Chapter 146: Strange Person

The jar had darkened over the years due to oxidation on the outside. Only after Hua Chongyang mentioned it did I realize it was made of silver.

“Your jar is more valuable,” I said, feeling an involuntary shiver run through me. There was something eerie about Hua Chongyang.

It wasn’t until he stepped closer that I got a better look at his face.

His facial muscles were dry and dark, tightly drawn, his eyes deeply sunken. His eyebrows and beard had completely fallen out, leaving his face unnaturally bare—giving off a deeply unsettling vibe.

His hands, gripping the copper jar, were just as gaunt, yet they exuded an undercurrent of restrained strength. I studied him for over ten minutes and still couldn’t figure out what kind of monster he was.

If he were a Silver Jiangshi (silver zombie), then how could a zombie possibly enjoy hotpot with dog meat?

Besides, a Silver Jiangshi takes at least a thousand years to form naturally, surpassing even Bronze Armor Corpses and Earth-Nurtured Corpses—it’s practically the king of all zombies.

Hua Chongyang was barely a hundred years old.

These days, news often features centenarians, with longevity records constantly being broken. Maybe he was just an exceptionally long-lived man.

But if he *was* human, something still felt off. First, humans need to breathe. Second, even the most vicious people emit a unique human aura. People naturally adjust to each other’s energy fields, but if something inhuman—like a snake—stands nearby, they’d feel uneasy. Even the dullest person would sense discomfort if a ghost were present, because a ghost’s aura disrupts the human one.

There’s a story about a company working late on the thirteenth floor. Around 2 a.m., a supervisor quietly said, “You’ve all worked hard tonight. Go home and rest.” Everyone took the elevator down, but something felt off—the supervisor seemed unnaturally cold. They avoided him, keeping their distance. When the elevator reached the first floor, a colleague’s phone suddenly blared with incessant dog barks. As they stepped out, the supervisor was gone. The next day, they found out he had already committed suicide in the office.

They realized the supervisor in the elevator had been a ghost.

Hua Chongyang gave me the same feeling—not a zombie, but not quite human either. When he spoke, there was no breath. His presence was just… wrong.

As he stepped closer, I instinctively backed away, my jade corpse trembling beside me.

Hua Chongyang took another step forward. “Where is your jar? Tell me.”

My vision darkened. All I could see were his sunken eyes as my mouth seemed to move on its own: “M-my copper jar… was stolen by the Guo family from Hedong. It’s not with me. I heard it contains… someone’s tears.”

My knees weakened, nearly giving out.

Uncle Jianguo leapt from his chair, hooking his foot under me to keep me upright, then slapped me across the face. “Master Xiao! Shut your damn mouth!”

My vision cleared again, sweat drenching my forehead and back. I had almost kneeled before Hua Chongyang.

I quickly averted my gaze, furious. “Lord Hua, what a fine trick. I helped drive away the Silver Armor Corpse for your family, and this is how you repay me?”

Uncle Jianguo scoffed. “I’ve had enough. Pack your things—we’re leaving early. We need to find Miss Xie.”

Jiese panicked. “Xiao Qi, Uncle Jianguo! Don’t go! My great-grandfather was just testing you. My father still needs your help to remove the worms inside him!”

Hua Chongyang toyed with the silver jar. “Kneeling before a lord is an honor. Many lowborn never even see one in their lifetime. Don’t be ungrateful—must I force respect from you?”

I glanced around. Hammer Lord had already hefted his Green Dragon Crescent Blade, swinging it ominously—clearly, we weren’t getting out easily.

Technically, Hua Chongyang was Jiese’s great-grandfather. By generational rank, Jiese and I were peers. Bowing to a centenarian wouldn’t be unreasonable.

But the way Hua Chongyang spoke—

I grew angrier. Did the Hua family see everyone as beneath them? “Lord Hua, this is the People’s Republic. Even the last emperor had to reform under the people’s rule. Drop your imperial delusions. I won’t bow to you—not even if you all gang up and beat me down.”

Truth was, I was exhausted. I’d used dozens of Six Ding Six Jia talismans and insect techniques. If it came to a fight, I wasn’t sure I could still control the Three Corpses Worms inside everyone.

And Hua Chongyang? He was dangerous. Just meeting his gaze had almost shattered my mind. That silver jar at his waist? A terrible mistake to mention the copper one.

If the copper jar was as valuable as the silver one, Hua Chongyang wouldn’t hesitate to add it to his collection. He probably thought I was lying about the Guo family stealing it.

If he decided to keep me here and subject me to Qing-era torture—like plucking ribs like a pipa or gutting me alive—who the hell could endure that?

Uncle Jianguo cracked his neck. As the second-place winner in the military’s combat tournament, he could handle regular security, even those boasting CIA or mercenary backgrounds.

“Xiao Qi, remind me—you hired me. Let’s discuss my pay,” he joked.

“Five bucks.”

Jiese, caught off guard by the turn of events, tried to intervene, but Hua Manyu yanked him back.

“Great-grandfather! Xiao Qi! Stop fighting! Sit down and talk! Feuds should be resolved, not escalated!”

Hua Chongyang scowled. “Are you even a Hua? Defending outsiders? Useless disgrace. Quit being a monk—come home tomorrow and train properly!”

Then he turned to me. “Xiao Qi, was it? Today, I’m not just keeping you here—I’m slaughtering your dog for hotpot.”

“Sorry. Only *I* get to call him ‘little rascal’ or ‘mutt.’ Not you—not even if you’re a thousand years old or some goddamn emperor. Apologize to him. *Now.*”

With what little strength I had left, I braced for the fallout. If we were breaking ties, might as well make it clean.

Hua Chongyang’s eye twitched. He pointed at the still-dazed Little Rascal. “Preposterous! A Qing noble in the Yellow Riding Jacket, apologizing to a *dog*? Unheard of in two hundred years of our dynasty—unthinkable in my millennium of life!”

He set the silver jar down. Something beneath his skin writhed—muscles shifting. His right hand, once dry and dark, now swelled grotesquely.

*What kind of monster was he?*

Not human. Not a zombie.

Hammer Lord shouted, “No need for you to act, Old Master! I’ll handle him!”

The old man was spry, his massive blade whistling through the air—sharp enough to split hairs. Of course, he wouldn’t use the edge, just the flat side.

Uncle Jianguo and I dodged the sweeping strike. “Fighting with a guandao? Think you’re Guan Yu?” he mocked.

The blade slammed into my chest, knocking me back two steps. Uncle Jianguo retaliated, punching Hammer Lord’s ribs. The old man blocked with the hilt but still staggered.

“Old man, quit playing with big knives. If I hadn’t held back, you’d be on the ground.”

Hammer Lord hadn’t expected such force. I’d picked up a few moves from Brother Xiang, but right now, spectating was wiser.

Hua Chongyang’s cold stare pinned me in place. Was this ancient freak planning to kill me? Even the jade corpse was too terrified to intervene.

Meanwhile, the ex-CIA operative among the guards—hiding earlier from the Silver Armor Corpse—saw a chance to redeem himself.

“I’ll… handle this. Son of a bitch.”

Uncle Jianguo kicked Hammer Lord aside. “Master Xiao, what’d he say?”

“He called you a motherf—”

Uncle Jianguo roared. “Foreigner! Let’s dance!”

The old operative had served in Afghanistan and Syria—firearms, combat, all mastered. He eyed Uncle Jianguo and smirked. “Too scrawny.”

No words wasted. A punch. A dodge. A second strike.

The operative hit the floor before he could react.

Hua Chongyang chuckled. “Interesting. Quite the flavor.”

I shuddered. What did *that* mean?

Uncle Jianguo was soon surrounded by eight men. Within minutes, four were down, but he took hits to the chest and ribs.

“Enough!” I couldn’t hold back. Chanting, I collapsed.

The remaining guards clutched their stomachs, howling.

Hua Chongyang’s face darkened. “So you’re from the Guo family. Lying to *me*?”

His grotesque hand shot out, seizing my throat. “Why did you get close to my great-grandson?”

A little pressure, and I’d suffocate. My jade ruler clattered to the floor.

A pale-faced guard, pants wet with urine, stumbled over clutching a peachwood figurine.

“Little Hua… Long time no see,” the figurine—Mo Bai—said.