Virtue City Funeral House sat in the northern suburbs; further west along the outskirts, someone was directing passing vehicles to the side of the road.
Trucks were checked for overloading, cars for drunk driving.
Mo Zhicheng watched the scene and, following the others, pulled over and rolled down his window.
"Please blow into this."
Mo Zhicheng blew once, then heard the device beep a few times. Then a voice came from the instrument.
"You are driving under the influence."
Mo Zhicheng froze for a moment. Before he could say anything, the other party held the device over again.
"Please blow again."
The second time, the result was still the same.
"I haven't had anything to drink…"
"Please turn off your engine and step out of the vehicle."
Mo Zhicheng adjusted his glasses, glanced at the expressions of the people around, then looked at their positions, and glanced at those further away.
Just a few glances, and Mo Zhicheng sighed to himself; he didn't know exactly what had been exposed, or how much.
Judging from the scene, probably not much was given away yet.
But as an online ride-hailing driver, he knew exactly what came next.
He'd be waiting here for ten or twenty minutes, blowing into the device two more times. If the result stayed the same, he'd be escorted to the hospital for a blood test.
There was no way he could go through that process, especially the blood draw.
He lifted his head, a slight smile appearing on his face.
"Listen, I haven't been drinking. I drive for a ride-hailing app. I've been driving since nightfall. I'm out here trying to make a living. Why would I risk drinking and driving?
And you're all out here checking for drunk drivers in the middle of the night, that's some real dedication. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can get off and rest.
Everything I'm telling you is true."
Mo Zhicheng's words sounded impossibly sincere, falling on the ears of the nearby workers. Unconsciously, a thought crept into each of their minds.
He makes a lot of sense; he must be telling the truth, he didn't drink, and we shouldn't hold him up and waste time. There are tons of cars waiting behind him. The superiors must be out of their minds, doing drunk driving checks at this hour. Anyone who's been drinking is sleeping it off by now.
The one nearest the car put away the device and gave him a formal nod.
"Sorry for the trouble, sir. Please move along, and drive safe."
"Alright, thank you." Mo Zhicheng smiled, thanking them all.
He pressed the gas and drove off, rolling up the window. The smile on his face vanished as soon as the glass sealed him in.
He'd figured out what had gone wrong. He'd been too visible all along—now someone had their eyes on him.
But it didn't matter. He had only come by on his way out to check that things were running according to plan.
And to get a close look at Wen Yan.
Even now, he hadn't figured out what exactly had managed to hang Black Shadow to death at the entrance of Wen Yan's residential complex. Such a symbolic and brutal method couldn't possibly be the Scorching Sun Department's style.
But it must have something to do with Wen Yan.
This time, he hadn't dared to do anything reckless. He only wanted a closer look at Wen Yan.
Just then, his phone rang, and a subordinate's voice came through.
"Boss, I've picked up the guest."
"Good. Once you've got the guest, leave Virtue City right away."
He hung up and drove west, not looking back.
...
Watching the hopping corpse disappear into the night, Wen Yan wasted no time in helping Zhang Laoxi up, simultaneously calling Feng Yao.
"Feng Yao, the Wooden Armor Mask got taken by a black dog. It ran off into the wasteland in front of the funeral home. My client just leveled up and is giving chase. Can you track it?"
"I'll try." Feng Yao was speaking when a report crackled through his earpiece: they hadn't detained Mo Zhicheng. They'd stopped him on a drunk-driving pretense, about to take him for a blood test, or at the very least, make him stay and blow again.
But Mo Zhicheng had said just a couple words, and the staff—without quite knowing why—let him through.
Feng Yao was now absolutely sure Mo Zhicheng was a problem.
Checking the tracker again, Feng Yao saw Mo Zhicheng's car had already sped off, moving away from Virtue City.
He briefed Wen Yan, who in return filled him in on his own end.
"He's making a run for it."
"I know."
"I've got an idea. Do you think you could set things up so my client chases him down directly?"
"That's against protocol…" Feng Yao refused coldly.
"You know as well as I do—that kind of guy, heart full of obsession, able to move inside the old cold-storage facility…
Has managed to evolve again in just this short time.
His heart was pierced by Zhang Laoxi's magic sword, and not only did he survive, he burned up the sword and advanced further.
Do you even have the manpower on hand to kill something like that?
If not, getting him to fulfill his obsession as quickly as possible is the best solution."
Feng Yao paused, calculating quickly. After being stabbed through the heart with Zhang Laoxi's magic sword and surviving, there was no way the forces he could mobilize right now could destroy the hopping corpse.
And, according to Zhang Laoxi—and from what had just happened—if you don't manage to wipe it out in one go, it only gets stronger, advancing at high speed.
"I'll report it up the chain. We'll try to resolve this before daybreak."
Wen Yan hung up, then got into the pickup truck with Zhang Laoxi. With an engine roar, they were about to leave when the director hurried over, producing a blood-red jade pendant and handing it to Wen Yan.
"Take this for protection. Any expenses will be reimbursed. Don't get reckless. Survival comes first."
"Don't worry, Director. With arms and legs like mine, I was never planning to go toe-to-toe with anyone."
Gripping the jade pendant, Wen Yan instantly felt a rush of warmth flood from his palm through his whole body, driving out the night's cold and filling him with a cozy heat.
Zhang Laoxi, driving, glanced over and was immediately overcome with envy.
"Your director is really generous. To just give you Blood Warm Jade outright—I'd have to bag at least ten criminal little monsters for something like that from the Scorching Sun Department."
"How many have you caught?"
"Only three this year, and one of them was barely even a real catch."
Right then, Wen Yan's phone buzzed. Feng Yao sent him a shared location.
...
On a small rural road several kilometers from the funeral home, a man in a mask and a baseball cap whistled softly.
There were faint noises coming from the cornfield at the roadside, swelling from distant to near, louder and louder.
A black dog—half its face gnawed corrupt and monstrous by corpse poison—darted breakneck through the corn, Wooden Armor Mask clamped in its jaws.
The masked man saw the black dog burst from the corn and quickly put a case on the ground.
The black dog dropped the Wooden Armor Mask inside and even closed the lid, then wagged its tail eagerly at the man.
"Heizi, good job."
The man praised it, pulling out a big chunk of raw, bone-in meat and feeding it to the dog.
The black dog wolfed it down—crunch, crunch—devouring at least a dozen pounds of meat. As it finished, the rotten flesh on its face began to heal rapidly.
Right then, the black dog pricked up its ears and growled, staring back into the cornfield.
"Thunk…"
"Thunk…"
Some dead, muffled thing was hitting the ground again and again, each time closer.
Back in the corn, the hopping corpse, clad in midnight-blue burial robes, face stiff, eyes hollow, arms outstretched, leapt forward meters at a time.
The masked man realized something was wrong, grabbed his things and dove into his car. Glancing sideways, he could already see the hopping corpse's head leaping above the corn stalks.
Just one look and his skin crawled. He stomped the gas pedal to the floor.
But as the car jerked forward, the hopping corpse leapt from the corn—a good several meters—smashing straight into the hood of the car.
With a crash, the car spun in place and toppled sideways.
The black dog burst out of the vehicle, lips curled back in a snarl, lunging straight for the corpse's throat.
The hopping corpse didn't flinch or dodge, letting the dog's jaws clamp onto its neck, bones crunching. Its stiff arms drove straight into the black dog's body; blood sprayed, but the dog's jaws clamped on relentlessly.
Soon after, the black dog collapsed, turning into a dull, lifeless dogs' skin that fell limp to the ground. The wounds on the hopping corpse's neck closed up, bone snapping back into place at a supernatural pace.
The gray skin of the corpse now seemed to have the faintest sheen.
It turned away, still muttering, "I have to help my son…"
It sprang forward in a ten-meter leap.
Meanwhile, the masked man was fleeing for his life, frantically calling Mo Zhicheng as he ran.
"Boss, Heizi's dead—your dad's after me. I don't think I'm getting out of this—uh…"
The masked man looked down to see a hand protruding through his chest. He tried to breathe, but every gasp was sending blood flooding out through his mouth and nose, soaking into his lungs.
With difficulty, he looked back—and saw the hopping corpse. Its face was expressionless, even a little bewildered. Its empty eyes held no malice.
The corpse was still muttering: "I have to help my son…"
The man bared his teeth in a self-mocking smile, the light fading from his eyes.