Chapter 142: Silver Armored Corpse

I nodded and said, “I’ll do my best.”

Huaman Cheng said there was no need to rush. He glanced at Jiese and added that since it was rare for him to return home, he should rest well tonight, and they could discuss matters tomorrow—after all, his father wasn’t going to die anytime soon.

Jiese seemed deeply concerned about his father and obediently agreed. “Alright, Xiao Qi, let me take you to rest.”

Huaman Cheng stood up and escorted us upstairs. Originally, he had planned to serve dinner, but given how late it was, rest took priority.

Downstairs, Uncle Jianguo had already arrived, sitting with Xie Xiaoyu while Little Rascal nervously eyed their surroundings.

Huaman Cheng couldn’t help but praise, “Haven’t seen a native dog like this in years. So well-behaved.” Little Rascal, unable to understand human speech, let out a couple of uneasy barks.

Uncle Jianguo, seeing Huaman Cheng’s golden but exhausted face, took a step back and whispered to me, “Is that a Bronze Armored Corpse?”

I shook my head slightly. “What do you think? He ate some bugs. Not a Bronze Armored Corpse. If he were, you’d have been poisoned already.”

Strangely, Uncle Jianguo’s words carried an oddly mystical tone—like a half-immortal!

With an air of immortal grace!

Huaman Cheng wasn’t angry. “Master, did you say Bronze Armored Corpse? My name isn’t Bronze Armored Corpse—it’s Huaman Cheng. I’m sorry you had to face trouble in my territory tonight.”

However, the Hammer Lord behind him was furious, his beard bristling. If not for Huaman Cheng’s presence, the old man might have lunged at Uncle Jianguo for a lesson.

Clearly, the Hua family was used to throwing their weight around. Cutting off a group of people’s fingers over a single remark? Definitely not the kind to mess with.

This Hammer Lord was no ordinary man.

Uncle Jianguo, oblivious, added, “No worries, we got our dignity back in the end. Boss Hua sure knows how to make a statement—collecting a plate of fingers. Planning to fry them like fries?”

I stepped on Uncle Jianguo’s foot. Had his IQ dropped after hanging out with the loli Su Su? Couldn’t he read the room?

The Hammer Lord snorted. “What’s your problem?”

Uncle Jianguo feigned surprise. “No problem at all. Just admiring your ruthless efficiency—really broadened my horizons.” Sharp-eyed, Uncle Jianguo realized the Hua family’s dominance in Xi’an likely stemmed from a shady past, now whitewashed.

Uncle Jianguo had never been fond of such tactics.

Worried the Hammer Lord and Uncle Jianguo might come to blows, I quickly intervened, smoothing things over with a few words.

Huaman Cheng then instructed the Hammer Lord to take us to our rooms.

The Hammer Lord swiftly arranged our accommodations. After winding through dozens of meters, I realized the villa was far larger than I’d imagined.

“Goodnight,” the Hammer Lord said politely, though his eyes flickered toward Uncle Jianguo with a hint of challenge.

Still stunned, I took in the sprawling estate—independent villas, courtyards, and burly security guards with their fierce hounds lurking in the shadows. Each guard was muscular and imposing, clearly no ordinary men.

Jiese’s extravagant lifestyle was beyond my imagination. The same Jiese who played five-yuan poker on the train—connecting the two versions of him would require an extraordinary leap of imagination.

After finishing his talk with Huaman Cheng, Jiese came to our guest room.

Uncle Jianguo, too restless to sleep, joined us for a chat. The three of us gathered once more.

I checked my phone and saw Su Su’s vague Weibo post: “Had a bit of an unpleasant night, but there was this amazing uncle.”

Xie Xiaoyu had been eerily quiet all evening—unnervingly so.

I took out the peachwood figurine. Mo Bai immediately shouted at Jiese, “Rich guy! Let’s be friends!”

Jiese laughed. “Not my money—my dad’s. I’m just a monk.”

“What kind of business is your family in?” I couldn’t resist asking.

Jiese pulled out a deck of cards and started dealing. “After tonight’s excitement, I can’t sleep. Let’s play some poker—five yuan minimum.”

Uncle Jianguo picked up his cards. “Five yuan? Fine. Let’s play.”

Jiese didn’t answer, so I didn’t press further. As for why he became a monk—there had to be a reason. Maybe he had siblings.

“Jiese, do you have any brothers or sisters? If you’ve got a sister, I’m not a bad guy—what do you think?” I glanced at my hand—two jokers and four twos.

Jiese shook his head. “Only child. You know, the one-child policy.”

I grew even more curious. If Jiese was the family heir, why let him become a monk? Lost in thought, I accidentally played four twos with the two jokers.

I groaned in regret, trying to take them back, but Jiese refused, calling it cheating.

As we argued, a loud crash echoed through the villa—glass shattering, dogs barking furiously.

Xie Xiaoyu and Little Rascal grew agitated, especially Xie Xiaoyu, even more restless than the dog. I sensed an overwhelming, suffocating aura of death.

Jiese leapt up. “Trouble!” I grabbed my jade ruler and rushed to the living room.

Several Caucasian hounds lay dead on the floor, their blood splattered everywhere.

Seeing Jiese, Huaman Cheng yelled, “Take your friends back to rest. This isn’t your concern.”

Before Huaman Cheng stood the Hammer Lord, wielding a Green Dragon Crescent Blade—his swings comically exaggerated.

“With Hammer Lord here, no villain dares run wild!”

Uncle Jianguo and I exchanged glances.

“Xiao Qi,” Uncle Jianguo grumbled, “bad luck follows you everywhere. What’s this thing now?”

In the center of the room, a man bound by ropes stood motionless. His entire body shimmered silver—even his eyes. Despite the chilly early winter, he was bare-chested, his skin gleaming metallic.

No shoes, no socks.

Only a pair of black briefs with a white Nike swoosh. I felt oddly indignant—why not Adidas?

Uncle Jianguo asked, “Xiao Qi, figured it out yet?”

“Oh no. We’re done. It’s a Silver Armored Corpse.” My heart sank.

Bronze Armored Corpses were already formidable, requiring over a century to cultivate. A Silver Armored Corpse was exponentially harder to create—only a powerful family could achieve it. Its strength far surpassed that of a Bronze Armored Corpse.

“Silver Armored Corpse? How does it compare to a Bronze Armored Corpse? Didn’t we handle a Golden Armored Corpse before?” Uncle Jianguo remained calm.

Hearing “Silver Armored Corpse,” Huaman Cheng’s face paled.

The Hammer Lord faltered, stepping back as sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Uncle Jianguo, if you had to pick between a piece of silver and a piece of copper, which would you take?” I kept my eyes on the Silver Armored Corpse.

Uncle Jianguo chuckled. “Obviously silver—it’s worth more.” After a pause, he asked, “You mean…?”

“Exactly.” I nodded grimly.

Silver was sold by the gram, copper by the ton. The difference in power between a Silver and Bronze Armored Corpse mirrored their monetary value.

Everything in the world has its counter. There must be a way to subdue a Silver Armored Corpse—but I didn’t know it, and even if I did, there was no time.

I glanced at Xie Xiaoyu. Unlike her domineering presence before the Bronze Armored Corpse, she seemed uneasy. Clearly, she wasn’t the solution.

The *Compendium* had no detailed records on Silver Armored Corpses, only mentioning they had a counterpart—Silver Stiffs.

Later, I found some ancient texts.

The difference? Silver Armored Corpses were man-made, products of generations of effort. Bronze Armored Corpses were fed human brains, while the Silver Armored Corpse’s diet remained a closely guarded secret—certainly nothing wholesome.

In contrast, Silver Stiffs were naturally occurring zombies, emerging with a pure, radiant silver glow—far more striking than the artificial sheen of a Silver Armored Corpse.

Strangely, Silver Stiffs retained human-like intelligence—sometimes even surpassing it in cunning.

Among the books Xie Lingyu bought me, I found one case—a late Qing Dynasty feng shui master named Meng Shaokun subdued a Silver Stiff in Jiangxi.

It had been unearthed by greedy grave robbers who removed its restraints, allowing it to wreak havoc. It took immense effort to recapture it.

Tomb inscriptions revealed it had been buried since the early Northern Song Dynasty—nearly nine hundred years.

Running through all I knew about Silver Armored Corpses, I deduced one thing:

A Silver Stiff could defeat a Silver Armored Corpse. But where would we find one now? And even if we did, who would stop the Silver Stiff afterward?

We were on our own.

“Master Xiao,” Uncle Jianguo called, “got any ass-kicking tricks for this thing?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Seeing security guards move forward, I shouted, “Once it starts breathing, everyone hold yours—or you’ll end up like these dogs!”

If a Bronze Armored Corpse’s breath caused swelling and poisoning, a Silver Armored Corpse’s would be unimaginable.

Huaman Cheng’s face twitched, his clothes soaked with sweat despite his usual composure.

Yet the Silver Armored Corpse remained still, its eyes unreadable.

Why wasn’t it moving?

The Hammer Lord had stopped waving his blade, standing near the door for fresh air—ready to flee its deadly breath.

“Uncle Hua,” I asked, “who’s behind this?”

Huaman Cheng shook his head. “No idea. This is my first time seeing something like this. Even with my wealth, no one would send this as a ‘guest.’”

I said, “They’re not after money or gold.”

Jiese interjected, “Could it be for *that* thing?”