Chapter 40 - The Most Refined Undead
The green-eyed zombie’s vocabulary expanded with each passing day, and as its literacy grew, so did its appetite. Qiao’er spent her afternoons devising new ways to prepare delicacies, catering to its increasingly discerning palate. Through this culinary education, the creature began to internalize the nuances of human etiquette. It learned that hands must be washed before a meal, that chopsticks were the only proper tools for dining, and that the fine bones of a fish required careful removal.
Before every meal, Qiao’er would quiz it on the names of the dishes and their primary ingredients. It proved to be an apt pupil. It could soon distinguish between various festive dumplings—yuanxiao, jiaozi, and tangyuan—though finer distinctions still eluded it. For instance, while it knew that the creature crowing at midnight was a chicken, it could not quite tell the difference between a hen and a particularly homely duck.
Meanwhile, Fan Shaojing frequently made clandestine trips to Guantian Court to check on Fan Shaohuang. His cultivation was formidable; when he chose to conceal his presence, the rank-and-file zombies, shrimp soldiers, and crab generals stood little chance of detecting him. Qiao’er and the green-eyed zombie were aware of his intrusions, but since he neither stole nor caused mischief, they simply turned a blind eye and allowed him his visits.
Fan Shaohuang, however, found the attention tiresome. "You again?" he grumbled one evening.
Fan Shaojing looked wounded. "Junior Brother, how can you say that? You are confined to this place. If your Senior Brother does not look after you, your life will be one of utter desolation. How could I bear to see you suffer so?"
He poured a libation of wine before the protective array as an offering. Shaohuang, still seated cross-legged upon his meditation mat, let out a cold snort. "Hypocrite. You are still plotting how to deal with Guantian Court, aren't you?"
Fan Shaojing’s expression turned solemn. "Though Gongxi’s power has grown significantly, her foundation remains shallow and her nature too innocent. My concern is still that green-eyed zombie. It has existed for barely a millennium, yet its intelligence has evolved to such a degree. Now that it has consumed the blood of the Ba, its strength is immeasurable. If left unchecked, it will eventually become a scourge upon the mortal realm."
Shaohuang took a long draught of the wine before replying. "Do not act rashly. The distance between gods and men is far greater than you imagine. However, in my idle hours, I have devised two defensive formations. Memorize the incantations and pass them to the disciples of Cuiwei Mountain. If a powerful enemy strikes, they should at least be able to hold their ground for a time."
As Shaojing committed the techniques to memory, he remembered another matter. "The Sect Leader has emerged from his secluded meditation. I shall arrange a time... I will bring him to see you."
"Forget it," Shaohuang snapped. "I’d rather not have him lose his temper the moment he lays eyes on me."
Shaojing sighed. "His severity comes from a place of deep affection. How about three days from now?"
Shaohuang remained silent. Shaojing’s frustration grew. "Shaohuang, stop being so stubborn."
Still, there was no response. Shaojing flicked a pebble at him, but the stone passed right through Shaohuang’s seated form and struck a nearby reef. "Shaohuang? Say something! Second Young Master Fan! Fan the Little! Baby Fan!"
Finally, Shaohuang’s voice thundered from the void: "Get out!"
In the days that followed, the green-eyed zombie discovered the allure of fashion—a truly terrifying force of nature. Trends in the mortal world were fickle; one season, everyone from the local butcher to the high official would be draped in flowing white robes, as pristine as snow. Then, black would become the vogue, and even the night-soil collectors would don somber, brooding cloaks. Later, purple became the color of choice, paired with silk hair ribbons to evoke an air of celestial nobility.
Whenever the green-eyed zombie ventured out under the cover of night, it would observe what the townspeople were wearing and return to describe the garments to Qiao’er with animated gestures. It did not yet dare to show itself in the light of day; its current appearance, resembling a reassembled corpse, was far too macabre for public consumption.
Fortunately, Qiao’er was skilled with a needle and thread. She was able to mimic the popular styles, tailoring them to fit its unusual frame. Consequently, the green-eyed zombie became the trendsetter for the entire court. Whatever it wore, the other zombies and aquatic spirits would immediately adopt. Even the nine-headed Ghost Carriage bird begged Qiao’er to use her leftover fabric to make it a shirt—a task that nearly made Qiao’er faint when she realized she would have to sew ten separate collars.
Eventually, the red-eyed zombie, always one for non-conformity, decided that they shouldn't just follow human trends. Zombies, it argued, should have their own sense of style. One night, it returned and gave Qiao’er a grin that nearly sent her stumbling backward in fright. It had fitted itself with a pair of three-inch-long fangs made of solid gold. Under the moonlight, the effect was blindingly ostentatious. Thus, the first uniquely zombie fashion trend was born: dental augmentation.
The Hao family Taoists, who came daily to give lessons, felt like coughing up blood every time they looked upon a classroom filled with zombies sporting fangs made of gold, adamantite, or polished bone.
One evening, after the green-eyed zombie had finished reciting the *Three Character Classic*, it decided to take Qiao’er for a walk. As they passed a secluded village, a lone traveler carrying a wind lantern happened upon them. The zombie was busy practicing human speech with Qiao’er and, lost in thought, failed to hide in time.
The lantern’s dim light fell upon the zombie’s face and glowing eyes. The traveler’s face turned ashen. With a shriek of "Ghost!", the man dropped his lantern and fled into the darkness.
The green-eyed zombie reached out a hand as if to stop him, but slowly let it drop. It stood frozen, a profound sense of loss etched into its features—a sadness so deep that even Qiao’er could feel it. She whispered words of comfort. "He is just a simple villager, ignorant of the world. Do not take it to heart."
She was about to explain what "ignorant" meant, fearing it wouldn't understand, when oil lamps began to flicker to life throughout the village. Shouts erupted: "A ghost? Where is the ghost?"
A mob of villagers, led by the terrified traveler, began to approach. The sounds of shouting men and barking dogs mingled as the orange glow of torches pierced the heavy night.
Qiao’er leaned down and kissed the zombie’s forehead, acting as though nothing were wrong. "Let’s keep going. I’m sure there’s wild fruit in the mountains ahead!"
The zombie grunted in affirmation and began to walk, but it couldn't help stealing one last glance at the approaching lights. It had learned to be hygienic and clean; it had learned to appreciate human food and use chopsticks; it was even mastering human script and language. But it realized that humans were a race that judged by appearances. No matter how much it learned, its physical form would always bar it from being truly human, from ever living as they did.
It knew this truth in its marrow.
Carrying Qiao’er, it retreated into the deep forest, leaving the lights of civilization behind.
A few days later, the green-eyed zombie could recite the *Three Character Classic* with rhythmic perfection. Qiao’er, having completed a survey of the local needs, decided to build a road from the northern end of the fishing village directly to the town. This served two purposes: to restore the reputation of Guantian Court and to accumulate Immortal Affinity through public service.
For the denizens of the court, roadwork was simple—many hands, or rather, many corpses, made light work. The zombies found the task delightful. Every night, they gathered to excavate earth, mix sand, and lay heavy stone slabs. Their strength was immense, and their speed was unmatched. Though Qiao’er hadn't notified the villagers, the sudden appearance of a half-finished road in the middle of nowhere naturally piqued their curiosity. Soon, villagers began to keep watch at night to see who was performing this miracle.
The zombies worked with tireless efficiency, hauling boulders and sand as if they were feathers. The only issue was their tendency to play in the mud when they thought no one was looking.
The onlookers soon realized these workers were coming down from Guantian Court. However, since they only built the road and did not harm a single blade of grass in the village, the locals were conflicted. They eventually concluded that Perfected Gongxi must be an immortal capable of commanding such monsters for the greater good. Doubts began to surface regarding Cuiwei Mountain’s claims that Guantian Court was a den of evil.
The zombies, oblivious to the politics, continued their work with gusto. The road was a shortcut to the town that had previously been a muddy nightmare during the rainy season. The villagers had long wanted to repair it but lacked the funds. Now that Guantian Court was doing it for free, they were deeply grateful. After ten days of observation, the villagers’ fear began to wane. Being simple, honest folk, they eventually brought out their own hoes and shovels to help.
Qiao’er supervised the work every night, keeping a tally of "merit points" for each zombie. These points could be exchanged for new clothes, fragrances, hair crowns, or even fancy prosthetic fangs.
The green-eyed zombie occasionally joined the effort. At first, the villagers stayed far away from it, but after a few days, they grew accustomed to its presence. They simply went about their work, coexisting in a silent, mutual understanding.
The zombies and minor demons were overjoyed. For the first time in their long, shadowed existences, they were working alongside humans. This fragile, bustling race, whose survival was the very goal of their own cultivation, was finally within reach.
The road progressed rapidly, and the villagers soon became quite friendly. Humans are strange creatures; once a positive first impression is formed, fear dissolves quickly. Some villagers even began bringing wine and food to the night shifts.
One evening, they emboldened themselves enough to offer the zombies a taste. A single jar of wine managed to incapacitate twenty of Qiao’er’s zombies—and they had only sniffed it.
The result was a collective bout of drunken madness. They caught the Ghost Carriage bird and insisted that all twenty of them ride it to "tour the world." When the bird screeched that it couldn't take off due to the weight, the zombies realized they were overloaded. Instead of riding it, forty undead hands hoisted the bird into the air, intending to carry it around the world on foot.
Among them, the red-eyed zombie proved to be the most dignified drunk. It didn't cause trouble; it simply found a nearby ancient tomb and crawled inside for a nap. In the middle of the night, a grave robber happened to dig a tunnel into that very tomb. Trembling with excitement, he pried open the coffin, only to find a "zombie" sleeping soundly inside.
The thief was stunned. This was a millennium-old tomb, yet the body was perfectly preserved, emitting a potent aroma of fine wine and mysterious incense. Panicked, he shoved a "black donkey hoof" into the corpse's mouth to prevent it from rising. The red-eyed zombie, in its drunken stupor, happily hugged the hoof like a pillow.
When the thief took a closer look, he nearly fainted. The creature in the coffin was sporting a pair of three-inch-long solid gold fangs.
From that day on, rumors began to spread that certain rare spices could preserve a body for a thousand years, and that some ancient corpses were so wealthy they grew teeth of pure gold.
