Chapter Twenty-Two: Pray for Your Own Fortune

Fatty turned his head, face drained of all color, cursed under his breath, and took off running at full speed.

I had barely taken two steps myself before glancing back and noticing that the small creature with the yellow-white fur also looked terrified, bounding after us. Though agile, it wasn’t fast, and it seemed utterly panicked. I don’t know what got into me—maybe I thought drowning was too easy a death for it. I shrugged off my jacket, wrapped it around the little thing, and dashed toward the village.

There was no time to head for the hills. We ran straight for the Jinbei van, grabbed two life jackets, and hurriedly put them on.

Just as we finished strapping on the jackets, the water had already risen to our knees.

“The flood’s here! Quick, cut your palm and use your blood to drive away those damned ghosts!”

Fatty shook his head helplessly. “No good. My blood only works once a day, and I already used it on the Celestial Armor earlier. Kid, you’re on your own now. Those corpse-dowsers hunt by breathing—hold your breath as long as you can. There must be a whole regiment’s worth down there; we’ll each have to fend for ourselves!”

I could have killed him right then and there.

Our third uncle had already warned us the flood was coming, but this damn fatty insisted on digging up treasure under the old scholar tree. Not only did he fail to find it, but he managed to lure all the corpse-dowsers from the riverbed. And now, the bastard tells me to fend for myself—how the hell am I supposed to deal with those things?!

Anger gave way to a chilling calm. “It’s not my death I care about, but to have the mighty Right Protector of Marshal Wang Lingguan die at the hands of corpse-dowsers—what a disgrace!”

Fatty glanced at me with a strange expression. “There are a lot of them, but I might not die.”

“Why not?” I asked.

He grinned slyly, tightening his lifejacket. “Because I can run faster than you!”

I lost it and lunged to tear off his lifejacket.

A massive wave crashed over us, knocking us to the ground. We scrambled to our feet and raced toward the ancestral hall, the tallest building in the village. We had just reached the second-floor loft when the entire village became a vast expanse of water. Who knew if the villagers had made it to higher ground.

We huddled in the loft, watching as the water rose ever higher below.

Fatty rummaged through his pockets for a while before pulling out a single talisman. He cursed. “Damn! The rest are still in the van. We’re dead for sure now. Hey, kid... you’re a good swimmer, right? Why not swim back and grab them? Even wet, they’d still work. Ah, never mind... You’d probably be dragged off to marry one of those corpse-dowsers the moment you stepped outside.”

I ignored him and grabbed a wooden stick, poking a hole in the roof—just in case the water kept rising, we wouldn’t suffocate inside.

No sooner had I punched through than a head appeared.

My lifelong nightmare.

Ping’s wife!

She crouched on the roof, flashing me a ghostly smile.

I collapsed onto the loft in terror.

Fatty saw her too, his face changing as he scrambled up a pillar. Ping’s wife ducked her head and vanished.

Suppressing my fear, I followed Fatty onto the roof, but there was no sign of her anywhere. It was as if nothing had happened.

“Was it her?” I asked, my voice shaking.

Fatty snickered, “Your old flame and you can’t even recognize her? She must be missing you!”

I glanced around and was immediately dumbstruck. Corpses, too many to count, were walking upside down along the riverbed, all in perfect unison, streaming toward the ancestral hall. At last, I understood why those things kept coming after us: Ping’s wife had been hiding in the shadows all along, never leaving. Whenever I showed up, she could smell the scent of the suppression poison on me and knew where I was. Naturally, her corpse-dowser friends followed.

“Cut the jokes, Fatty! Think of something!” I shouted.

Fatty frowned, glancing up at the thunderous, pitch-black sky. Suddenly, he asked, “You know Franklin?”

“Of course.”

“What’s his most badass feat?”

“Flying a kite to draw lightning?”

Fatty chuckled. “Right! But that was just child’s play compared to what our ancestors could do.”

I was taken aback. I’d heard of powerful Daoist priests who could summon thunder to strike down demons—one of the highest Daoist arts. Did Fatty really have that power? That’d be incredible!

“But I don’t know how,” he added.

My chest tightened. “Then why bring it up?!”

Fatty screwed up his face and wailed, “If only my master were here—he could do it. Master, where are you? Your disciple is in trouble and misses you so much…”

I ignored his madness, gripping my blade and preparing to jump back into the loft. The rooftop was too exposed—if they climbed up, our chances of survival would plummet. Inside, at least the walls offered some protection; it would take time for the corpse-dowsers to force their way in, and maybe we could hold out a bit longer.

Suddenly, a guttural croaking echoed through the air.

The river surface heaved, and with a splash, a massive animal head emerged.

The golden leopard frog floated in the water, heading straight for the ancestral hall!

Fatty stopped his wailing, his expression shifting rapidly as he pointed at the beast. “Hey, Suppression Poison Kid, if you’ve got the guts to take down that damned bullfrog, we might just make it!”

A tremendous crash interrupted him. The ground shook beneath us, nearly throwing us into the water.

The golden leopard frog had butted its head against a beam, and an entire wall of the ancestral hall collapsed, tiles and debris rushing into the floodwaters. In a flash, the corpse-dowsers poured in through the breach.

Another crash.

A second wall gave way.

The thick beams supporting the roof trembled, ready to collapse at any moment. Once they did, we’d fall right into the horde below. We wouldn’t even last long enough for the golden leopard frog to finish us—there’d be nothing left but bones.

A surge of unprecedented courage and hatred welled up from deep within me.

I gripped my curved blade tightly, fixed my gaze on the golden leopard frog, and said to Fatty, “Cover me. I’m going to kill that beast!”

Fatty said he could hold them off for ten minutes at most. With that, he gripped his last talisman, shouted fiercely, and the paper burned in his hand, a faint purple aura emanating from his body.

I fixed my eyes on the frog’s head, leapt off the roof, and charged with my blade.

The golden leopard frog, seeing me, launched its massive body in a single bound. A deafening crash—the last wall crumbled. My attack missed, but my blade sliced a corpse-dowser clean in two.

The rest of the corpse-dowsers surged at me like mad, but Fatty’s chanting echoed in my ears. The ghostly things struggled forward in slow motion, as if caught in a film’s freeze-frame. I glanced up and saw Fatty standing atop a corpse-dowser’s shoulders, sweat pouring down his brow as his hands flew through Daoist incantations.

The golden leopard frog spun suddenly, letting out an earth-shaking croak, then lunged at me with its gaping mouth.

I dived beneath the water.

All around, the horde of corpse-dowsers and the frog’s massive hind legs filled my vision. Fury boiled up inside me—I thrust upward with my curved blade.

The razor-sharp blade tore a huge chunk of flesh from the frog’s hind leg.

Roaring in pain, the frog kicked out, its foot slamming into my chest. My breath caught, river water choking me. Its head plunged down, eyes blazing with rage, and it slammed into me.

I shot out of the water like a rocket, soaring several meters into the air.

The golden leopard frog burst from the river, jaws wide, ready to swallow me whole as I fell.

In the face of despair, a person’s will to fight can reach unimaginable heights.

That last blow felt like it shattered my organs, but my determination to kill the beast overrode everything. Even if I died, I’d gut it as I went. Twisting midair, I pointed my blade straight down—if it dared to swallow me, it would be ripped open from the inside.

The frog seemed to sense the danger and twisted to dodge.

But I was falling too fast—my blade slammed down, slicing out one of its huge eyes.

As I plunged back into the water, the frog’s frenzied roar filled my ears, and I found myself surrounded by the disgusting, viscous fluid from its ruptured eyeball, so thick I could barely see.

The golden leopard frog dove beneath the surface, rampaging in pain. It struck me again, sending me hurtling sideways.

Gunshots cracked through the chaos—Fatty was firing desperately, but it was all blanks.

Suddenly, a pair of icy, swollen hands clamped around my throat, hauling me out of the water.

I had landed right in the midst of the corpse-dowsers.

The stench of mud was overwhelming. All around me, the corpse-dowsers stared with cold, lifeless faces, hair hanging down in dripping tangles.