Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Late-Stage Nascent Soul Zombie

At this moment, Razan reached out and grasped the air, gathering the surrounding True Spirit Qi into his palm and condensing it into a small orb. No matter how it was formed, this True Spirit Qi was a rare treasure. Razan cared little for its origins; he simply snatched it from the void, casting a smug glance at Zhang Xiao. The ability to condense spiritual energy in this manner was something only those at the Nascent Soul stage could achieve.

Naturally, Zhang Xiao could not condense the True Spirit Qi as Razan did, but if that alone could stump him, it would be underestimating him greatly. Zhang Xiao’s spiritual sense searched through his Bone Ring, rummaging through the possessions of two old monsters and the gains from Ise Shrine. While he lacked many things, treasures were not among them. He produced a purple clay bottle from the Bone Ring—only a fifth-grade magical artifact, but capable of absorbing all sorts of gases.

He had no intention of refining it to wield as skillfully as the finest magical treasures; he merely sought usability. With a casual incantation, he refined it briefly, uncorked the bottle, and pointed it at the void. Instantly, the bottle emitted a strong suction, drawing the True Spirit Qi into it like a flowing stream. Razan looked at the few orbs he’d painstakingly gathered, then at Zhang Xiao’s bottle, which was absorbing the Qi in a steady stream. His annoyance grew, and his wariness of Zhang Xiao deepened.

They remained in the hall for a day, gathering Qi until its abundance began to thin. Razan had amassed a pile of spirit orbs a meter high, the fruits of his labor. He stored them away and glanced at Zhang Xiao, who stood smiling. He had every reason to smile; his purple clay bottle was now filled with True Spirit Water, nearly thirty pounds in weight. It would be more than enough to fuel his pill furnace for a long time, and any pill crafted from this Qi would be a rare masterpiece.

Stowing the bottle away, Zhang Xiao grinned at Razan, “Congratulations, Master. It seems you’ve had a great harvest today.”

Razan sneered, “The feeling is mutual. Your gains far outstrip mine a hundredfold. How could I compare with you?”

Their words were courteous, but their eyes betrayed hostility. Now that their strengths were equal and both wary, neither would dare break the balance—else one would surely strike the other down without hesitation. They strode deeper into the hall, but soon found themselves outside, facing a vast expanse of grassland.

Amid the grass stood an enormous tree, from which countless threads of True Spirit Qi radiated. Seven fruits hung from its branches, each shaped like a tiny human figure. What was this? Could it be the legendary Ginseng Fruit? Zhang Xiao guessed mischievously, though he knew it could not be. He stared, unable to fathom how such fruits could exist.

He glanced at Razan, who was equally puzzled. Neither dared make a move. Suddenly, Razan smiled and said, “There are seven fruits here. I’ll take three; the remaining four are yours.” Razan’s generosity surprised Zhang Xiao, who could not discern his motives. But Razan soon revealed his true intentions: “Please, you choose first.”

The fruits were all alike in size, and letting Zhang Xiao pick first was clearly a ploy to make him test the waters. No wonder Razan was willing to settle for less.

“Hmph, trying to use me as a pawn—no way,” Zhang Xiao cursed inwardly. But he smiled outwardly, “Master, your humility is too great. It’s thanks to your efforts we’ve come here; you should choose first. My cultivation is not high, so three fruits will suffice.”

Razan, seeing Zhang Xiao refuse to take the bait, was at a loss. As they stood in stalemate, a giant hand suddenly emerged from beneath Zhang Xiao’s feet. His expression changed as he used his divine stride to dodge aside. A figure crawled out from the earth—clad in pitch-black armor, eyes blood-red, fangs sharp, face pale.

Zhang Xiao’s face darkened; the newcomer was a zombie, and not a weak one—at least Nascent Soul level. Zombies came in two kinds: those like Zhang Xiao’s Copper Armored Corpse, refined as corpse soldiers for others to use, which could eventually evolve into Flying Yaksha; and those who cultivated themselves, ultimately becoming Dry Corpses. The zombie before them belonged to the latter, far more troublesome and often much stronger.

The zombie swept his gaze over Zhang Xiao and Razan, grinning, “Finally, someone has come. I’ve been trapped here for countless years, and now someone can help me escape.”

He reached out slowly, though in truth it was lightning fast, grabbing Razan’s shoulder. No matter how Razan struggled, he could not break free. Razan swung his monk’s staff, releasing a beam of Buddhist light at the zombie’s shoulder, but the zombie stood unmoved, unfazed by the attack. Razan’s face turned ashen.

Zhang Xiao, without hesitation, summoned the Heavenly Sound Bell and struck at the zombie’s back. He had no intention of saving Razan, but seeing the zombie’s strength, he dared not let Razan be slain first. With such power, only by joining forces could they hope to survive; otherwise, Zhang Xiao would surely be the next victim. Yet the bell, usually unstoppable, only produced a dull thud on the zombie’s back, failing even to shift his footing.

“Hmph! Is that all you’ve got, child? You think you can harm this avatar? Come here!” The zombie grabbed Razan, who was resisting desperately, and suddenly appeared beside Zhang Xiao, reaching for him. Zhang Xiao tried to use his divine stride to escape, but space around him was instantly sealed, the overwhelming pressure making him gasp for breath—late Nascent Soul stage!

Zhang Xiao was shocked; he hadn’t expected the zombie to be a late Nascent Soul monster. The zombie grabbed his shoulder, then paused and laughed, “What a sturdy body! If I didn’t see you were clearly human, I’d think you were of the demon race!”

The zombie’s grip was excruciating, rendering Zhang Xiao immobile. He laughed, “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. But you must help me with something.”

“Please, elder, tell us. We will do our utmost,” Razan replied, abandoning any pretense of mastery and fawning over the zombie upon hearing he would spare them. Zhang Xiao’s eyes flashed with a hint of coldness. He doubted the zombie would truly let them go, suspecting they would be killed once their task was done. Yet, for now, he could not think of a way out. Neither the Five-Colored Cloud Banner, the Buddha’s Golden Wheel, nor his transformation into Black Tortoise could threaten the late Nascent Soul zombie; the gap was simply too great.

Still, Zhang Xiao was not worried. If worst came to worst, he could use the Xuantian Command’s Great Transfer spell to escape to Xuantian Cave. But that would be his last resort, for he knew too little about spatial magic; recklessly teleporting might make returning impossible.

“It’s nothing difficult. See that damned tree? Destroy it for me,” the zombie said. Both Razan and Zhang Xiao were startled. With such power, destroying a tree should be trivial—why ask them?

Seeing their bewilderment, the zombie forced a smile uglier than a grimace, holding them up before him. “Don’t try any tricks. I can’t approach that tree, but as long as I guard this place, you can’t leave. You’ll stay here with me forever—there’s no spiritual energy, so you can never advance. If you don’t do as I say, you’ll remain here for eternity!”

He threw Zhang Xiao and Razan to the ground. The two exchanged a glance, climbed to their feet, and walked toward the tree. Even standing beneath it, they found nothing unusual. Razan quietly transmitted, “Do you think he’s testing us?”

Zhang Xiao couldn’t say for sure. Considering the zombie’s late Nascent Soul cultivation, he felt uneasy; this place was clearly a trap, not a treasure trove. According to the zombie, this was just an avatar; if even an avatar was this strong, the main body must be unimaginably powerful. Zhang Xiao could only shake his head at Razan, indicating he was unsure. Razan helplessly summoned his monk’s staff and struck the tree, but his blow couldn’t even scratch the bark.

Zhang Xiao’s eyes suddenly brightened as he summoned the Heavenly Sound Bell, forming Daoist seals with his fingers, leaping left and right while chanting strange, tongue-twisting incantations. Razan was baffled; Zhang Xiao’s hand seals were clearly Daoist, but his chanting was Buddhist scripture, broken and chaotic as if simply to scare or confuse.

Yet, considering Zhang Xiao’s strength, Razan watched intently. Even the zombie behind Zhang Xiao was puzzled—could it be ancient shamanic magic? Impossible; if Zhang Xiao knew such arts, he wouldn’t fear the zombie. Or perhaps it was a new spell? The more one knows, the deeper their awe.

As the zombie watched Zhang Xiao closely, Zhang Xiao suddenly turned and shouted, “How close can you get to this tree?”

The zombie, engrossed in Zhang Xiao’s seals, answered without thinking, “Thirty meters—damn it, you brat! Are you courting death, daring to trick me!” Realizing his slip, the zombie began cursing furiously.

But to Zhang Xiao, raised in the twenty-first century, the zombie’s empty insults were hardly worth a reply. He put away the Heavenly Sound Bell, sat carelessly beneath the tree, humming a tune and ignoring the zombie entirely.

Because updates for this story are written and posted as they’re finished, the timing isn’t very regular. I hope readers won’t hold it against me, but rest assured, I’ve never missed a single update—from May Day until now, not a day has been skipped. So please keep your faith in me. The story has reached 300,000 words; I hope readers will consider my persistence and add it to their collections. Thank you.