the driver would do if the weather were clear?

Bang! The truck crashed through the guardrail and careened off the road, swaying dangerously. But this was all part of the plan, so there was no real danger. After barreling down and continuing for a long stretch, the truck finally came to a halt.

There was no chance of the truck returning; they'd have to call a tow in the morning. Zhang Yu and his two assistants donned raincoats and stepped out, remembering to hand two to Song Nianqiang and his companion. Before getting out, Song Nianqiang asked the driver, "Brother, do you always drive like you’re tempting fate?"

The driver gave a sheepish smile. "Of course not! The road was slippery with the rain—I almost flipped the truck!"

Hearing this, Song Nianqiang rolled his eyes, put on his raincoat, and got out.

The journey ahead was difficult. After hours of rain, the once-clear stream had swollen into a raging torrent; it was impossible to ford. The only hope was to find some sort of bridge nearby.

The heavy rain impaired everyone’s vision. Zhang Yu called out loudly to a middle-aged man beside him, who handed Zhang Yu his backpack, then set off light-footed ahead. More than half an hour passed as the group waited impatiently before the man returned.

“There’s a bridge ahead, but it’s in bad shape!” he shouted over the rain.

There was no choice. If they didn’t leave quickly, someone might discover the truck had crashed off the highway and alert the authorities. If the police found them in the dead of night, escorting over thirty corpses, and they tried to claim they just wanted some fresh air, no one would believe them.

So Zhang Yu had the middle-aged man lead the way, walking ahead and shaking a small bell. The corpses behind followed in hopping strides, each cloaked in raincoats. If the talismans affixed to their foreheads were washed away by the rain, they'd have to carry the bodies themselves.

Oddly, though the thirty-odd corpses moved by hopping, their speed was impressive, keeping right behind Zhang Yu even when he broke into a run.

Song Nianqiang soon found his attention drawn to the small bell in Zhang Yu's hand. He moved ahead, nudging Zhang Yu. "That’s a neat bell. Let me try it!"

Zhang Yu shot him a look. "Driving corpses is a skill. It's not just about shaking a bell; you need to give commands." With that, he ignored Song Nianqiang and pressed on.

The muddy ground slowed their progress greatly. Clearly, their departure would not be smooth, and it was impossible to reach the destination on schedule. The rain kept pouring, unrelenting. It took nearly forty minutes to reach the front of a dilapidated bridge.

The bridge looked ancient, some parts reduced to iron chains. People could cross, but what about the thirty corpses trailing behind?

Frowning, Zhang Yu inspected the bridge, then returned silently, calling out to Song Nianqiang and his companion, "You go first. Watch me work!"

At this point, Song Nianqiang had no objections. He carefully crossed to the other side, anxious, unsure how Zhang Yu would get the corpses across.

A note about the practice of corpse-driving: Some people die with unfulfilled wishes or unresolved vengeance, dying with a breath still caught in their throat. Thus, their spirits cannot rest, and their corpses remain undecayed. At certain times, they may transform into zombies.

Here, however, these zombies were no more than ordinary corpse fiends, easily handled by a few strong men. The founder of the Xiangxi corpse-driving sect, a venerable elder over one hundred fifty years old, had recently heard reports that a great many died with lingering resentment in SD province. He spent a fortune to acquire them all for research.

That elder was acquainted with Song Nianqiang’s teacher. The Maoshan manual contained two arts: one for ghost-catching, the other for corpse-driving. For reasons unknown, the manual had been split in two.

Soon, Zhang Yu's two assistants joined them; only Zhang Yu and the thirty corpses remained on the far side. Zhang Yu waved to Song Nianqiang and the others, then shook his small bell to lead the way. At first, things went smoothly, and several corpses crossed successfully. But as some unstable planks gave way, dropping into the river below, new obstacles arose.

Given the corpses’ hopping ability, there was no way they could cross the gap. Zhang Yu came over, smiling at Song Nianqiang, then bent down and began shaking the bell. Suddenly, he raised his hand sharply. The corpse seemed electrified, leaping across and landing perfectly before Song Nianqiang.

After arranging the corpse, Zhang Yu continued to bring the rest over with the same method. For the last one, however, another plank fell, making the gap too wide for even a corpse to jump.

"Should we carry it across?" Song Nianqiang asked, nudging Zhang Yu. But Zhang Yu seemed to have made up his mind, shaking his head firmly. He ran over to the corpse, swung himself onto its shoulders, took several deep breaths to steady himself.

"Jump, damn you!" he shouted.

Who knew what incantations Zhang Yu had muttered before? As soon as he gave the command, the corpse beneath him sprang up, flipping in mid-air. Whether it was Zhang Yu’s doing or the corpse’s, it was hard to say.

Thunk!

They landed solidly. Zhang Yu, still astride the corpse, exhaled deeply, wiping cold sweat from his brow. He swore never to attempt such a feat again; if his heart weren’t strong, he’d have died of fright.

"Hey, brother, what kind of cheat was that? Pretty handy! Teach me, will you?" The big fellow approached, slapping Zhang Yu on the back. Zhang Yu’s legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the muddy ground, not caring about the mess.

"That was insane! What a rush!" Zhang Yu sat on the ground, still exhilarated. But Song Nianqiang walked over, frowning. "You might have enjoyed yourself, but now you’ve landed us in serious trouble!"