Chapter 85: The Disgraced Zhang Xun

“What’s wrong?”

“Xunfeng is gone.” Only then did the two realize that Xunfeng, frightened by the flying corpse, hadn’t followed them. Instead, while they were busy stealing the corpse at the mass grave and escaping, neither noticed Xunfeng’s absence.

Xunfeng was Zhou Yi’s cherished companion. Now that he was missing, Zhou Yi began to panic. But given the current situation, searching for Xunfeng was out of the question. Scratching his head, Zhou Yi pondered for a moment before speaking.

“Let’s not worry about him for now. He’s fast; he’ll be fine. Let’s figure out this flying corpse first.”

With that, Zhou Yi swung his fire-forged blade, chopped down a poplar tree, and pressed it onto the flying corpse. Baozi gripped the corpse’s legs tightly. Once the corpse was pinned, Zhou Yi began to untie the ropes.

He undid only the upper half, then drew his fiery blade and struck at the corpse’s left arm. After several blows, the force of the rebound left Zhou Yi’s arm numb, yet the corpse remained unscathed.

“Brother Yi, if you can’t chop it, try sawing,” Baozi suggested from behind.

Zhou Yi shook his head; the two of them were completely at a loss against this corpse. It was clearly connected to Lei Zhen, yet they could discover nothing more, nor glean any secrets. Just as they were at their wits’ end, the messenger talisman left by Mu Chen began to grow warm. Zhou Yi took it from his pocket—the yellow talisman was heating up.

“There’s trouble at Mount Mao. We need to go help Mu Chen,” Zhou Yi said, the yellow talisman already self-combusting in his hand. He tossed the ashes aside, his brow furrowing deeper.

“Let’s find a place to hide the corpse and head to Mount Mao,” Baozi replied.

Not far ahead was a cave. Zhou Yi and Baozi bound the flying corpse tightly once more, then, after much effort, moved a boulder to block the entrance. Only then did they feel safe enough to descend the mountain.

Without pause, they hurried back to the mass grave to find Xunfeng before setting out for Mount Mao.

In truth, their worries were unfounded. At that moment, Xunfeng was in the mass grave, gnawing on a wild pheasant. When Zhou Yi returned, he put his fingers to his lips and whistled. Xunfeng dropped the pheasant and ran to Zhou Yi, affectionately rubbing against his leg.

“Let’s go, to Mount Mao.” The journey this time was even longer. Such a distance made flying with spiritual energy impractical.

Bei Qiao disliked taking carriages, and Zhou Yi wasn’t sure if Xunfeng would get motion sickness. When they reached Shenyang, they bought a flatbed cart.

It was an open, flatbed wagon—two horses and a cart for just five silver dollars. As soon as they left Shenyang, Xunfeng jumped off and ran after the cart.

Zhou Yi was helpless. Since Xunfeng disliked riding, the horse-drawn cart would be too slow. They abandoned the cart by the roadside, and each took a horse, pressing onward at a gallop with Baozi.

Not knowing the exact trouble at Mount Mao, they dared not delay, traveling day and night. By the next day, they reached Tianjin, where Zhou Yi’s red horse neighed once, then collapsed, dead from exhaustion.

The journey ahead was still a thousand miles. If they traveled by air, they’d need to rest often, so they went into Tianjin to buy more horses. Yet after searching everywhere, they found no horse market—instead, they spotted Zhang Xun.

Zhang Xun was a shadow of his former self. His queue had been cut off, gray hair hanging loose over his shoulders. A soldier was driving a car, and Zhang Xun sat in the passenger seat.

Upon seeing Zhang Xun, Zhou Yi gave a cold, sinister smile, flashed forward, and blocked the car. “Old dog Zhang Xun, never thought you’d see a day like this. Running into me today is your misfortune.”

Zhang Xun trembled like a leaf when he saw Zhou Yi, nervously opened the door, and stepped out, saying, “It was greed that clouded my judgment in the past. I should never have broken my word. If you want my life, take it now.” With that, he closed his eyes, putting on a show of sincere repentance.

Faced with this scene, Zhou Yi felt a pang of pity. Such an old man, even if spared, could not have many days left. But if he didn’t kill Zhang Xun, the car nonetheless caught Zhou Yi’s eye.

“I’m in a good mood today. I’ll let you go. Now get lost,” Zhou Yi said coldly.

Relieved, Zhang Xun thanked Zhou Yi repeatedly and turned to get back in the car.

Zhou Yi grabbed Zhang Xun by the shoulder and pulled him back. “Nice car you have. I’ll be taking it.”

Zhang Xun was reluctant but dared not protest. As he left, he looked back at every step, his longing expression nearly convincing Zhou Yi to return the car.

Once they had the car, the two fiddled with it for a while, but neither knew how to drive. They scratched their heads in frustration.

“Go find that soldier who was driving,” Zhou Yi said, frowning at the three pedals underfoot.

Baozi grinned and jumped out. Soon he returned, dragging the driver by the collar. Zhou Yi turned and couldn’t help twitching at the sight.

“I told you to invite him, not treat him like this. Apologize to the man,” Zhou Yi said. Baozi glared at him—clearly not planning to take the blame.

Ignoring Zhou Yi, Baozi ran into a restaurant to buy food.

Zhou Yi didn’t mind, and he smiled apologetically at the driver. “My brother is a bit rough around the edges, don’t take offense. We just need you to teach us how to drive. We haven’t a clue how this thing works,” Zhou Yi said with a grin.

Hearing that he was only needed as an instructor, the driver’s fear vanished and was replaced by arrogance. “So that’s it? Did you see your brother’s attitude? Is that how you invite someone?”

Zhou Yi kept smiling and nodding; when asking for help, one should be courteous.

The driver, emboldened by Zhou Yi’s civility, grew even more dismissive, pointing out parts of the car and introducing them. But he only named the components without explaining their functions. After a long while, Zhou Yi understood only that the steering wheel was for turning.

Baozi came out of the restaurant and saw the driver still chattering on. Marching over, he delivered a swift kick. “Enough, you don’t need to teach us. Just drive.”

Baozi, already intimidating with his bald head and lack of eyebrows, looked even more frightening when he scowled. The driver immediately wilted.

Zhou Yi yielded the driver’s seat, letting the man take the wheel. The car had shock absorbers and was far more comfortable than a carriage. Xunfeng climbed into the back and nestled into Baozi’s lap.

They continued on their way to Mount Mao.

“How far to Mount Mao?” Zhou Yi asked the driver, assuming he would know after serving Zhang Xun for years.

“At this speed, we should arrive by nightfall tomorrow,” the driver answered quietly, fearing to provoke Baozi in the back seat.

“Faster,” Baozi’s voice came from behind. Mu Chen had sent his call for help yesterday; at this pace, it would take three days to reach Mount Mao—they didn’t know if they’d make it in time.

“We can’t go any faster. This is already the fastest,” the driver replied, his face full of misery—he did not seem to be lying.

“Enough talk. Any more nonsense and I’ll clobber you,” Baozi threatened, referring to his mace as a “club,” a habit Zhou Yi no longer bothered to correct.

No sooner had Baozi spoken than the driver jumped out and fled.

...

To be honest, updating with just 4,000 words a day feels too little, but there’s nothing I can do—my hands are slow, and I type at a snail’s pace. Seeing how hard Ba Ma works, please send some flowers and favorites my way. Ba Ma bows in gratitude to the gracious Lord above.