Chapter 155: Preventing the Corpse Transformation

I still had time to stop Yun Chaohai, but the five copper coins pressed against my chest were already taken away.

Master Yuantong lay on the bed, unable to resist turning over and sitting up. “Hold your breath,” I said hastily, not having time to explain further, and quickly held my own breath.

Seeing Master Yuantong sit up, Yun Chaohai instinctively trusted my words and also held his breath. Some careless little rascal must have accidentally let the door, which had been open, creak shut and lock itself.

Master Yuantong lifted his bleeding hand and sucked on it. Then, his nose twitched twice. Having endured the hardships of Buddhist practice, his body was already emaciated, and now, as he stood up from the bed, he looked more like a legendary zombie—specifically, the slim, bald-headed kind.

Of course, I had neither a jade ruler nor any corpse-suppressing talismans on me. Master Yuantong sat up from the bed, took two hopping steps, his bones creaking. I had expected him to leap seven or eight meters, but he only managed about twenty centimeters, clearly exhausted—likely due to the blood loss. Without fuel, even a car won’t run.

I wasn’t sure if Yuantong could detect movement, so I stood frozen in place, not daring to move a muscle. Yun Chaohai covered his mouth and nose with both hands. Everyone in the busy meditation room held their breath, and the entire room fell eerily silent. I was at a disadvantage—I had suffered from tuberculosis before, so holding my breath now was pure torture. But what choice did I have?

Then, some clueless youngster, thinking himself clever, reached out and turned off the lights.

The room plunged into darkness.

Did he really think that would hide him?

I wanted to die right then and there—I was stuck with a bunch of useless teammates. Why turn off the lights?!

I had planned to wait for Yuantong to hop past, then rush to the door and escape. But now, in the pitch black, I couldn’t even see the way.

I squinted, listening to the sound of Master Yuantong’s slow, small hops. I felt like I’d been holding my breath forever and couldn’t take it anymore—I needed to breathe.

Then, someone suddenly moved to open the door and run. With no choice, I rushed forward too, but by the time I reached the door, a group of police officers had already crowded the exit. Everyone gasped for air, exhaling desperately.

A pair of cold hands reached for my neck.

Fingernails pressed against my skin. Master Yuantong had fixated on me. Helpless, I turned and struck his head.

He didn’t budge, stubbornly resisting my hands—which, mind you, were still handcuffed.

Yuantong’s head remained stiff. I realized I’d been stupid—he was just feeling around. If I hadn’t breathed, he wouldn’t have gone for my blood. But now, by turning and striking him, I exhaled the breath I’d been holding.

In the darkness, I sensed Yuantong lunging to bite me.

Instinctively, I dodged and ran to the side. Yuantong actually chased me, leaving bloody footprints on the ground.

“Use your phone’s flashlight,” Yun Chaohai said sternly.

The locked door finally opened. Several officers scrambled out, leaving a trail of footprints—and me, a mere civilian, facing a monk on the verge of becoming a zombie.

“Hold him off—I’ll get help,” Yun Chaohai shouted, glancing at the scene inside before bolting.

Now, light from the door illuminated Yuantong. His eyes were fixed, his hops small but rapid, his nose constantly sniffing.

He must still be in the growth phase—not yet an invincible zombie.

I climbed onto a table, held my breath, and stared at him wide-eyed. Yuantong indeed stopped, sniffing around angrily. Moments ago, there had been plenty of blood moving about—why was there nothing now?

He kept hopping in place, refusing to leave.

Out of options, I exhaled slightly—and Yuantong immediately turned toward me. With a loud crash, the table shattered beneath his lunge.

“This is sacred ground—how dare you act so wildly!” roared the long-browed monk. His robes fluttered as he flung a Buddhist prayer bead, striking Yuantong squarely on the back of the head. Yuantong turned, catching the monk’s scent, and eagerly hopped toward him.

The monk chanted demon-subduing mantras, but Yuantong only drew closer, utterly unfazed.

The monk muttered, “Why isn’t this working on a half-formed zombie?”

I yelled, “He was originally a monk! Buddhist exorcism techniques won’t work on him. Regular zombies are easy, but a zombie monk? That’s trouble.”

“Nonsense!” the monk snapped, gripping his Vajra pestle. As Yuantong lunged, he struck hard, sending Yuantong flying—sparks flying on impact.

Yuantong crashed into the wall but got up again, light as a feather and hopping even farther. He was evolving mid-fight—impressive, really.

Seeing Yuantong stand after such a blow, the long-browed monk’s face betrayed fear.

“Let me handle this—I’ll pin his legs. You suck out the breath trapped in his throat, then seal his nose with a bandage,” I shouted.

The monk hesitated, then nodded. “Fine.”

I taunted Yuantong, “Didn’t you say I killed you? Bald donkey, I’ve had enough of you! We’ve got no grudge—why frame me?” I gasped for effect.

Yuantong lunged without hesitation.

I’d learned a few combat moves, including one to take someone down. As Yuantong leaped, I ducked, twisted my cuffed hands around his neck, and ended up behind him. Planting a foot behind his knee, I forced him down.

Desperation triples strength—it’s said that in life-or-death moments, even a weak scholar can topple an elephant, driven by sheer survival instinct.

I pinned Yuantong, choking him.

“Master, hurry! Suck out the breath in his throat!” I strained, my face red. The monk grimaced. “You must never speak of this—my reputation is at stake! With all this talk of men liking men nowadays, I can’t afford misunderstandings.”

I nodded. “Understood. This stays between us.”

Hesitating, the monk knelt, gripping Yuantong’s wrists. “My first kiss… gone just like that.”

He sealed his lips over Yuantong’s and inhaled deeply, drawing out the trapped breath.

“Elder Uncle-Master… what are you doing?” Jiese stood dumbfounded at the door, witnessing two men restraining a third while one kissed the restrained. His worldview shattered on the spot.

He spat repeatedly in disgust.

“N-nothing! We’re subduing a zombie!” the monk stammered, flustered. “What you saw must never leave this room!”

Yuantong’s strength waned. We sealed his mouth with a bandage, and for good measure, I stuffed cooked glutinous rice into his nose and mouth.

The monk pulled Jiese aside, warning, “Not a word about what happened, or I’ll add ten more strikes to your punishment.”

Jiese nodded. “Understood, Elder Uncle-Master. I won’t breathe a word about you kissing Yuantong—er, I mean, Yuantong Master.”

The monk sighed. “It’s Yuantong, not Shentong. How can a monk be this dense?”

Yun Chaohai, who’d been hiding far away, returned only after hearing the “high monk” had subdued the threat.

A young officer eyed me warily. “You can come back now to give your statement.” Yun Chaohai snapped, “Idiot, scram! Master, could you explain what just happened?”

I lowered my voice. “You might not believe me, but he was bitten by a zombie. Someone placed Five Emperor coins on his chest and drained his blood to delay the transformation.”

Yun Chaohai grinned like a chrysanthemum. “Here, Master, have a smoke.” He lit my cigarette and removed my handcuffs.

Finally free of suspicion, I took a leisurely drag.

“Sir, he’s a suspect!” the handsome young officer protested. “The victim screamed his name before dying!”

Yun Chaohai barked, “Go find more clues instead of yapping!”

Turning to the monk, he said gravely, “Abbot, with the recent bizarre incidents and online rumors harming the temple’s reputation, we’re under immense pressure. Could you monitor the monks’ online posts?” His eyes were dark with exhaustion, nearly tearful.

The monk thundered, “Outrageous! Jiese, summon your uncles—I must address this!” Jiese scurried off.

I suggested to Yun Chaohai, “Just say the temple’s hosting a film shoot—‘My Date with a Zombie Lord.’ People will dismiss the scenes as special effects.”

“Brilliant! Movies thrive on gimmicks. Shift the focus, and my burden lightens. Let’s say it’s a romance between a girl and a zombie lord.” Yun Chaohai had a knack for storytelling.

I added, “And later, she’s wounded by monks trying to save him.”

The monk bristled. “We monks aren’t villains! The zombie lord lost control, and the monks rescued the girl. One monk sacrificed himself, achieving enlightenment. The girl, realizing the truth, killed the zombie lord—only to die herself. Moved by the monk’s mercy, the zombie lord renounced the world. Thirty years later, the girl’s daughter returns for revenge.”

Damn, this monk missed his calling as a screenwriter. His tale had everything—drama, romance, generational vendettas, zombies in love, and vengeance.

“Sir, come see this—it’s interesting,” the young officer called, having uncovered new clues.