Chapter 25: Zhao Zhiyan

The hand reaching out from under the ice was withered and sallow, skin stretched over bone like a dried chicken claw; it showed no sign of life, yet it gripped the living man's calf with a deathly hold.

Zhao Zhiyan let out a breath in near-despair. A Puppet Corpse? He never imagined that in this day and age, someone would still be able to replicate such Magic. He thought with horror of the missing girl from the Guan Family; was she lying all this time in the frozen pond outside the village, gazing up at the world of the living from beneath the withered grass and cold mist? Once she sat up and the reanimation was complete, she would tear him to pieces with brute force, just as she used to tear at beef jerky in front of her computer while she was alive. He could not help but tremble all over.

In an instant, all his knowledge regarding ancient Curses surged through his Yajian. In his mental tension, he frantically grasped at any useful fragments of information while casting a swift glance at the two boys from the Northern Academy. The younger one was already frozen in terror, but the older one... damn it... the damned Northern Academy was always so barbaric. Was it not enough that they had restored the forbidden Magic of Psychic Beasts? Were they now playing with Puppet Corpses, which had long been banned? What was the older one's name again? Du Zhengyi. A cold, calculating sneer appeared in his eyes as he looked at him with complete confidence. He had set the trap here long ago!

His face burned hot, shame and fury boiling in his chest. A surge of power rushed down from his chest, and in his irrepressible rage, he conjured an exceptionally bright golden Fireball at his fingertips; the Karma Fire would purge the filth and end it all.

He had not intended to use such violent power; Mage combat always emphasized agility and efficiency. But the fear of dead things was a primitive human instinct, not to mention that he was now so angry and humiliated that he was desperate to escape this trap and couldn't wait to give those two students a proper extracurricular lesson.

For a moment, he felt quite sorry for the corpse lying in the pond. Puppetry always bound the Mage's consciousness while they were still alive, much like an Undead Mage. For a person to die twice was truly too much, which was the fundamental reason this Magic had been abolished. But this sentimental thought flashed by, and he realized something was wrong.

That little brat suddenly shouted, "Holy crap, how can a corpse not be afraid of being burned by Karma Fire?"

Zhao Zhiyan took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. The corpse under the ice was not burning; the Fireball he had created was extinguished in the icy water just like an ordinary flame. The withered dead hand still gripped his calf tightly, a damp, cold chill seeping through his trousers.

He stared at the ice in terror, struggling to see the thing beneath through the filthy surface of the pond, though he also didn't know if he truly wanted to see it; everyone knew the faces of corpses soaked in water were always quite spectacular.

He saw nothing, but the dead thing was instead provoked, jerking his calf downward so hard that he stumbled and nearly fell into the ice hole. The dead thing's strength was gradually increasing; the signs of a full reanimation were becoming obvious, and cold sweat broke out on Zhao Zhiyan. His opponent was neither human nor a Mage, so the available countermeasures were already very limited. He did not know why the Karma Fire had no effect on the Puppet Corpse, so he could only choose a conventional combat method.

He had no mind to pay attention to the culprit and his furball anymore. He shut out external distractions, focused his mind, and quickly found the weapon mode he was familiar with in his head. Recited a thousand times, he knew every detail of that spear: the carvings he was proud of, the threaded shaft, and the symmetrical, flat spearhead with serrated edges—it was his improved French Broadsword.

He heard that furball shout again, "That spear is so flashy!"

He was annoyed that the person called Luo Qi had distracted him again. Eliminating the influence once more, he calmed his mind and thrust the spear toward the water. Judging by the position of the dead hand, this thrust should hit the corpse, pinning the dead thing to the bottom of the pond before the reanimation was complete. But the moment the spearhead met resistance, Zhao Zhiyan realized something was wrong. He was a well-trained Execution Mage and keenly realized that the sensation transmitted through the spear shaft was not that of hitting a corpse, but rather like thrusting into the mud at the bottom of the pond.

He pulled the spear out violently and slashed at the dead man's wrist, wanting to sever it directly. He watched as the spearhead struck the dead man's wrist, but instead of breaking, it emitted a harsh, metallic clanging sound.

He stood there, stunned, holding his spear. In an instant, he realized the truth and looked up, glaring angrily at Du Zhengyi, who let out a sneer.

At that very moment, the man moved suddenly. Zhao Zhiyan had not expected it at all. He had been an Execution Mage for many years, had carried out many missions, and had experienced many thrilling battles. It was not that he had never seen excellent Mages; he just never thought a Mage who had just turned twenty would have such a ruthless battlefield demeanor. Moreover, his posture was practiced, as if he had been tempered a thousand times over. Du Zhengyi was like a large feline; going from complete stillness to launching an attack took only an instant. He had just seen Du Zhengyi's figure shift slightly when a cluster of nearly transparent arrows shot toward his face.

In that instant, his heart turned to ash. He didn't even have time to think that, as total strangers, no one would just kill someone else in broad daylight. But Du Zhengyi was surrounded by real killing intent; there was no room for hesitation. His instincts screamed throughout his body. His face deathly pale, the weapon in his hand transformed into a sharp long blade more suitable for hacking. He couldn't care about anything else and, putting all his strength into it, slashed at the dead hand that held him.

The withered hand snapped off at the sound, but instead of falling, it darted upward, twisting and changing into a metallic vine. Zhao Zhiyan was dodging the arrow attack when he had only run a step away before the vine entangled his feet again. Zhao Zhiyan's momentum had been fierce, and this trip caused him to fall heavily onto the ice.

With just this delay, Du Zhengyi had already closed the distance and stepped on Zhao Zhiyan's chest. This kick was not just the power that muscles could explode with, but also the Auxiliary Magic System that enhanced strength. Zhao Zhiyan struggled a few times and then gave up, coughing ominously. His pale face turned crimson; he was almost stepped on to the point of exhaling his final breath.

Zhao Zhiyan stared breathlessly at the young man stepping on him. That person looked down at him; his face did not reveal a bloodthirsty distortion, only his eyes were sharp. It was just that his natural air made him look more like a predator. Now he knew: Du Zhengyi's actions were efficient and systematic. His first wave of attack was a trap; he had made the binding tool look like a dead man's hand. In this village full of death, the suggestion of death was everywhere, and Zhao Zhiyan had immediately thought of Undead Magic, making him timid and hesitant. Meanwhile, Du Zhengyi had used that time to calmly observe his abilities, and when he struck again, it was almost a fatal blow.

That furball named Luo Qi appeared in his field of vision, standing behind his companion with a cautious, gloating look. His black pupils flickered with a strange light, and the way he looked at him was very peculiar. The furball chuckled mockingly, "You have accumulated such deep merit; you're only a step away from achieving Buddhahood in the flesh. Happy?"

He couldn't spare the breath to speak. The foot stepping on his chest pressed down even harder. His chest was squeezed until it was almost bursting, his ribs on the verge of snapping. His ears rang, and fear uncontrollably surged up to dominate his body. "Don't..." he uttered a single, humiliating word that sounded like a plea.

He glared at the predator with bloodshot eyes. The furball darted back behind the man again.

"You aren't really going to slaughter him, are you?" the furball said with concern. "Because he killed your lion? If you aren't going to slaughter him, then let him go. I see that other people have something wrong with their eyes and will reflexively shed tears. Your eyes definitely don't have that reflex, otherwise you'd have to cry while beating people up; that would be truly strange."

"Shut up, Luo Qi!"

What exactly was wrong with that furball? Zhao Zhiyan thought vaguely as he slipped into unconsciousness. Why would a terrifying War Mage like Du Zhengyi bring him along? In the Chaos, he realized dimly that there were rumors the Northern Academy was restoring ancient customs, and this might be true. As for that unassuming Luo Qi, what kind of terrifying type would his ability be?