After exhausting myself dealing with the possessed Zhang Yunliang and a corpse that had suddenly reanimated into a zombie, I finally breathed a sigh of relief when it lay motionless on the ground. My arms throbbed with pain as blood streamed from deep gashes. The zombie's nails had torn through my shoulder, leaving swollen, numb wounds.
Despite the bandages, blood kept seeping through. Zhang Yuyao panicked at the sight, tears welling in her eyes, unsure what to do. I gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'm fine."
But when I turned to check the wound, my face paled. The blood wasn't bright red anymore—it was turning black.
Zombie corpses carry deadly corpse poison. If they scratch or bite you, infection is highly likely. Fortunately, this corpse hadn't been reanimated for long, so the toxin hadn't fully developed.
I dug into my bag and pulled out a packet of glutinous rice I had prepared beforehand. Knowing I'd be exhuming a grave, I came prepared for the unexpected—even though this was my first job and I had no prior experience.
I pressed the rice onto my wound. A jolt of searing pain shot through me as white, foul-smelling smoke hissed from the injury. The toxin was being expelled.
Not just any glutinous rice works for this. The kind that neutralizes corpse poison has to undergo an elaborate process: soaked in virgin boy's urine for 49 days, then sun-dried under open skies for another 49 days. If it rains even once during that time, the effectiveness is lost or greatly diminished.
I packed more rice onto the wound. It quickly turned black, and the swelling and numbness began to fade. But the pain was excruciating—I broke out in a cold sweat.
Zhang Yuyao stood by helplessly, anxiety written all over her face. I forced a smile. "I'm okay. Help me up."
She rushed to support me, placing my arm over her shoulder. I was still weak, but a short rest would help.
"Mr. Wu, my brother's still lying over there… is he in danger?" she asked cautiously.
"He's fine—for now," I replied coldly.
This whole mess was his doing. If he had waited for my return instead of acting on his own, none of this would've happened. He not only endangered others but nearly got himself killed.
"I'm sorry… It's my brother's fault," she said, eyes full of guilt. "But he's still my brother. Please don't abandon him."
"You don't need to apologize. This isn't your fault," I said, my voice firm. "Since I took your family's job, I'll see it through. I won't abandon him."
She nodded gratefully.
After catching my breath, I left her standing there and rushed back into the forest where I had fought the zombie. During the fight, I had spotted a shadowy figure—it must've been the person controlling Zhang Yunliang and tampering with the Zhang family ancestral graves.
I wanted answers.
But by the time I returned, the shadow had vanished. Perhaps hiding nearby—but I couldn't find him.
As I turned back, a terrified scream pierced the night—Zhang Yuyao's voice.
I bolted toward the Zhang family graves and found her standing between the coffins, hands covering her mouth in fear.
She was unharmed, and I let out a breath of relief.
"What happened?" I asked.
She ran into my arms, trembling. "There's… there's something moving inside the coffin!"
I was confused—she hadn't flinched when a zombie attacked earlier, so why now?
Women are hard to understand.
"Don't be scared. I'm here." I patted her back and gently pulled away, eyes scanning the coffins.
Then it hit me—the other workers, and Uncle Hu, were missing. Why was only Zhang Yunliang here?
I focused and listened closely.
Sure enough, faint scratching sounds were coming from one of the coffins—like nails scraping wood.
Creak… creak…
Then, one coffin subtly shifted.
My expression changed dramatically.
Could all the exhumed corpses have turned into zombies?
One was nearly my end. Several at once? I wouldn't survive.
I suddenly understood why the eight-tailed fox had warned me not to take this job. It was more dangerous than I imagined.
But I couldn't run. If I fled and the corpses turned, they could reach nearby villages. The death toll would be catastrophic.
I steadied myself and told Zhang Yuyao, "Go wait in the car. Don't come out."
She looked at me, eyes wide. "What about you?"
"What can you even do here?" I snapped.
"I can help," she said firmly.
"Forget it. If I'm not back in an hour, drive home," I said flatly.
But she stood her ground. "You agreed to help our family because of me. I won't let you face this alone."
Her eyes were resolute. I knew she wouldn't leave.
I gave in.
I approached the coffin with the noise, circling it. It was one Zhang Yunliang had the workers dig up.
I noticed something strange—the nails that sealed the coffin were missing. Someone had opened it.
"Come help me open this," I said to Zhang Yuyao.
Together, we pried it open. A foul stench immediately poured out. I told her to hold her breath.
After much effort, we opened it halfway.
Zhang family coffins were top quality—expensive and well-preserved even after a hundred years.
But when I peeked inside, I was stunned.
So was Zhang Yuyao.
There were four legs inside.
Two people?
That's unheard of. Even in joint burials, each body has its own coffin.
Looking closer, I recognized the pants on one body—camouflage. One of the workers had worn them!
What was he doing in the coffin?
No time to hesitate. I grabbed a pair of tongs nearby and pried the lid fully open.
Inside, a worker in camouflage was lying on top of a corpse—mouth-to-mouth.
His face was blue, trembling slightly. The corpse beneath him had a faint, eerie blush.
The living looked dead. The dead looked alive.
I knew this was serious.
"Help me pull him out. If we wait, he's dead," I said urgently.
Zhang Yuyao found a rope. I tied it around his hands and we pulled together, dragging him out.
He was alive, but barely—blue-faced, stiff, with bulging bloodshot eyes. His body was ice-cold.
"What was he doing in there?" she asked, shocked.
"I don't know what your brother did while we were gone, but this place is cursed. These corpses can absorb yang energy from the living and turn into zombies," I said grimly.
"What now?" she asked.
"We open the other coffins. If any of these corpses absorb too much yang, they'll turn. We must get the workers out."
"Let's go then!"
But first, I stuffed a handful of glutinous rice into the man's mouth—to purge any corpse poison.
Then I inspected the corpse—an old man, now with flushed cheeks and three-inch-long fingernails. He hadn't fully turned yet.
I slapped a corpse-sealing talisman onto his forehead—better safe than sorry.
Zhang Yuyao and I moved on to the next coffin. Same situation: a worker entangled with a corpse.
We pulled them out, one by one.
Eventually, we rescued all the workers—but Uncle Hu was still missing.
Everyone else was accounted for.
Where was he?
Worried, I told Zhang Yuyao, "Go home and bring back a few things."
"What do you need?"
"Vinegar from the kitchen, and black ash from under the stove. Go, now."
She nodded and ran toward the car. Then she turned back, eyes filled with gratitude.
"Mr. Wu… thank you. If it weren't for you, my family would be finished."