Chapter Forty: The Young Princess of the Jiang Dynasty

Jiang Ling gripped his sword with both hands, holding it before his chest. The walking corpse in front of him stretched out its stiff arms, its claws nearly digging into Jiang Ling’s shoulder, its blue face and fanged mouth attempting to take a bite out of him.

Jiang Ling’s face twisted with strain. “Damn it, I can barely hold on! How are you all doing?”

A young soldier’s sword was snapped clean by the walking corpse. “Boss, if I don’t make it, check the insole in my room—that’s where I’ve hidden my private stash for three years. Please, hand it over to my mother yourself!”

“Bullshit! Gou Sheng, we came together, we’ll leave together!” Jiang Ling mustered his strength, knocking aside the corpse before him, took a breath, and shouted at Gou Sheng:

“Gou Sheng! You better hold on! If you don’t, I’ll use your money to buy spirits when we get back!”

“Boss…!”

“No more talking! Just hang on a bit longer! It’ll be over soon! Trust me!”

…

They formed a circle, holding off the walking corpses attacking from every direction. They couldn’t afford to lose a single member.

Jiang Jiu took out Nirvana, strummed the strings, sending a wave of sound through their group, though it did nothing to harm the corpses. The only effect was to slow their movements.

“Zheng! Zheng!”

[Master, try attacking their eyes!]

Jiang Jiu put away Nirvana, channeling spiritual power into a white blade that shot straight for a corpse’s eye.

A howl erupted; the struck corpse clutched its eye, shrieking ceaselessly. Yes! That was their weakness!

“Second Brother! The eyes! Target their eyes!”

Jiang Ling spun his sword skillfully, stabbing at the corpse he’d been grappling with. His body darted out of attack range, fingers coming together, splitting apart, curving, and striking right to the vital spot.

The walking corpse staggered back, howling in agony. As Jiang Ling prepared to finish it, Jiang Jiu suddenly appeared at his side, stopping him.

“Second Brother, don’t! They’re all common folk! There’s a way to restore them!”

Jiang Ling’s trust in Jiang Jiu was absolute—if Jiang Jiu said it could be done, then it must be possible. He sheathed his sword and moved on to jab at the eyes of other corpses.

Jiang Jiu retrieved a coil of silver thread from her spatial pouch—given to her personally by Huaize.

He had said the silver thread could restrain the walking corpses; bind them up, lock them away, and later find a way to cure them.

Jiang Jiu wound the silver thread from the corpse’s head to its legs. Sure enough, once bound, the corpse ceased all movement, its gaze vacant.

Jiang Ling led the charge, stabbing with precision, while Jiang Jiu followed, binding each one she encountered.

“Master! Watch your back!”

Jiang Jiu turned to see a corpse about to ambush her. She quickly formed a defensive spell, and a silver sword descended from the heavens, knocking the corpse to the ground.

As the dust settled, a group of spiritual cultivators in matching azure robes landed. Their leader, grinning with delight, swept Jiang Jiu into a hug.

“Niece! Uncle has come to rescue you!”

Jiang Jiu was dumbstruck.

Jiang Ling finally heard the commotion behind and scrambled over with the others. Jiang Sheng, seeing Jiang Ling arrive, promptly punched him. “Is this how you protect your sister?”

Jiang Ling looked bewildered—he’d been so focused on stabbing corpses he hadn’t noticed the danger behind him. What just happened?

Jiang Sheng, visibly frustrated, saw more corpses behind him and joined the other cultivators to cast a barrier.

“How many of these are in the imperial city now?” Jiang Sheng pointed to the trapped corpses.

“There are at least nine or ten thousand commoners in the city; I estimate over two thousand have turned. This is just a small fraction.”

With Xiao Jianjian’s explanation, Jiang Jiu finally realized the man before her was her second imperial uncle. Unfortunately, he was obsessed with cultivation and barely appeared once every three years. This time, he’d come out because of the calamity in the city, bringing other cultivators with him.

Cultivators accumulate merit through good deeds; the greater their merit, the higher their official rank after ascending. Jiang Sheng had come both to help the people and because he hadn’t seen Jiang Jiu, Jiang Che, Jiang Ling, or his royal brother in years.

Alas, three years apart—he missed them dearly and cherished this chance to see them again.

Two thousand was a staggering number. Huaize had only released fifty infected bodies, yet within two days the number had reached two thousand—a rapid spread.

The one that had just ambushed Jiang Jiu was altogether different.

His face was tinged with purple, lips pure black, nails entirely black, and his eyes were terrifyingly white, as if he had no eyeballs at all.

“What’s your plan now?”

“For now, we’ll move the unbitten citizens to the palace. The palace has had stone walls for four years, and their claws haven’t evolved enough to scratch through stone.”

Jiang Ling continued, “Then we’ll work on brewing the antidote. That should avert any major disaster!”

Jiang Sheng nodded. “I think that’s a solid plan!”

“Now we just need to lure these creatures away.”

A cultivator slapped his hands. “That’s easy—I’ll take my junior and handle it.”

“There’s one inside the house.”

Jiang Jiu’s words puzzled everyone. If there was one inside, just lure it out, right?

“Her son is guarding her. She’s tied up inside. When I went in earlier, she still had some sanity and didn’t harm the child.”

“Then bring the child to the palace; once the antidote is ready, they’ll both be safe!”

“The child refuses to leave his mother. He’s stubborn—so much so,” Jiang Jiu rolled up her sleeve, “he cut me with a small knife. I doubt anyone could convince him now.”

Jiang Ling grabbed Jiang Jiu’s hand—a pale, delicate wrist marked with a red scratch, already scabbed over.

Jiang Sheng took out a bottle of medicinal powder, but before he could apply it, the wound suddenly healed.

Jiang Sheng was baffled—no matter how potent, spiritual medicine still needed to be applied. How had it healed already?

He looked closely and saw wisps of milky spiritual energy weaving around the wound, slowly mending the scar.

“Jiang Jiu, you’re a spiritual cultivator? I knew it! Your mother’s a cultivator; how could all three children lack talent? Why didn’t you tell uncle sooner? You don’t even know how to heal wounds—made me worry!”

Jiang Jiu was embarrassed. It wasn’t that she couldn’t heal—it was that she’d rushed out to help Jiang Ling and the others, forgetting about her wound in her anxiety. Besides, it wasn’t serious; in just a moment, the scab had formed.

“Princess! Princess! Please come see my mother!”