Chapter 81: The Great Fire

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“Hundred-Slayer? Without realizing it, have I already killed so many zombies?” Fan Li could hardly believe that slaying zombies had brought him an unexpected reward. The Monster Handbook made it clear: this was a prize that only appeared after dispatching a certain number of ordinary zombies.

Yet this time, the achievement did not grant him a new trait, but rather a one-use consumable called the Corpse-Sealing Talisman.

As these thoughts crossed his mind, Fan Li suddenly felt his backpack shift against his back. Inside were the music box and the Monster Handbook.

Now that he had acquired Petrified Skin, there was no need for him to wear heavy clothes. For convenience, he only carried a backpack to keep essential items close at hand.

He unzipped the bag and flipped open the Monster Handbook. At some unknown moment, a sheet of yellowed paper had appeared, inscribed with a line of crimson characters: “By command, the mountain corpse fiend is respectfully beheaded.”

“So this is the Corpse-Sealing Talisman?” Fan Li’s curiosity was piqued, and at that moment, several lines of blood-red text appeared before his eyes.

Sin, once stained, can never be washed away.

All bloodshed is born out of utter despair, where not a single glimmer of light remains.

You have obtained a one-use summoning item: Corpse-Sealing Talisman.

Note: Neither living nor dead, neither destroyed nor perished, neither beast nor reincarnated soul. When a person dies and stiffens, they become a Kuí; and when the Kuí falls, it becomes immortal.

Since the primary summoning medium does not exist, a coffin must serve as the vessel to summon the Kuí.

Affection: Absolute obedience.

Caution: During the summoning, avoid moonlight and black cats. If the Kuí’s consciousness awakens without a primary medium, it will descend into madness, only regaining composure after consuming enough blood.

The scarlet text faded, and Fan Li woke from his trance. He vaguely recalled that during his first summoning, a narrow room had appeared before him, filled with strange objects, and in the corner was a sinister coffin covered in densely packed talismans.

That first encounter with the Monster Handbook was seared into his memory, and just now, the Handbook had hinted again: lacking a primary medium, he would have to provide a coffin for the summoning ritual.

If every object in that room represented a monster, just how long had the Monster Handbook been collecting—hundreds of years, centuries?—to gather all those horrors together?

Fan Li dared not imagine what would happen if the Handbook’s great door were ever thrown open, the contents scattered across the world, each monster completing its descent ritual. The world would truly be plunged into despair, never to see daylight again.

Each item was a summoning medium for a monster.

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Clearly, the item obtained this time was akin to an in-game trial voucher: when necessary, one could use a coffin to complete the summoning and call forth the Kuí.

It seemed every monster required some special summoning condition—Ellie’s feeding, the Butcher’s bloodletting. And now, to summon the Kuí, a coffin was needed. Wasn’t that a bit excessive?

If the main summoning medium were truly brought forth, would he have to carry a coffin everywhere he went?

Besides, cremation was now the law of the land. Most remains were reduced to ashes and stored in urns; burials were rare. If he needed a coffin, perhaps some could still be found in rural graveyards.

Grave-robbing?

Fan Li pictured himself, in the dead of night, shovel in hand, digging up a coffin to paste the Corpse-Sealing Talisman upon it and complete the final summoning.

He let out a bitter laugh.

These monsters were possessed of a wicked, unspeakable sense of humor. Still, Fan Li was hardly alone—besides Ellie and the Butcher, the Monster Handbook also contained the remnants of the Fog Monster and the Nightmare. He felt no urgent need to summon the Kuí.

“There’s no need to search on purpose. If I come across one during my explorations, so be it.”

Having made up his mind, Fan Li tucked the talisman back into the Monster Handbook.

He slung his backpack over his shoulders. Just as he was about to urge his companions to speed up their search, he noticed the world growing darker in the distance. He craned his neck to look.

A column of thick smoke appeared on the horizon.

It was unmistakably a massive fire; the smoke billowed so densely that it painted the sky above in pitch black.

Zombies do not set fires. Cooked flesh is nothing to them; only fresh blood and meat entice them.

Which meant, most likely, the fire was set by human hands.

They must have encountered danger and were using the flames as a plea for help.

Fan Li could vividly picture the scene: desperate people huddled within the inferno, while zombies prowled on all sides, clawing and rending. The people fought back, but the numbers were overwhelming.

Cries and wails filled the air. Their former lives were shattered in an instant. Some men blocked doors with furniture, trying in vain to keep the zombies at bay, but the press of the undead made resistance futile.

What was once a safe haven had become a living hell.

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Zombies swarmed over the people, biting deep, pulling out entrails, rending open chests. Their black, fetid nails tore flesh like butchers ripping lamb. Only now, the feast’s offerings were not tender lambs but the very diners who once raised their cups in laughter and song.

There had been countless ways to prepare food—shrill-squeal pork, fire-roasted donkey, monkey brains doused in oil. At the top of the food chain, humans invented endless recipes to whet their own appetites.

Now everything had changed. Zombies were the diners, and humanity—the screaming, pleading food—was served up to amuse them.

Despair spread like wildfire. Those who remained lit great blazes, making a final, futile struggle. They desperately hoped someone would come to save them, to lead them out of hell.

A while later, Yang Shuo and the others emerged from the pharmacy. The fire had grown so fierce, the smoke so thick, that half the county was shrouded in darkness.

The group stood in place, faces marked with the same troubling questions, some deeper realization flickering in their eyes.

“Let’s go home.”

After a moment’s silent exchange, Fan Li turned and walked away from the fire.

Though Fan Li was capable of exploration, he understood the risks—he knew almost nothing of what lay beyond.

Reckless compassion was a betrayal of himself.

Every survivor struggled to live. When Fan Li forced open doors and slew zombies, no one had come to his aid.

To endure the darkness, to become accustomed to it—that was the fate of all who survived.

The law of survival.

This world had already changed beyond recognition. Fan Li could not save others. All he could do was save himself—and protect the little he still possessed.

Perhaps this was cold, but Fan Li knew one thing: to survive, he must learn not to meddle in the affairs of others!