Chapter 007: From Beyond the Heavens

A low, metallic cry, sharp as the clash of gold and iron, suddenly rang out. Instantly, everyone inside and outside the house fell silent, their faces drained of color, ears buzzing.

A master!

Su Jingxing, startled, turned to look toward the doorway.

A sturdy figure stood there—though not particularly tall, just a bit over one meter seventy. He wore a common training robe, a long blade hanging at his waist. His movements were calm, betraying not a hint of his aura. His features were ordinary, but his eyes were razor-sharp, like the edge of a blade, forcing others to avert their gaze.

“Captain.”

“Captain, you’re finally here.”

The crowd gathered outside the door instinctively parted, creating a wider path for him to enter. Regardless of gender, everyone smiled obsequiously at the newcomer, their eyes filled with both fear and admiration.

Wu Anxun!

The captain of the security team in the forestry town—a seventh-rank master! Compared to the portly, pig-like director of the forestry station, Wu Anxun was the true cornerstone of the town, the guardian of hundreds of thousands of acres of mountain forest.

When Su Jingxing had tried to find him earlier, he was told Wu Anxun was still in seclusion. Unexpectedly, he had emerged just now.

The moment Wu Anxun appeared, all eyes, both inside and outside the house, shifted to him. Wu Anxun’s face was stern, his gaze fierce. Before he even stepped inside, the forestry station director, with a sycophantic smile, hurried forward to greet him, “Brother Wu, you’ve come out of seclusion? Oh, it’s just a minor matter—didn’t expect it to disturb you, sorry about that.”

Su Jingxing: “…”

Others: “…”

The director certainly knew how to read the room. Though he managed all matters in the town apart from security, as an ordinary person, facing a seventh-rank martial master like Wu Anxun, his deference was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Are you the one causing trouble?” Wu Anxun ignored the director, his cold, piercing gaze settling on Gu Bo.

“I… I’m not causing trouble,” Gu Bo replied, somewhat intimidated.

Wu Anxun’s aura was in a different league from Zhou Hongsong or the station director.

“I only noticed something unusual about the wounds on these bodies,” Gu Bo said, swallowing hard and forcing himself to stay calm. He walked to the nearest corpse, crouched down, and pointed at two sewn-together pieces exposed under the shroud. With a solemn tone, he said, “Captain Wu, please take a look at this cut—was it made by a beast’s claws or a weapon?”

Wu Anxun frowned and stepped forward, staring intently at the wound.

Suddenly, his expression changed. He strode quickly forward and tore the shroud off the body.

“Ah!” A collective gasp erupted from the crowd at the door as they recoiled in horror.

The body beneath the shroud was mangled into more than a dozen pieces, barely reassembled to resemble a person. Though they had seen this brutality once already, the sight still filled them with terror.

It was truly horrific!

If Su Jingxing hadn’t grown accustomed to corpses lately, he wouldn’t have dared look twice. Yet, more than the carnage, he was curious about Wu Anxun’s reaction.

The seventh-rank master now looked ashen, the fierce light in his eyes nearly tangible, threatening to pierce the air.

In one swift motion, Wu Anxun swept his gaze over the dismembered body, then strode forward and tore the shroud off another corpse. Without pause, he continued, uncovering the rest.

One after another, all the shrouds were stripped away in a single breath.

Ten mutilated bodies were now exposed to the air.

Wu Anxun, his face grim, inspected each one carefully. Throughout the process, not a single person spoke, all waiting quietly for Wu Anxun to finish his examination.

Su Jingxing, too, waited for the verdict. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Zhou Hongsong trembling violently.

What was happening?

“Is he… afraid?” Su Jingxing wondered, a sudden realization dawning.

“How is it, Captain Wu?” After Wu Anxun finished examining the bodies, Gu Bo cleared his throat and broke the silence, asking, “Are these wounds caused by ‘corpse puppets’?”

Corpse puppets?

Su Jingxing was momentarily stunned, but his face soon changed dramatically. “Captain, are you serious?”

The others outside were equally shocked.

“What? Corpse puppets? Is that true?”

“Impossible! No one here died outside—how could there be corpse puppets?”

“I don’t believe it. It can’t be corpse puppets!”

“Captain Wu, is it true?”

The crowd erupted in chaos, voices rising in panic. Fear surged across every face.

Corpse puppets!

These two words carried dreadful significance. For behind them lay an even greater terror.

Celestial parasitic insects!

More precisely, a species known as ‘Corpse-Raising Worms.’

Over eighty years ago, a swarm of visitors descended upon Earth Star—demonic insects from beyond the sky! These otherworldly bugs, varied in type and ability, possessed devastating power. Upon arrival, they unleashed a series of disasters across the planet.

Among them were the Corpse-Raising Worms.

This name was given to them for their peculiar ability: their eggs could burrow into dead bodies and control the corpse, forcing it to stand and move once more.

Once reanimated, these puppet corpses became formidable.

Their hardened bodies were impervious to blades and bullets; their claws were razor-sharp and strong as steel; they could run as fast as a cheetah, and their savagery surpassed even the wild tribes.

Ordinary people, confronted by one, had no hope but death.

Even a ninth-rank martial artist, facing one alone, could only flee.

Only eighth-rank masters could barely contend with them.

This ability made Corpse-Raising Worms a scourge. After their arrival, they triggered waves of ‘corpse puppet’ massacres across the land.

Faced with armies of thousands of corpse puppets, even first-rank martial artists could only run for their lives.

The horror of corpse puppets eventually forced nations to exhume every buried body and burn them to ashes.

No exceptions—any corpse, regardless of identity, had to be cremated.

Crematoriums overnight became vital government institutions—essential to every city.

Earth Star’s nations decreed that any death must be followed by cremation. Private cremation was subject to severe penalties if discovered.

In the early days of these laws, some gambled, believing the Corpse-Raising Worms’ eggs wouldn’t find their loved ones, and secretly substituted cattle or sheep for cremation, burying human bodies intact underground.

Inevitably, every such corpse became host to the worms.

No one knew how the worms found human bodies, nor why they only targeted human remains.

All anyone saw were corpses controlled by worm eggs, transformed into corpse puppets, leaping from the ground to slaughter indiscriminately.

If the ten-person mountain patrol from the forestry town had truly fallen to corpse puppets, it meant someone had died recently—and been secretly buried underground.

Who was it?

…

(Second update—please vote for recommendations)