Chapter Thirty-Two: The Corpse Transforms

After uttering those two words, Wang Feiyang swung his fist directly at the bus uncle, but his punch was instantly caught. With a gentle push, the bus uncle sent Wang Feiyang stumbling toward me.

I hurried to steady him, then asked, “How did you suddenly appear here? Who brought you to Dongmen Village?”

Wang Feiyang said he didn’t know. He woke up that night and found himself here. Then he saw the bus driver dressed in the ghost woman’s clothes, playing a flute, luring the survey team into the reservoir to drown them all.

“Are you sure you didn’t see it wrong?”

“I’m sure.” Wang Feiyang answered firmly. “And I discovered something else.”

“What is it?” I pressed.

Instead of answering, Wang Feiyang turned and stared hard at the bus uncle. He spoke slowly and deliberately: “There isn’t actually a Route 104 bus in the county, is there?”

His words stunned me, and the bus uncle’s face changed as well.

Without another word, Wang Feiyang grabbed my arm and strode toward the nearby bus—a double-decker coach converted for public transit. “Wu Dao, haven’t you always wanted to know what’s kept in the second level of this bus? I’ll show you right now!”

In no time, we stood before the bus. The bus uncle followed behind with a dark, brooding expression, saying nothing and making no move to stop us. Who knew what he was thinking?

Wang Feiyang boarded first, swinging his bamboo knife to smash open the lock on the second level entry. He yanked the door wide and went straight upstairs.

As the door opened, a blast of icy air swept over me, making me shudder. At the same time, a putrid stench invaded my nostrils, churning my stomach.

I followed Wang Feiyang up to the second level, and in the next moment, I froze in place.

There, the upper deck was filled not with missing seats, but with a whole busload of mangled corpses.

I gasped, cold sweat pouring down my back, and bolted downstairs. My stomach heaved violently, and I couldn’t help but vomit.

The bus was packed with bodies, all mutilated, frozen by the chilling air, covered in a thin mist of frost. I had no idea how long they’d been dead or why they died. Whenever the bus moved, they would slide across the floor, making a screeching sound as they scraped along.

I vomited for ages, feeling as if I’d expelled even the bile from my stomach. My scalp tingled with terror. Wang Feiyang soon came down, glanced coldly at the impassive bus uncle, and demanded, “Now, do you have anything to say?”

“Wu Dao…”

The bus uncle seemed about to speak, but I cut him off, conflicted and anxious. “Who are you, really? What are you after?”

“Wu Dao, believe me, I won’t harm you.”

“How am I supposed to trust you now?” I nearly shouted at him. “If you want to prove you’re not in league with that ghost woman, then go. Leave, right now!”

“Wu Dao…”

“Get out!”

Dragging Wang Feiyang with me, I raced toward the reservoir’s embankment. The bus uncle seemed about to follow, but I yelled at him to stay back. I wanted him gone, far away; even if he wasn’t working with the ghost woman, I could never trust someone who drove around with a whole busload of corpses.

My words seemed to wound him. Sadness flickered across his face. He turned away, climbed back onto the bus, started the engine, and drove into the distance.

I stood dumbly on the reservoir embankment, staring at the bodies floating everywhere. I felt myself unraveling.

“Come out! Show yourself! What the hell do you want?” I roared at the water, nearly ready to jump in. Wang Feiyang grabbed me just in time, urging me to calm down.

I glared at him, bloodshot eyes burning. “Why? Why is everyone around me like this? Zuodao Yin, Luo Xiu, this bus uncle—they were all people I trusted most, but in the end, it’s as if they all approached me with ulterior motives. None of them are worth trusting.”

“Wang Feiyang, what about you? I’ve always considered you my best brother. Are you just like them?”

For a moment, Wang Feiyang’s icy face softened, but he quickly returned to his cold expression. Suddenly, from the direction of the reservoir, there was a splashing sound.

A flicker of terror crossed Wang Feiyang’s face.

“Run, Wu Dao!”

As soon as he spoke, Wang Feiyang dragged me toward the tents at a dead sprint. Glancing back, I saw the bodies floating in the water beginning to move.

They slapped the surface with their hands, climbing onto the shore with terrifying speed, then limped after us in pursuit.

“They’re turning into zombies!”

A shudder ran through me, and my mind cleared instantly. Just then, the foremost corpse grabbed my shoulder—it moved faster than I’d ever imagined.

Without thinking, I bit open my middle finger, swiftly drew a Thunder Talisman on my palm. As the corpse was about to bite my neck, I recited the incantation, spun around, and slapped its forehead hard.

With a scream, the corpse staggered back several steps before collapsing to the ground.

“How do you know Daoist arts?” Wang Feiyang asked, astonished.

“No time to explain!” In our desperate flight, we somehow ended up back in Dongmen Village, pursued by forty-odd zombie corpses.

Wang Feiyang drew his bamboo knife, hacking off the neck of the nearest corpse. But it made no difference—the creature ignored the wound, its head lolling as it lunged to bite him.

“Heaven and earth’s order, nine seals, thunder-fire in the palm, ten thousand ghosts suppressed!”

I struck again, slamming my palm onto the corpse’s forehead; with a squelch, its head flew off, the remaining body kneeling on the ground.

A wave of dizziness hit me. Suddenly, I felt weak all over, as if I’d just run a three-kilometer race. Clearly, using the Thunder Talisman drained my energy and spirit—just twice left me exhausted.

Seeing this, Wang Feiyang fought all the more fiercely. He seemed unfazed by fear or disgust, chopping off heads with each swing.

But faced with forty-plus corpses, even Wang Feiyang’s ferocity and my Thunder Talismans weren’t enough. Soon, the horde was less than five meters away, their faces twisted with viciousness.

“Run that way!”

I spotted a brick house up ahead. Its iron gate was rusted but intact. We dashed into the yard and slammed the gate shut.

Outside, fists pounded the door. Sweat drenched us, gasping for breath.

At that moment, I realized with a shock that I’d returned to the yard where the ghost marriage was held. The eerie sound of the zither echoed in my ears, and the dim dawn sky abruptly turned to night.

My heart trembled. I blinked, and suddenly found myself back twenty years ago.