Chapter Sixty-Three: The French Scholar

Early the next morning.

Li Yang finished his day of cultivation and headed toward the outskirts of Renjia Town.

“Nephew, you’re here! Come on, get in the carriage, we’ve been waiting for you,” Ren Fa called out warmly as soon as he spotted Li Yang from afar. A few carriages were parked outside the town, and Ren Fa hurried over to greet him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Uncle!” After exchanging polite words, Li Yang mounted the rear carriage.

The group traveled in silence. After a full day’s journey, with dusk already settling, they finally arrived at the Renjia Town where Master Ren’s cousin resided.

This town was not large—about the same size as Ren Fa’s hometown. Though small, it had all the essentials.

By the time Li Yang and the others reached Master Ren’s cousin’s estate, night had fallen completely.

Before they even arrived, they could see the manor ablaze with lights, hear the mournful music and cries echoing from within.

“What’s going on…?”

“Father… What happened?” Ren Zhuzhu couldn’t sit still any longer. She leapt from the carriage and rushed into the manor.

“Fourth Brother, you’re here! Please, come in.” A middle-aged man in mourning attire, his head wrapped in white cloth, emerged from the hall to greet Ren Fa, his face full of grief.

“Seventh Brother, what happened?” Ren Fa asked as they crossed the courtyard, his gaze falling upon the large black-and-white character for ‘memorial’ displayed prominently at the end of the hall.

“Father could not hold on any longer a few days ago… he’s passed,” the man said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “It happened so suddenly, I didn’t have time to inform you sooner. I had to arrange the funeral in haste.”

“Where is Third Uncle’s body now? Has it been brought home?” Ren Fa asked urgently.

“Don’t worry, Fourth Brother. I’ve already asked Daoist Master Ma Ma Di from the Maoshan Sect to help transport father’s body back. It should arrive within a day or two.”

Upon hearing his cousin’s explanation, Master Ren said nothing more, changed into mourning garb, and joined the procession of mourners.

For the next few days, the Ren family was in a flurry of activity. Having no particular duties, Li Yang wandered the town. During this time, Ren Fa introduced him to some business associates. Seeing Ren Fa’s attitude, Ren Zhuzhu’s family treated Li Yang as one of their own, leaving him somewhat ill at ease.

…

A week passed in the town. The funeral for the old Master Ren was nearly complete, yet the body had still not arrived.

Li Yang suspected that, as in the original tale, the old Master Ren’s corpse had already been lost by Ma Ma Di and his apprentice.

In the past few days, Li Yang had already learned the location of the French doctor’s laboratory in town. He took advantage of the night to slip over quietly.

As soon as he entered, he witnessed the doctor removing the corpse-suppressing talisman from Ren Tiantang’s forehead. Ren Tiantang’s corpse sprang upright, seized the French doctor’s head, and was about to bite down.

“Fiend! Cease your madness!” Li Yang shouted, startled by the scene, and charged forward.

In Li Yang’s view, the only valuable figure among these musical zombies was the scientist conducting human research; as for Ren Tiantang’s corpse, though unusual, it was of little use to him now.

Li Yang leapt forward, a swift motion infused with tremendous force, and Ren Tiantang was instantly flung across the room, crashing hard against the wall.

“Zombie…” Li Yang ignored the three terrified thugs cowering in the corner. He helped the French doctor up, ensuring he hadn’t been bitten, and finally relaxed.

“Who are you? Are you a Chinese Daoist?” The French doctor, regaining his composure, asked in heavily accented Chinese.

“You’ll soon know who I am.” Li Yang’s lips curled into a cold smile. He did not reply directly, but uttered a strange incantation. His eyes glowed crimson, casting their light into the doctor’s eyes.

At that moment, Ren Tiantang’s corpse crawled up from the floor. After a loud roar, it glanced fearfully at Li Yang, then turned and bolted out the door.

“This mutated zombie clearly possesses intelligence beyond the ordinary. Well, let Ma Ma Di and his apprentice suffer for it; it’s no bad thing. Perhaps they’ll stop parading around, tarnishing the Maoshan Sect’s reputation,” Li Yang thought, watching Ren Tiantang’s hasty escape. He made no move to pursue, allowing the story to unfold as it would.

“Where do you think you’re going…?” Sensing the three thugs sneaking away behind him, Li Yang chuckled coldly.

“Master… We’re just trying to make a living, nothing truly wicked. Please spare us,” the thugs pleaded, their faces plastered with ingratiating smiles.

“I detest petty thieves and scoundrels like you. Allow me to send you on your way.” Li Yang’s eyes flashed coldly as he turned toward them, and he released the golden toad.

“Croak…”

“Master… spare us…”

“Mother! Monster…!”

“Ahhh…”

Their cries and pleas for mercy were cut short as the golden toad devoured them one by one, not even leaving a scrap of clothing behind.

Li Yang put the golden toad away and looked at the dazed French doctor beside him. From his sleeve, he produced a tiny invisible black worm and fed it into the doctor’s mouth.

“Heaven clear and earth bright, grant me spirit: Pact!”

He bit his finger, pressed a drop of vivid red blood onto the doctor’s forehead, then nodded in satisfaction, releasing the soul-capturing spell.

“What…what have you done to me…ah…no…don’t…” As the spell was lifted, a crimson rune flared on the doctor’s forehead, his face flushed, and he rolled on the ground in agony.

“You are bound by my blood pact. Only my blood can release you. I need you to help me with some research—what do you say?” Li Yang said, watching the doctor’s reaction with satisfaction.

Of course, Li Yang’s words were mostly bluff. The so-called blood pact was simply a gu worm nurtured with his own blood, which would take effect once ingested. Claiming it was unbreakable was nonsense; it had many limitations and, if overused, could easily backfire. Anyone with stronger vitality than Li Yang could dispel it with a single drop of blood. It was, in fact, rather useless.

Moreover, the pact could only be established if the recipient offered no resistance; otherwise, Li Yang wouldn’t have bothered to subdue him with the soul-capturing spell first.

But given the strength of his blood now, unless faced with a legendary immortal, the pact was indeed nearly impossible to break.

“No…never…you devil…God will not forgive you!” The French doctor screamed, his face contorted with rage.

Li Yang laughed, “God? Excellent. I welcome Him to punish me anytime. I like your stubbornness.”

Li Yang was in no hurry. The agony of the blood pact would multiply with time, eventually tormenting its victim to death. The last thing he feared was stubborn resistance.