Chapter 387: The Zombie King Never Existed

The great battle erupted.

This one was far more terrifying than the previous battle.

There was no time to consider what Shamash's words meant—Shamash and the other ancient Mesopotamian gods had already surrounded and attacked Cangjie and his allies.

Though it was only a vision, the Dao resonance revealed in their clash allowed one to faintly sense that Shamash's power was not merely from ancient Mesopotamian mythology, but also contained the power of "that side."

Merely from this point, Takahashi and the others could hardly doubt that Shamash's words were fabricated.

The key was not just one, but all the ancient Mesopotamian gods possessed the power of "that side."

This was the strongest proof.

It confirmed that ancient Mesopotamian mythology might truly originate from "that side."

Their minds were completely scrambled.

Why was ancient Mesopotamian mythology from the future "that side"? Wasn't it an ancient myth from the past?

How could it have become "that side"?

Why did Shamash laugh bitterly and weep? What did he mean by "now I know I am from that side"? Were they themselves also deceived?

That must be it.

Then another question arose…

If they were deceived, and if Shamash laughed bitterly and wept, clearly they could not accept this truth—then why were they still fighting Cangjie and his allies?

They could have defected instead.

After all, they didn't know the truth; they themselves cherished the "past" and stood on the side of the Initial Realm—why not simply aid this side directly?

They claimed it was because all of this was a scheme, which is why they acted against Cangjie and his allies.

What scheme was this?

Did it mean arranging the ancient Mesopotamian gods as spies in the past, waiting for a critical moment to deliver a fatal betrayal?

It probably wasn't.

If this were such a conspiracy, and they wished to break free from the scheme and avoid being controlled by it, the best way would be to refuse to follow its arrangement—to stop being spies and cease betraying the past.

I am the master of myself.

In that case, the ancient Mesopotamian gods would be acting according to their own will, since they never wished to fight the past—they cherished the past.

Yet Shamash and the others did not do this; they still attacked Cangjie and his allies.

And yet they considered this breaking free from the scheme—it made no sense at all; the scheme didn't seem to be what they thought…

Could the scheme they spoke of not be this spy-infiltration scheme, but another one entirely?

Or perhaps there was never any spy-infiltration scheme at all—from the beginning, the ancient Mesopotamian gods were placed in the past not for betrayal, but for another reason.

Yes.

This was almost certainly the answer.

Then what was this scheme?

Takahashi and the others felt their heads would explode; they had traced their thoughts step by step, finally untangled their reasoning, yet still hit a dead end.

And yet…

What they called "untangling their reasoning" was merely following normal logical thought—but perhaps it wasn't that simple.

Because their assumptions all contained flaws, however slight.

Boom!

The gods and demons were horrified, chilled from head to toe.

Watching the battle between Cangjie and Shamash, they felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness, as if gazing at the vast ocean and knowing they could never reach it.

The battle of gods above the third step was no longer about destroying heaven and earth—it was about the birth and death of worlds.

The clash between Cangjie and Shamash.

The interweaving of supreme forces collided into chaos, sparking heavenly thunder and earthly fire; entire worlds were born within it, only to be obliterated moments later by the shockwaves.

Birth and destruction, repeating endlessly—making even the gods and demons feel their scalps prickling.

"Could Lord Yutsumi have created our Void Demon Realm like this?"

The Void Lord swallowed hard.

Recalling Yutsumi's legendary love of alcohol, and remembering Lord Cimu's evaluation of Yutsumi, he couldn't help imagining that Yutsumi had taken a sip of wine, the alcohol rushed to his head, then spat out a mouthful of liquor—which then evolved into the Void Demon Realm.

"Look over there—Hanzha is incredibly strong! No wonder she's one of the ancestral ancestors of the Zombie King, daughter of the Huang Di."

Someone pointed toward another region of the ancient Mesopotamian mythic realm.

Not everyone focused on the battle between Cangjie and Shamash; some paid attention to other supreme battles.

Especially those from Huaguo—they kept glancing between Cangjie, the Female Immortal, and the Ghost Gods, since all were Huaguo's deities, and affection extended to their kin.

Slap!

The man's father smacked him hard on the shoulder.

"What zombie king? That's the Heavenly Maiden!"

His mother also spoke up, delivering a sharp tap to his other shoulder.

"I told you to study history with us more often—you never listen. The Huang Di's daughter is called Nü Ba, the drought deity; 'Hanzha' is merely a name later generations gave her."

"The Classic of Mountains and Seas, Great Wilderness North Chapter: 'There is a platform of Gonggong… a person dressed in blue, named Nü Ba, daughter of the Huang Di… The Huang Di sent down the heavenly maiden named Ba…'"

"It clearly records that the Huang Di's daughter was called Nü Ba, the heavenly drought deity—there is not a single mention of the term 'Hanzha.'"

The man rubbed his shoulder and gave his mother a thumbs-up, showering her with praise:

"Mom, you're amazing—you've memorized the Classic of Mountains and Seas backward!"

Then he couldn't help asking:

"Mom, so does that mean the Zombie King Hanzha is someone else entirely?"

This person's parents, both PhDs in history: "…"

The two silently raised their hands and beat their son.

Then,

they finally explained to their son.

"Zombie King? What nonsense are you talking about? The Zombie King doesn't exist at all. Ancient texts mention the Hanba, but there's not a single record of a Zombie King."

"So you're saying the idea that the Hanba is the Zombie King is made up?" the son rubbed his head.

"Of course!"

The history PhD father raised his hand and smacked his son on the forehead:

"If you check ancient texts, there's zero record of a Zombie King. And that thing you told me before—the Four Ancestral Zombies: Hou Qing, Ying Gou, Hanba, and Jiang Chen—only the Hanba is documented; the other three are pure fiction."

All three are modern fictional characters.

The Hanba is indeed Nü Ba, but the name 'Hanba' was bestowed by later generations; her true name is Nü Ba, and she is the Drought Deity.

As for this Zombie King you're talking about, it's pure nonsense from watching too many zombie movies—Zombie Chronicles and Lin Zhengying films.

Also, stop fixating on zombies. Zombies are a product of the Ming and Qing dynasties, folk legends. There's no record of zombies before Ming and Qing. So don't go around telling people the Huang Di's daughter was a zombie.

If you dare say that, I'll beat you to death—I can't afford to be embarrassed like this."

"Oh, I see. Learned something new," the man chuckled, then slapped on a flattery: "Dad, awesome!"

On the other side,

Nü Ba faced off against a god from ancient Babylonian mythology; each move, each breath, entranced the onlookers—not watching a battle, but watching a fairy dancing gracefully.

With a casual wave of her divine power, her silk ribbons drifted like clouds.

Beautiful as it was, her terror rivaled, even surpassed, that of any god present.

Her slender hand struck, and a world teeming with life instantly became a wasteland of ruin—as if it had endured an ancient, boundless catastrophe, scarred and cracked, the heavens and earth like shattered mirrors clumsily glued back together, everywhere gaping with dreadful fissures.

A torrent of withering, arid energy surged, engulfing the entire realm.

It sought to erode all heaven and earth into the Void.

Flowers, grasses, trees, mountains, rocks, lakes, rivers—all living things withered and dried. The air pulsed like the mournful wail of a thousand spirits, eerie and chilling, as if a hundred ghosts, a thousand demons, and ten thousand monsters had once ravaged this place.

Even a crimson glow now cloaked the land.

Not a single speck of green remained—barren, cold, silent. The entire world was only black-red, earth-brown, and gray…

…

(PS: There are many interpretations in historical texts; I chose the one that suits my story.)