Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Zombie Black Serpent and Total Decapitation (First Update) Please vote and add to favorites

Staring at the black serpent's corpse sprawled on the ground—a body roughly the same size and build as his own—Liang Jing found it hard to believe. Was it really over just like that? He felt a deep uncertainty, but the enemy seemed truly finished; the string of mental assaults had elicited no response at all. And those psychic attacks were, after all, the most excruciating agony one could endure.

There was a reason, in fact, why Liang Jing had so easily shattered the black serpent’s soul. On one hand, though the black serpent had awakened his abilities, it had only been a matter of days; his psychic strength was scarcely above that of an ordinary man. More crucially, he had just lost all reason to rage, his mind consumed, leaving his spirit battered and at its feeblest. When Liang Jing’s mental blade struck, the black serpent was utterly unguarded. Lastly, Liang Jing himself was a prodigy—perhaps even a monster. In worlds focused on cultivation, training the mind was notoriously difficult, but thanks to the nurturing of his own monstrous life force, Liang Jing’s willpower had grown to ten times that of a typical person. With the addition of the “Fierce Ghost Mask,” his mental points soared to twenty—twentyfold the average. With all these factors compounded, it was only natural that the black serpent was so easily vanquished.

Liang Jing hadn’t expected things to go so smoothly, or that his enemy would be so fragile and defenseless. But was this not death? Was the black serpent brain-dead, a vegetable? He was somewhat confused but had no desire to touch the corpse—best not to risk it with something so poisonous. The man’s soul was surely shattered, and yet Liang Jing hadn’t gained any of his life essence.

This was the first time such a situation had arisen. It reminded him of how killing monsters with firearms yielded no life essence, but this felt entirely different. Liang Jing puzzled over it for a long time but found no answers. The black serpent’s mutation was already bizarre enough. Could unbridled rage truly trigger such an outburst of power? That was the sort of miracle reserved for protagonists, and the black serpent hardly looked the part. But Liang Jing was not one to get caught up in fruitless speculation. If an answer was meant to come, it would reveal itself in time.

“Keep an eye on them. Don’t let anything happen!” Liang Jing instructed Wang Meng, the four Rats, and the others, telling them to guard the more than twenty black serpent underlings who had been scared out of their wits. After drinking diluted life potion, the Rats had recovered considerably; with a few days’ rest, they would be as good as new. Having eaten some food Liang Jing provided, they were ready to fight again. Now that they knew Liang Jing was Jin’s good brother, they obeyed his orders without hesitation—gratitude for saving their lives was reason enough.

Though Liang Jing had many questions as he gazed at the mutated corpse of the awakened one, he did not let them distract him from his intention: to use “Corpse Enslavement” to turn the corpse into a zombie under his command. But he wasn’t sure if this truly counted as a corpse now, or if the skill would even work.

Corpse Enslavement: Revives a corpse to fight for you, enhancing its life and defense, and gives it a certain aggro effect.

The target for Corpse Enslavement was a corpse, and there were no requirements for proficiency or level—the skill was at its maximum from the moment it was learned. Liang Jing glanced at the nearly-crippled mutant blackback hound. Now that his mental points reached twenty with the Fierce Ghost Mask, could he enslave a second zombie? He had previously experimented—without the mask, he couldn’t control two zombies at once. The blackback hound, though it hadn’t followed him for long, had done much for him; Liang Jing couldn’t bear to destroy it himself. Perhaps one day it would die in battle, the fate of all warriors. He didn’t know if he could enslave another zombie now, nor whether the black serpent counted as a corpse. But all uncertainties could be resolved through practice.

At worst, if the black serpent was little more than a vegetable, Liang Jing could always finish him off later.

He made no secret of his intentions. Standing tall, Liang Jing began to use Corpse Enslavement, muttering incantations and moving his limbs in strange gestures like a shaman at a rural exorcism. Instantly, the air grew cold, filled with eerie wails and howls. Then…

After a moment’s tense silence, under the haunted gazes of those around him, before the sun had even risen, everything proceeded smoothly. Liang Jing only needed to use Corpse Enslavement once to successfully transform and summon the black serpent’s corpse. He had successfully enslaved the “Black Serpent”—his second zombie. And so, the answer was clear: every ten points of mental strength allowed him to control another zombie.

Liang Jing was delighted. The black serpent’s body, once entirely green, had darkened to a dusky blue-green, no longer so conspicuous. Dressed in clothing, he could pass for a human unless closely scrutinized. As a zombie, the black serpent was even more formidable than before. Strength alone put Liang Jing at a clear disadvantage, and the creature’s natural armor was thicker than ever, though not as dramatically as the mutant blackback hound’s. Still, Liang Jing was satisfied; ordinary firearms wouldn’t breach that toughened hide, and the claws on its hands and feet were now even darker and more lethal.

Yet Liang Jing harbored one lingering doubt. Since Corpse Enslavement had worked, the black serpent must truly be dead. So why had he not gained any life essence? In truth, when the black serpent’s rage reached its peak, his blood energy and the runic body formed by his awakening had utterly exploded and fused with his flesh, triggering a series of mystical changes. In one sense, the black serpent was no longer a simple living being, but something akin to a runic construct—a semi-runic entity. Thus, even though Liang Jing killed him, there was no life essence to claim.

Watching the twin orange-red suns rise over the horizon, Liang Jing’s mood soared. He had gained a formidable zombie enforcer, reunited with a long-lost brother—though not without some twists and turns, the outcome was good. He himself was about to awaken, and after years of suppression, he had finally struck a blow against the Zhang family, granting his heavy heart some measure of release. There was no time to waste.

“Take away their weapons, bind them with rags and strips of clothing, and then we’ll decide how to deal with them,” Liang Jing ordered, unmoved by the black serpent’s underlings, who now dared only beg for mercy and offer no resistance.

He watched as the Rats and Wang Meng methodically disarmed and bound the trembling men. Ever since witnessing Liang Jing execute someone with a steel ball to the head, the others had been scared stiff. Liang Jing felt little resentment, but when some had tried to flee—only Wang Meng had acted decisively—while the rest hesitated. Had Liang Jing not reacted quickly and killed to establish authority, chaos would have erupted. He resolved to let these black serpent thugs serve as a bloody lesson, lest more trouble arise in the future.

Under the watchful eyes of the man they now called the Demon Butcher, disarming and binding the captives was swift and easy. Not a one dared resist; anyone who tried would be executed on the spot.

With their hands tied behind their backs, kneeling on the ground, the black serpent’s underlings awaited their fate. Liang Jing’s gaze flashed with bloodlust. From the moment he saw them, cowed by his presence, turn on the black serpent with such viciousness—regardless of past grievances, whether minor or deep—he could not forgive them. All the more so, as they had insulted him, and served as the Zhang family’s lackeys.

“Kill them. Wang Meng, you lead the way—behead them all!” Liang Jing commanded coldly, paying no mind to the howls, pleas, and sobbing of the doomed men.

Under Liang Jing’s grim stare, with Wang Meng taking the lead and armed with the short knives Liang Jing provided, Zhang Hu, Ke Ling, and the others, pale and trembling, committed their first killings. With over twenty black serpent underlings divided among them, each had several to dispatch.

Liang Jing ignored the retching, pale faces, and muttering of his companions. At last, they had tasted blood.