Chapter Thirty-Two: What Are You Laughing At? Keep Crying!

In the darkness, under the moonlight, Muramasa’s blade glimmered with a chilling sheen.

Fan Li had never formally studied swordsmanship; he knew nothing of the proper ways to grip, raise, or strike with a blade. But one thing he understood well: where a zombie’s weakness lay, and how to dispatch the threat before him with the greatest speed.

Now, gripping the hilt tightly, Fan Li became as a starving wolf, swinging the sword down upon the zombie in a single, decisive motion.

A wet, tearing sound followed.

Fan Li felt the blade bite into something, but it didn’t feel like flesh. He glanced up, disbelief flickering across his face.

His katana had not struck the zombie’s body, but a mass of hair, tangled together like seaweed swirling in turbulent water, clustering and writhing restlessly.

This was the mutated zombie’s power!

One blow failed to finish it, but Fan Li did not linger. Fortunately, the hair, though growing quickly, could still be cut with ease. Regaining his composure, he slashed rapidly, severing the strands and escaping to the side.

The hair did not sway in the wind; instead, each lock stood upright, like venomous serpents arching their bodies, poised to envelop and devour Fan Li in the next moment.

Just then, the female zombie, who had been facing away from him, slowly turned around.

Her face was deathly pale, utterly bloodless, her eyes a chilling, opaque white, staring ahead as if blind. Yet her features remained flawless—unmarred and beautiful, lending her an uncanny, eerie allure.

Fan Li had to admit: since the apocalypse began, this was the most exquisite face he had seen.

Though the woman had mutated, her beauty was undiminished. The transformation of her body bestowed a forbidden, almost seductive charm—so striking that one’s gaze could hardly turn away.

“Is this another of her abilities?” Fan Li bit down hard on his tongue, forcing himself to stay alert.

By now, he realized this zombie possessed two abilities: endlessly growing hair and an uncanny power of allure.

He could easily imagine someone ensnared by her, their wits clouded, slowly approaching her. As man and monster entwined, the hair would creep stealthily over the man’s body.

The strands would coil about his neck, waist, and limbs, finally stabbing cruelly through the ears.

By the time the man sensed something amiss, he would already be engulfed by hair. In the midst of his desperate screams, the hair would force its way down his throat, filling his body, even wrapping tightly around his heart—constricting, suffocating him until his heart stopped.

Such a death was twisted, unnatural, but perfectly in keeping with the ways of monsters.

Her rapid evolution astonished Fan Li, and it implicitly confirmed the terror that was the Titan. Just a few mutilated remains had driven this female zombie to mutate so drastically!

He dared not imagine what horrors her fully evolved form might unleash.

There was no room for two tigers on one mountain—even if one was male and the other female. One was a man, the other a corpse; Fan Li could not afford to leave such a threat lurking in his path.

Instinctively, his hand closed around the music box, but in the end, he restrained himself from winding it.

Dangerous as the situation was, it remained within the bounds of his control.

A tinkling laugh echoed through the night—no longer the sobbing from before, but a crisp, crystalline sound.

She had wept when she failed to find food. Why did she laugh now? Was it joy at the sight of fresh flesh and blood?

Yet her laughter was hollow and mechanical, each note identically timed. The corners of her mouth stretched unnaturally high, baring a grin of wild delight.

Unlike the single-minded frenzy of ordinary zombies, this one, having entered the mutation phase, displayed a far wider range of expression.

On the pitch-black street, a zombie weeping and then laughing would have shattered the nerves of any normal person—but Fan Li was not of common stock.

His innate resistance to fear asserted itself. With every passing second, he found himself able to face her calmly, untroubled by stray thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Fan Li raised his katana and strode toward the zombie, step by step. “Why are you laughing? Keep crying for me!”

With those words, his walk became a run; gathering momentum, he charged straight at the zombie.

Not far away, Yang Shuo, still bracing the door, heard the sudden shout and nearly stumbled, on the verge of bolting back into his house.

He had been on edge from the beginning—the eerie sobbing had fallen silent, plunging the street into oppressive stillness, only for that chilling laughter to erupt. Just as he was beginning to adjust, Fan Li’s bellowed command rang out.

“Why are you laughing? Cry for me!”

Yang Shuo felt his knees go weak.

“So hot-tempered—what’s the point of arguing with a zombie?”

For a time, Yang Shuo suspected Fan Li’s mind was not quite right. Now, hearing him scold the zombie and demand that it continue crying, Yang Shuo was convinced: Fan Li truly had a screw loose.

Unaware of Yang Shuo’s thoughts, Fan Li focused all his mental strength on the zombie before him.

His vision sharpened once more.

He closed the distance between them again, and at this range, the scent of fresh blood was strong in his nostrils.

Clearly, this alluring zombie had devoured her share of humans in the past.

She was an aberration—a monster in human guise.

Just as with the petite figure of Ellie, that flawless, unmarred face was nothing but a mask to conceal the filth, wickedness, and venom beneath.

Any initial apprehension had been swept away by his second assault, replaced by pure, unbridled rage. The two were like starving wolves meeting head-on atop a narrow bridge—only one could cross, and only one could survive.

A resolute aura radiated from Fan Li, spreading outward. In that moment, he noticed something strange: the zombie’s laughter abruptly ceased, and even her hair froze in place, all pointing in a single direction.

Intimidation!

Fan Li’s pupils widened. This was a trait he had gained upon accepting Yang Shuo as his subordinate. Now, fueled by his fury and resolve, intimidation was triggered, sending the zombie into a state of stunned stupor.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

Fan Li’s charge reached its peak. At that instant, the ends of her hair began to stir—one strand, then two, then a small tuft. The effect had a time limit; the zombie was struggling to break free.

But she was too late.

With nothing to hinder him, Fan Li closed in. Mid-leap, he brought the katana down, the blade flashing with cold light, cleaving into the zombie’s neck.

A spray of foul blood erupted as Fan Li struck his target true.