Chapter Forty-Nine: The Corpse That Came Back to Life

Three hours later

"Qiangzi! Look! Food!"

The fat man, dizzy from hunger, suddenly spotted a grove of vibrant red trees and shouted excitedly as he rushed forward. It was a patch of apple trees, their red color signaling ripe fruit—the apples had all ripened past their prime.

"This is incredible! There are actually fruit trees here!" Song Nianqiang was astonished, standing for a moment on the hillside before running down to the hollow. Huge apples lay before him, and parched with hunger and thirst, he didn’t hesitate and swiftly climbed a tree, sitting at the top and biting into an apple.

"Hahaha, Qiangzi, who would’ve thought our luck was so good? Even the heavens can't bear to see us starve!" He took a hearty bite from his apple. "Hey, Fatty, do you think those people from the Southern Faction invited us over for some sinister plot?" Sitting atop the treetop, Song Nianqiang finally voiced his concern, sensing that this matter was anything but simple.

"Who cares! With me here, any scheme is useless!" Fatty, ever careless, didn’t take the matter to heart and laughed it off. Song Nianqiang let the concern slip away as well.

Though the apples were overripe, eating too many still made their teeth ache—a condition known as 'sour teeth.' Now, whenever they inhaled sharply, their molars tingled with cold, but at least their stomachs weren’t empty anymore.

Resuming their journey, they finally arrived at the designated spot just after five in the afternoon. It was a vast, empty area, devoid of anything. A gentle breeze brought a refreshing sensation to their sweat-soaked bodies. "Southern Faction, come out!" Fatty shouted loudly, but saw no sign of the Southern Faction.

"Qiangzi, were we tricked?" Fatty stood atop a grave mound, looking around with a disgruntled expression. Other than the weeds being taller than elsewhere, there was nothing unusual about the place. Soon, though, Fatty frowned—for he felt no hint of spiritual energy here.

"Qiangzi, there’s not a trace of spiritual energy!"

Fatty spoke to Song Nianqiang from atop the grave, and Song Nianqiang nodded silently. The absence of spiritual energy in a mass grave seemed illogical. If they could open their Heavenly Eyes—the advanced version of the Yin-Yang Eyes—they would have discovered that someone had placed a restriction here. By day, no spiritual energy leaked out, but at night, it would surge forth, bringing the ghosts of the mass grave with it.

Because the spirits were suppressed during the day, the nightly surge would be extraordinarily powerful. This also had a critical effect—it mutated the ghosts within, turning them completely into fierce spirits; even the weakest would become particularly vicious entities.

The sound of a text message chimed again. Fatty took out his phone and glanced at it. "Heh, Qiangzi, they say if we spend just one night here, they'll admit defeat! What nonsense!" Fatty grumbled after reading the message. Spending a night here wasn’t difficult—they were being underestimated.

But Song Nianqiang thought differently. If the other side dared to set this challenge, they must have something formidable prepared. He looked around the mass grave; apart from the lush weeds, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Strange!"

The graveyard wasn’t large, about the size of two basketball courts. Song Nianqiang quickly explored every corner, but found nothing odd. Judging by the current level of positive energy, it seemed unlikely that any spirits would appear at night.

"Forget it, let’s find a spot and get some sleep tonight!" Unable to pinpoint the problem, Song Nianqiang decided not to dwell on it and spoke to Fatty, who nodded and pointed to an empty patch ahead. "There."

Looking in the direction Fatty pointed, Song Nianqiang saw a circular area two meters in diameter, with far fewer weeds than elsewhere. Though it lay outside the boundaries of the mass grave, Song Nianqiang wasn’t concerned.

"Alright! Let's start pulling weeds and spread them out!" With that, Song Nianqiang found a spot thick with weeds and began, while Fatty climbed down from the grave and joined him. The air wasn’t stifling—occasional breezes blew by—but even so, both men were sweating heavily. That wasn’t the main issue.

The real problem was the abundance of mosquitoes. Despite their constant activity, their arms and legs were covered with swollen bites, itching fiercely; Song Nianqiang had scratched several spots raw.

"Damn! Why are there so many mosquitoes!" Fatty cursed, unsure where to scratch first, as he ripped up a large patch of weeds by the roots. Suddenly, a surge of spiritual energy rushed out, startling him.

The energy was so strong that Fatty staggered back three steps before regaining his balance, his face awash with disbelief. "Qiangzi, come here!" He stared unblinkingly at the dark object he'd unearthed, and Song Nianqiang approached at his call. When he saw the object, he couldn’t help but gasp.

"How did you dig this up?"

The dark object was a human corpse, judging by the clothing from the 1940s or 1950s. Though the person had been dead a long time, aside from the corpse’s black color, everything else appeared normal—even the eyes still had pupils.

Song Nianqiang pulled out a sturdy weed and prodded the corpse, finding the skin still elastic. This was odd—could the person be modern, simply murdered and hidden here? But the decaying clothes suggested otherwise. The most unsettling thing was the eyes.

They were indistinguishable from a living person’s. At first glance, nothing seemed amiss, but after staring a while, the mystery became clear: a normal pupil reflects light, but these absorbed it. Staring into those eyes felt like being drawn into an endless black hole, unable to escape.

Luckily, Fatty was oblivious and didn’t notice the details. He shoved Song Nianqiang, snapping him out of the trance. "Uh…" Song Nianqiang uttered a strange sound, finally awake, his back now cold with sweat. He dropped onto the grass, but quickly stood—who knew what might lurk beneath him.

"Fatty, something weird is happening!"

It was nearly six o’clock, but the sun hadn’t set yet. Song Nianqiang glanced at the mass grave—if all the corpses were like this, then at night, a surge of spiritual energy was inevitable. Who knew if these bodies would rise then? To be safe, Song Nianqiang warned Fatty, who nodded and walked off.

He continued to study the corpse. Five minutes later, Fatty returned, holding a small tree. Dangling from one end was another corpse, similar to the first, except this one was a child.

"Qiangzi, there are many bodies like this."

Fatty walked over, placing the child’s corpse atop the adult one. Suddenly, something strange happened—the child’s corpse quickly melted into a pool of black liquid, while the adult corpse abruptly stood up. Song Nianqiang, standing right beside it, was nearly scared out of his wits, but reacted swiftly.

"Damn! The sun hasn't even set and she’s already alive!"

Fatty was equally terrified, but responded quickly, smashing the small tree at the animated corpse. With a crack, the tree snapped, but it successfully drew the corpse’s attention to him.