Chapter Twelve: The Eternal Way of Corpses

Watching Long Shaoxian stride toward him, Luo Longyu hurriedly moved to meet him and immediately asked, “Shaoxian, you’re just in time. What’s going on? Why are we—”

“Don’t talk. Come with me.” Long Shaoxian brushed past Luo Longyu, murmuring in a low voice.

Seeing Long Shaoxian acting so secretively, the cloud of suspicion in Luo Longyu’s heart grew heavier. He cast a wary glance at Long Shaoxian’s flawless back but decided to follow nonetheless.

Long Shaoxian led Luo Longyu into the armory, rummaged through cabinets and shelves, and said coolly, “Take off your clothes.”

“What? What are you planning?” Luo Longyu blurted out, stunned, instinctively taking a step back, a look of defiance on his face as if to say he wasn’t someone easily trifled with.

Glancing at Luo Longyu as though looking at an idiot, Long Shaoxian said, “Just do as you’re told and stop wasting time.”

Seeing that Long Shaoxian was in no mood for nonsense, Luo Longyu hesitated, then reluctantly began to undress as instructed. He had just taken off his trousers when Long Shaoxian pulled out a set of military camouflage fatigues from a trunk and tossed them to him. “Put these on.”

Dressed in camouflage, helmet strapped on, goggles over his eyes, and his face covered, Luo Longyu now looked every bit the part of a special forces soldier. Accepting the Type 95 assault rifle Long Shaoxian handed him, Luo Longyu could no longer contain his curiosity. “What exactly are we doing? Why do you want me dressed like this?”

Perhaps annoyed by Luo Longyu’s incessant questions, Long Shaoxian took a deep breath. “Luo Longyu, are you truly clueless or just pretending? Can’t you see your current situation? Listen, I’m getting you out of the Xuan Yi Center right now. It’s not safe for you here. Remember who you are—you’re of the Corpse Clan, understand? Someone wants you dead.”

“What?” Luo Longyu froze, unable to process this at first. He had no idea whom he’d offended, yet now found himself inexplicably marked for death.

Long Shaoxian gave him no further time to react. After speaking, he handed Luo Longyu a bulging backpack. “Take the rifle, don’t draw attention, and follow me.” With that, he strode out of the armory.

Still in a daze, Luo Longyu followed Long Shaoxian, his mind echoing with those words: “Someone wants you dead.” The curiosity that had burned in him earlier was now gone, replaced by a muddle of confusion. He trailed after Long Shaoxian, winding through corridors, switching elevators three times, until at last they emerged at ground level.

Sunlight filtered sparsely through dense canopies, dappling the forest floor. Towering ancient trees surrounded them, birds sang among fragrant blossoms, and all was peaceful and serene—enough to soothe the spirit. Clearly, this was a secret passage out of the Xuan Yi Center, and it was evident this wasn’t the only one.

He glanced down and saw strange patterns flash briefly beneath his feet; the environment seemed to shift and yet remain unchanged. Luo Longyu guessed it was some kind of hidden array concealing the passage. After the past few days dealing with the Xuan Yi Pavilion, he knew the people here practiced skills beyond all scientific explanation.

“Hurry up,” Long Shaoxian urged from behind.

Luo Longyu turned to look at him. “Who wants me dead? Whom have I offended?”

Long Shaoxian studied him. After all, Luo Longyu was just eighteen—a child, really. In all honesty, Long Shaoxian was certain Luo Longyu hadn’t provoked anyone. Everything that had happened these past days was a whirlwind, and Luo Longyu had been swept up without understanding a thing.

“Luo Longyu, some things aren’t about whom you’ve offended. It’s your lineage—it’s fate, understand? Ordinary lives are full of strange happenings, and sometimes trouble finds you whether you want it or not. All the more so because you’re not ordinary. Your world will never be peaceful. There are clothes in your bag; change out of the fatigues—they’re too conspicuous. We’ll meet again.” With that, Long Shaoxian turned away.

Seeing that Long Shaoxian had nothing more to say, Luo Longyu was silent for a moment, then gave a wry smile, asked nothing further, and quickly changed into his own clothes. He handed the rifle and camouflage gear back to Long Shaoxian. “Honestly, I regret ever meeting you all. I’m leaving.”

By the time Long Shaoxian turned back, Luo Longyu had already disappeared into the forest. Staring at the spot where he’d vanished, Long Shaoxian picked up the rifle and fatigues and stood in silence for a long time.

Luo Longyu pressed onward. Ever since the mysterious chanting had echoed in his mind, he’d felt stronger each day, his stride swift and tireless, almost like the walking dead. He didn’t know if this change was good or bad, but he disliked it—he preferred being an ordinary person. Yet deep down, he knew there was no going back; after all, his mother was Xuan Yuan Qianqian, no ordinary person herself.

Night fell, and Luo Longyu emerged from the woods, walking alone along a deserted national road. He mulled over many things: he was half-corpse, his mother was from the legendary Xuan Yuan ancient clan, his grandfather had told him nothing, and then there was the mysterious chanting that could stir a terrifying power inside him, driving him to madness and losing all control. He still understood none of it and felt like a stranger to himself—and to the entire world.

He had walked for about two hours when rain began to fall. Cursing under his breath, Luo Longyu spotted a small bridge ahead, slipped under its shelter, and lit a campfire. As the drizzle pattered outside, his mind was in turmoil.

By chance, he turned and noticed the backpack Long Shaoxian had given him. He opened it and found a cellphone, a stack of cash, his ID card, and a change of clothes. At the bottom, he discovered a bamboo tube. Shaking it, he heard something inside.

He unscrewed the tube and tipped out a roll of yellowed parchment, densely covered with writing. By firelight, Luo Longyu could make out the characters.

The parchment resembled a scroll, headed by four ancient characters: “Notes on the Corpse Path.”

Judging by the handwriting, the scroll was very old and had been written by many hands: it began with brushstrokes, followed by entries in fountain pen, then ballpoint, each section ending with a signature—all bearing the surname Xuan Yuan.

Skimming through, Luo Longyu struggled with the archaic and traditional script, but the later sections became more comprehensible. The scroll contained detailed accounts of the legends of the Corpse Path.

“The Corpse Path: gathers spirits into yin, transforms extreme yin into yang, holding both yin and yang, undying and indestructible. Zombies are not the Corpse Path. It carries spirit in yin, begins with death, seizes fortune, returns to divine consciousness—that is the Corpse Path. The Corpse Path is a vessel of yin and yang, fearing neither life nor death, called the Primordial Body. Yet because it breaks the cycle of reincarnation, it is rejected by heaven and earth. Moreover, the Corpse Path is perilous; it requires constant self-control. Those who fail become zombies—soulless, mindless, feeding on blood, a great evil. Thus, the Corpse Path has fallen into obscurity and is seen as heresy. The Corpse Path is the ultimate weapon, only to be used in the face of apocalypse. Remember this well. This scroll is the Xuan Yuan clan’s record of the Corpse Path. May it never be opened.”

So began the scroll, left by some ancient ancestor of the Xuan Yuan clan. From the tone, it was clear the ancestor deeply hoped the Corpse Path would never again appear in the world, unless faced with an apocalypse. According to Elder Ge, Luo Longyu’s half-corpse state was his mother’s doing. Did that mean the world was facing annihilation—perhaps an invasion by the Void Clan?

“Corpse Path… the ultimate weapon created by human hands…” Luo Longyu murmured. Suddenly, he understood that the zombies of legend were not the true Corpse Path. According to the records, the Corpse Path was ancient, and unlike the bloodthirsty zombies of myth, it was entirely different. Because the path was so difficult to follow, many practitioners in history lost control and became bloodthirsty monsters, earning the Corpse Path a reputation for evil.

The scroll recounted that the first Corpse Path practitioner in China’s history was a woman named Ba, daughter of the Yellow Emperor Xuan Yuan. She was not a bloodsucking monster but a hero who helped her father unify the land and defeat Chiyou, advancing the unification of China.

Others, inspired by Ba’s power, tried to follow the Corpse Path, but most failed, becoming calamities to the world. These zombies all shared one trait—they were not of Xuan Yuan blood.

“Could it be…the Corpse Path is suited only for Xuan Yuan blood?” Luo Longyu smacked his forehead, suddenly enlightened.

With this thought, he flipped to the final entry, signed by his own mother. The handwriting was delicate and gave Luo Longyu a strange sense of familiarity—a connection, as it was his mother’s script.

“Xuan Yuan Qianqian, 2,583rd descendant of the Xuan Yuan clan. Year 1945, the year of Yi You. The myriad corpse tomb grows increasingly restless. I sense a gaze from beyond the stars. My father, Xuan Yuan Yi, vanished into the cosmos and did not return, leaving only a fragment of a message: apocalypse, the Corpse Path must reopen. For this, I am preparing to activate the Corpse Path. Year 2000, year of Geng Chen. The myriad corpse tomb nears its peak. In my dreams, I have seen the apocalypse—perhaps visions of the past or the future, I cannot say. But I can feel malice from the depths of the stars.

Year 2001, year of the Snake. Ten months pregnant. Though my heart grieves, I have no other choice. To activate the Corpse Path, a Xuan Yuan must die, their body transformed into a field of yin, and their unborn child rendered half-corpse. The child is a boy, taking his father’s surname, named Longyu. He should be a lovely child. Forgive me, my son. Today is a yin day. I have found a place for nurturing the corpse. May my son be safe. Xuan Yuan Qianqian, final words.”

Reading these lines, Luo Longyu could no longer hold back his grief. Only now did he realize his mother had ended her own life, burying herself alive so that her child would become half-corpse. Though her words for her child were few, the affection and reluctance shone through every line.

“Mother…” Luo Longyu clutched the parchment, weeping like a child. He gazed up at the rain-shrouded night sky. What was that malice lurking in the depths of the stars? Was it the Void Clan? His grandfather had vanished into the stars—where had he gone? What had happened?

In that moment, Luo Longyu was seized by an unprecedented urge—a desire to overturn the heavens and uncover every secret.

But before that, there was something he had to do: become a true practitioner of the Corpse Path, not a mere zombie. Only through the Corpse Path could he gain the power to uncover all history, to understand himself, and to understand his mother.