The Unit Two agents near the zombie had already scattered—but they weren't its target. With a sharp screech, the zombie lunged directly at me. I'd really overestimated myself this time. Having just emerged from Level Five of the underground facility, I'd been sent straight here. I hadn't brought my handgun or baton—left them back at the Bureau. I was completely unarmed, not even a stick to fend it off.
In the blink of an eye, the zombie was upon me, its remaining hand swiping straight for my throat. Just as its claws were about to touch me, I ducked low and slipped beneath its legs, bolting toward the center of the tomb. That short sword embedded in the wall—only I could wield it. If I could get there in time and pull it free, there might still be a chance to turn this around.
But the zombie was faster than I expected. I'd only taken a few steps when it spun and struck me square in the back with its stump of an arm. Even without a hand, the sheer force behind the blow was immense—it knocked my feet clean off the ground and sent me flying five or six meters.
Before I could get up, the zombie was on me again, reaching once more for my throat. Instinctively, I grabbed its wrist just before it could make contact.
The moment my hand touched the zombie's skin, a scorching heat surged through my chest and right arm. Then crack!—the spot I grabbed bent and twisted with an audible snap. I yanked upward, and to my astonishment, tore off the zombie's hand—armor and all—as easily as peeling bark from a branch.
How the hell was it this brittle…?
Just then, Ximen Lian and Old Mo rushed over, each wielding a collapsible baton. They grabbed the zombie from behind, locking its arms and pulling with all their strength. Ximen Lian shouted, "Lazi! We've got it pinned! Hurry u—" But halfway through his words, he saw me waving the severed hand at him like some grotesque trophy. His voice caught in his throat as he stared at me, speechless.
Old Mo, a few years older and steadier, still stammered in disbelief. "L-Lazi… how did you… do that?"
"How?" I lifted the hand again with a grin. "Just like this."
Now brimming with confidence, I bent down and grabbed the zombie's left calf. Another sharp yank—crack!—and the entire leg, armor included, snapped right off.
Now it had no usable hands and only one leg left. Ximen and Old Mo dropped their batons, and the zombie toppled headfirst to the floor.
I reached down, tore off its metal face mask, and revealed the shriveled, leathery face beneath. The others gathered around, pointing and whispering in shock—until my phone suddenly rang.
It was Sun Fatty.
"Lazi, are you on site already? Don't say anything yet, just listen," he said hastily. "Look, you all better hold off going in there. The Bureau just uncovered new intel. That tomb you're in? Turns out it houses a Manchu military Second Place Graduate from the 11th year of Kangxi's reign. This guy was later involved in Suo Etu's conspiracy and got caught. But thanks to his family's legacy—his grandfather died in battle with Nurhaci—Kangxi let him keep his corpse intact. Couldn't bury him in the ancestral grounds though, so they just dumped him somewhere for the time being."
"They buried him in a random pit in the suburbs of Beijing. But the guy digging the hole? Complete idiot. Picked a Yin Convergence Point—pure bad luck. I looked at Jiazhi Fang's Yin-Yang Map of the Capital from Yongzheng's era—there were only two Yin Convergence Points in the whole city, and this guy got planted right on one of them."
"Understandably, the guy was pissed. With that kind of grudge and a Yin-charged burial? Of course he turned into a zombie. Caused a whole mess. Locals tried to burn the corpse, but no one dared violate the imperial edict to preserve it. Eventually, some old Taoist offered a solution."
"They moved the guy far away, elevated his burial rank to Zhuangyuan status, and secretly reburied him hoping it'd appease his resentment. To seal the deal, that Taoist crafted a full set of custom Manchu military armor, engraved with talismanic inscriptions, designed to suppress his vengeful aura."
"Problem is," Sun Fatty continued, "according to Ouyang Pianzuo, this kind of patch job only works for a while. The armor seals the grudge temporarily, but over time, the corpse becomes aware. And when the tomb is opened, well… let's just say a few deaths won't fix it. Lazi, seriously—do not go any further. I've already contacted Yang Jun. He's on his way. Wait for him to arrive before you do anything else."
I hadn't even turned on speaker mode, but the tomb was dead silent—everyone heard Sun Fatty's words loud and clear.
Xiong Wanyi stomped over and bellowed into the phone, "What, you waiting for us all to die before calling?!"
There was a pause, then Sun Fatty's sheepish voice came through: "…You guys already went in?"
Click. The line went dead.
Sun Fatty had turned off his phone. Xiong Wanyi had nowhere left to vent, so he let it drop. The zombie still lay on the ground—missing both hands and a leg. Its dark blood had almost all drained, and it barely twitched anymore.
I carefully refastened the metal mask onto its face. Just in case.
Now, it had no means of attacking anyone.
Ximen Lian quickly took charge, ordering the team to carry the wounded back to the surface. Then he pulled out cinnabar-red ropes and led the others in removing the zombie's armor and binding it like a zongzi rice dumpling for transport back to the Bureau.
Their actions were quick and orderly. I had nothing to contribute, so I took this moment to walk over and retrieve the short sword I'd thrown into the rammed-earth wall.
Just as I was thinking of retrieving the short sword, an invisible force suddenly tugged at my right hand. I couldn't control it—it lifted entirely on its own. Confused and growing uneasy, I suddenly heard another low roll of thunder, followed by a flash of blue light arcing straight into my palm.
The moment it reached me, I instinctively gripped the hilt—and that was when I realized the short sword, still buried in the wall a moment ago, had flown back to me on its own.
Everyone in the tomb froze, eyes locked on me. Before I could even make sense of what had just happened, Old Mo was the first to recover. He looked at me and said, "Lazi, you've refined it… I knew it! That new outfit of yours wasn't for nothing. Anyone who gets into Sixth Unit is no ordinary guy. Well, no time for pleasantries today—tomorrow, after work, that same halal restaurant. We'll call Sun Bureau too. The brothers should sit down for a meal."
Ximen Lian and Xiong Wanyi joined in, trying to persuade me. Maybe they were worried I'd back out, because even Xiong Wanyi—who never got along with Sun Fatty—pulled him in. "Come on, Lazi, give me some face. I've been meaning to clear the air with Sun Fatty for a while. You can be the middleman. Out of the whole Bureau, you're the only one I really trust."
Some of the others, who didn't have such close ties, looked on with envy but didn't know how to jump into the conversation. My mind, however, was in turmoil. I was answering Old Mo and the others on autopilot, not even aware of what I was saying. All I could think about was: Why did the sword fly back to me? I needed to find a way to ask Wu Rendi about this, discreetly.
I found two long, thin pieces of scale-like armor from the zombie's remains and used them to sheath the sword, binding everything up with half a strand of cinnabar-dyed red rope that I borrowed from Ximen Lian. After seeing what the sword could do, I didn't dare stash it casually behind my waist—I held it carefully in my hand, following the Unit Two team as they carried the zombie out of the tomb.
Once we got the corpse into the vehicle, we arranged transport for the wounded to the hospital. Ximen Lian then called the Bureau. Unit Two had taken heavy losses this time and didn't have the capacity to finish securing the site. They could only remain on standby at the tomb, awaiting the next relief team from HQ.
While we were waiting, Old Mo suddenly frowned. "Hmm? Where's Yinbai? Lazi, you were the last one down. Didn't you see him?"
I gave a wry smile, just about to explain how Yinbai had run off, when Xiong Wanyi, ever sharp-eyed, pointed out the window. "What's that? Lazi, you've got good eyes—take a look."
Following his finger, I saw a small white dot slowly approaching in the distance. Squinting harder, I realized it was a giant white wolf, walking calmly toward us. That snowy fur—who else could it be but Yinbai?
Yinbai trotted up with a bit of a swagger. Xiong Wanyi opened the door, and the big guy hopped in. First, he casually strolled over to me, opened his mouth, and spat out a fist-sized patch of gray-white flesh, still dangling with a chunk of raw meat. Then, without a word, he leapt into a seat, curled up, and promptly fell asleep.
Once they were sure Yinbai was really out cold, Ximen Lian and the rest cautiously approached. The gentleman squatted beside me, eyeing the hunk of flesh and asked, "Lazi, where'd you send Yinbai off to? What's he trying to say with this chunk of meat?"
"Don't look at me. If you want answers, ask him yourself. I'm not the one giving him orders," I replied, grabbing a nearby newspaper to use as a makeshift wrapper. I was just about to inspect the meat more closely when a pair of forceps reached in and plucked it from my hands.
Who the hell— It's not like I'm just some lackey! I'm the only Deputy Director on site! Snatching something from my hands—do we even have rules anymore? I turned to scold whoever it was—only to find myself facing none other than Old Mo.
Well, that shut me up.
As it turns out, Old Mo—besides being a veteran field investigator—is also the Bureau's top forensic specialist. Even Ouyang Pianzuo defers to him when it comes to postmortem analysis. I'd heard the rumors about how obsessed he was with corpses; now I was seeing it firsthand.
He examined the chunk with utmost care, his brow furrowing more deeply by the second. Eventually, he even brought it up to his nose and gave it a whiff. After a long pause, he muttered, almost to himself, "Definitely human tissue. No signs of decomposition visible from the outside… but this isn't a recent death. No lividity, and… why isn't there any trace of blood?"
His words sent chills down my spine. Don't tell me Yinbai just killed someone nearby, snacked on the body, and then brought me leftovers. That leash—I'm the one who took it off. If this turns into a homicide case, am I going to be the fall guy?
Feeling more and more uneasy, I finally asked, "Old Mo, what exactly are you saying? Is this fresh, or has it been dead for a while?"
"Hard to say," he replied. "The sample's too small—no visible lividity. We'll have to take it back for testing to get a precise time of death." He shifted his gaze from the meat to me. "Just by looking at it… I'd say it's a piece of human buttock. The skin and muscle tissue. But there's no blood on it at all. That either means it's extremely old, or it was completely drained of blood at the moment of death…"
As he spoke, he lifted the flesh closer for me to inspect. And that's when I saw them—tiny maggots, each no bigger than a grain of rice, squirming slowly beneath the skin. They wriggled in and out of the tissue and vanished completely a few seconds later.
Judging by Old Mo's calm demeanor, he couldn't see them.
Whatever Yinbai brought back… it wasn't normal.