Chapter Nineteen: The King of Corpses

Facing the cataclysmic force of the earth and sky, the three exchanged glances, their faces pale with lingering dread. In the face of nature’s might, individual strength seemed utterly insignificant; the pride Li Yang had felt after subduing the Six-winged Golden Centipede was instantly crushed by the overwhelming power of the world itself.

“Fortunately, we made it out early this time. If we’d triggered the mechanism at the mountain’s base…” Li Yang’s gaze lingered on Partridge Whistle with a meaningful look. “None of us would have survived.”

In the original account, it was Partridge Whistle’s recklessness that triggered the mechanism in the Yuan Tomb, leading to disastrous losses for Chen Yulou and Old Luo—nearly costing them their entire group. Li Yang had once thought Partridge Whistle acted rashly because of the deaths of his fellow disciples, but now he saw that was only part of it; beneath his calm exterior, Partridge Whistle harbored an anxious, restless heart.

It was understandable—over two thousand years of the Moving Mountain Sect’s curse pressed on his soul like a boulder. Facing the constant threat of death, it was already remarkable he hadn’t gone mad.

“Brother Partridge Whistle, you truly were too reckless this time. Had it not been for Brother Li’s resourcefulness, we’d all be dead because of you. I’m starting to doubt whether cooperating with your Moving Mountain Sect is right or wrong,” said Chen Yulou, his usually generous face now shadowed with gloom.

“Chief Chen, don’t blame him. Brother Partridge Whistle merely has worries weighing on his mind. This time we escaped unharmed, so there’s no need for discord,” Li Yang interjected.

“Hmph!” Chen Yulou’s expression softened at Li Yang’s words, but his gaze toward Partridge Whistle remained frosty.

“Friend Partridge Whistle, I’ve heard about your Moving Mountain Sect’s troubles and I understand your feelings. I know something about the location of the Misty Pearl,” Li Yang said solemnly, controlling the Six-winged Centipede as it rested halfway up the mountain.

“What? You truly know where the Misty Pearl is?” Partridge Whistle, usually composed, became visibly agitated, gripping Li Yang’s arm. “Tell me where it is, and my sect will serve you for generations!”

“No need to get excited. I do know where it is, but even I wouldn’t dare venture there lightly. This must be planned carefully,” Li Yang replied.

Since meeting Chen Yulou’s group, Li Yang had set his sights on the King of Yunnan’s tomb. The resources needed to raise exotic beasts were immense, far beyond an individual’s means. Naturally, he did not wish to let the treasures of ancient tombs slip away. Yet, as he was not skilled in tomb-raiding himself, allying with Partridge Whistle and Chen Yulou was the wisest course. Still, he had no intention of approaching the King’s tomb just yet—its dangers far surpassed those of the Bottle Mountain, especially the great serpent within, which even Li Yang dared not confront head-on. For now, revealing his knowledge was simply to calm Partridge Whistle.

“Rest assured, I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I hadn’t already considered it carefully. My family’s records speak of the Misty Pearl’s location and describe dangers a hundredfold greater than those here. Let’s discuss it in detail once we descend the mountain,” Li Yang said to soothe Partridge Whistle’s excitement.

“Misty Pearl… Is that the legendary Phoenix Gall?” Chen Yulou’s interest was instantly piqued.

“Exactly. The Misty Pearl, also called the Phoenix Gall, is the only thing in heaven and earth that can lift the Moving Mountain Sect’s generational curse,” Li Yang explained quietly.

“I see…” Chen Yulou’s expression softened as he glanced at Partridge Whistle.

Meanwhile, the tremors of Bottle Mountain had ceased, and the swirling dust was settling.

“Chief! Chief Chen! Brother Li! Senior Brother!” distant shouts echoed up the slope.

“That’s Old Luo and the others!” The three exchanged looks, leapt down the mountainside, and sprinted toward the voices, moving as swiftly as wild horses; the scattered stones were nothing to them.

“Chief, my chief! Damn, you’re alive! You nearly scared Old Luo to death…” Old Luo ran over, visibly shaken, while the rest of the group followed, clearly relieved to see Li Yang’s party unharmed.

“We’re fine,” Partridge Whistle replied, a rare smile on his face as his junior brothers and sisters crowded around in concern.

“I told you, with Brother Li around, they’d be all right!” Now that all three were safe, laughter and chatter broke out among the group.

“Good heavens, what happened just now? The whole mountain felt like it was collapsing! Did you find the Yuan Tomb?”

“We found it, but who knows how many treasures or artifacts remain after that quake,” Li Yang replied with a smile.

“That earthquake must have ruined a fortune in treasures!” Old Luo clutched his head in mock agony, drawing laughter from everyone.

“No sense fretting—there’ll still be plenty left. Don’t worry, Luo Shuai, we’ll all have meat to eat soon enough,” Chen Yulou laughed, clapping Old Luo on the shoulder as he led the group toward the tomb.

In the distance, they spotted coffins exposed on the hillside. At once, the group rushed forward as if spurred by adrenaline.

“Don’t touch anything yet! That coffin’s not right,” Li Yang warned as the others surged forward.

“What’s wrong? It’s broad daylight—what could be off about it?” Though puzzled, no one dared ignore Li Yang; his abilities had been proven time and again.

“There’s something unclean inside that coffin,” Li Yang said gravely, his eyes fixed on the hilltop.

In the original story, the Corpse King of Western Hunan wasn’t particularly powerful, but its venom was a menace. Fortunately, it was broad daylight—the power of the sun kept it from rising.

With that thought, Li Yang strode forward, grasped the coffin, and dragged it down the slope to prevent it from tumbling into the tomb below as it had in the original tale.

He braced himself and tried to lift the lid, but the coffin wouldn’t budge.

“Hmph, trying to play tricks?” Li Yang sneered. Though he had never practiced supernatural arts, his body was robust and his strength tremendous—yet he could not lift the lid. Clearly, the Corpse King was using corpse energy to hold it fast.

With a flick of his sleeve, the Angry Sunshine Chicken leapt out, sensing the corpse energy within and itching for a taste.

The Angry Sunshine Chicken was a creature of pure yang, but its diet was the opposite—feasting on ghosts and evil energies, which were its favorite tonic.

With Li Yang’s nod, the chicken crowed loudly and inhaled toward the coffin. The entire coffin began to shudder as a visible gray vapor poured forth, which the chicken devoured greedily.

In the span of a cup of tea, the coffin stopped trembling; the corpse energy was gone. The chicken belched contentedly, wobbled as if drunk, and then collapsed into a deep sleep. Wisps of gray lingered on its crest, which was turning visibly red.

Seeing this, Li Yang was overjoyed. Ever since subduing the Six-winged Centipede, the Angry Sunshine Chicken had been a worry—its crest, the mark of its bloodline, had faded after burning its own essence. Even with the centipede’s inner pill, the recovery had been meager—a drop in the ocean.

But now, after absorbing the Corpse King’s energy, there were signs of true recovery. This gave Li Yang hope at last for the Angry Sunshine Chicken’s restoration.