Chapter 168: Shouting, Shouting, Shouting, Shouting, Shouting

Running swiftly through the abandoned village, Zhou Qing could hear the varied howls of the zombies chasing him from behind. Gradually, their numbers thinned as they fell behind, unable to match his speed. Yet as some were left behind, new ones joined the pursuit; it seemed as though zombies lurked in every corner of the forested mountain.

The number of zombies chasing him had grown—from five at first, to more than a dozen after he descended the mountain, then to seven or eight, and now, six still trailed him. The deeper he ran into the northern reaches of the mountain woods, the more zombies he attracted. At this point, all he could do was keep running; stopping was not an option. If he halted now, the horde he’d drawn would surely catch up one after another. From the moment he’d descended the mountain to now, racing through this ruined village, he had attracted at least a hundred zombies. If he stopped, these would be more than enough to overwhelm him.

Though these zombies were merely the small, stiff-bodied kind, there were simply too many of them. And if he kept running, he would only attract more along the way. Zhou Qing realized that, having entered this northern forest, he would have to stop eventually. If, by that time, the zombies he’d drawn along the way surged upon him, it would be even more troublesome.

With this in mind, he took a deep breath and stood in the deserted village, fixing his gaze on a gray, ancient tree not far away. With a quick movement, he rushed over and climbed up into its branches.

A guttural howl sounded beneath the tree as a zombie leapt up, clawing at the air toward him. Soon, more zombies gathered beneath the old tree, drawn by the calls. Zhou Qing simply sat upon a sturdy branch, looking down without making a move. Below him, more and more zombies arrived—one after another, the horde he’d attracted converged beneath the tree.

In the end, nearly a hundred zombies crowded beneath the gray old tree. Like a mass of upright wooden stakes, they jumped again and again, trying to drag Zhou Qing down. But even the highest jumper among them could only reach a little over ten feet, while Zhou Qing’s branch was more than twenty feet above the ground.

Gazing down at the mindless, senseless little zombies, Zhou Qing drew his Illusory Peerless weapon. The cacophony of nearly a hundred zombie howls was deafening, their shrill, deep, and piercing cries like a swarm of flies, grating on his nerves.

“Shut up, damn you,” he muttered, and with a thrust of the spear formed by Illusory Peerless, he stabbed into the skull of a leaping zombie.

With a final shriek, the zombie collapsed and lay still.

“Shut up, you too,” he said, thrusting again to dispatch a second zombie.

“And you, enough,” he continued, the third strike silencing a particularly shrill female corpse.

“You as well,” the fourth strike finished off a zombie with a large black blotch on its face.

One after another, the zombies fell to his repeated thrusts, soon leaving more than a dozen corpses sprawled beneath the branch. The remaining zombies, dull and unfeeling as they were, continued to leap up, desperate to seize him.

Dealing with these mindless creatures in such a manner was by far the easiest. After slaying more than a dozen, Zhou Qing noticed the bodies piling haphazardly below, tripping up those attempting to leap. Aiming for another, he missed as the zombie stumbled over a corpse. Another jab missed when yet another tripped and fell. Hit and miss, he killed another seven or eight before moving along the branch to the other side of the tree. The zombies shambled after him, gathering beneath his new perch.

Once settled, Zhou Qing glanced back at the ground under his previous position and saw twenty-three motionless corpses. Beneath him now, around seventy zombies still leapt up like a swarm of flies, reaching for him.

Another thrust, another shriek, another corpse hit the earth, its cry cut short. Then another zombie flung itself upward, its head meeting the point of Illusory Peerless.

After changing branches, Zhou Qing quickly dispatched eleven more zombies. Just as he prepared to strike a twelfth, a figure darted from the distant gray woods, racing toward the abandoned village. This figure moved with remarkable speed, far outpacing the lesser zombies, its movements almost human save for a slight stiffness.

“A corpse lord,” Zhou Qing muttered, his attention caught by the sudden arrival.

The figure reached the edge of the village, unleashing a deep, resonant howl. Instantly, the zombies beneath Zhou Qing ceased their shrieking, silently hopping aside. As the small zombies made way, the figure approached the old tree and met Zhou Qing’s gaze. He saw that, instead of pupils, its eyes were entirely blood-red.

It was not his first time seeing a corpse lord, so Zhou Qing calmly formed a seal with one hand, tapping his forehead to cast an Eight Extremes Barrier. Then, grasping Illusory Peerless, he leapt down from the old tree.

Though the corpse lord’s movements were nearly indistinguishable from a living person’s, it could not speak. Zhou Qing wasted no words, reshaping Illusory Peerless into a great blade and striking down at the creature.

The corpse lord was small, even shorter than an ordinary person, while Zhou Qing stood tall by comparison. His blade swept for its neck, but the creature lunged, clawed hands reaching for him. With the protection of the Eight Extremes Barrier, Zhou Qing paid no heed to its attack, focusing instead on delivering his blow.

Illusory Peerless, now a great blade, crashed down with a sharp crack, stopped by the bone beneath the corpse lord’s flesh. He recalled striking a corpse lord before—his blade then had also been stopped by the creature’s bones. But this time, he felt his weapon bite deeper into the bone than before.

And now, Zhou Qing even detected a flicker of pain upon the corpse lord’s face.