Mutated Corpse Pounces on a Man

This had to start with the mutated corpse that had escaped a few days ago.

The mutated corpse silently bit Number Six to death. The factory agents who took over the pursuit had not gone far before they lost the trail. After searching for half a day, they found nothing.

The factory agents took one look and decided, fine, time to head home.

After all, if not twenty, then at least fifteen mutated corpses escaped every year.

It had escaped, so it had escaped. The mutated corpse had fled from the Corpse Burning Facility; if anything happened, the Corpse Burning Facility would be the one out of luck. They had tracked it for so long that they could report back and call it a job done.

The factory agents left, and Xu Changshou panicked.

Who was this Xu Changshou?

He was the constable who had asked Qin He for the scholar's ashes to dispose of himself. There had been four constables on duty that night, and he was one of them.

Xu Changshou's ancestors had once been fairly well-off. The family had prospered for two generations, but by his father's generation, things had begun to go downhill.

Still, a starved camel was bigger than a horse, and even a rotten ship had three thousand nails.

Xu Changshou had lived reasonably well since childhood. He had tried his hand at many things, but none of them had worked out. Whatever he did, he was only half-baked at it.

At first, he studied. He could read, write, and do arithmetic, but when it came to sitting for the imperial examinations, he fell rather far short.

Then he went to learn martial arts. He did passably enough; two or three ordinary men truly would not be his match, but that was as far as he got.

Then he sought a livelihood and went into business with an uncle. They struggled along for years. You could not say they lost money, but neither could you say they earned any. Whatever they made went into their bellies, and not a single coin was added to the household.

In the blink of an eye, he had reached his twenties. After wasting all those years, he still had not brought home a wife.

But it would not be right to say that all his years of running about had gained him nothing.

He had made many friends, and he loved making friends.

With many friends came well-informed news. Half a year ago, while drinking with one friend, he learned that a mutated corpse had escaped from the East City Corpse Burning Facility. The corpse had reportedly attacked one of Wei Qiansui's merchant caravans. Wei Qiansui brought down the paddle, and half the Eastern City Marshal's Office, top to bottom, had been stripped of their posts. The four constables on duty had been thrown directly into the Imperial Prison, and one of the vacant constable positions had actually been left open.

Here, something had to be said about the Official Circles of the Great Li Dynasty.

Since its founding, the Great Li Dynasty had enfeoffed princes generation after generation, with hereditary titles that could never be revoked. As a result, fat princes dripping with oil and grease could now be found everywhere throughout the Great Li Dynasty, while the imperial court was so poor it practically had to pawn its trousers.

But princes were not the only ones in the Great Li Dynasty whose positions were hereditary and irrevocable. Clerks were as well.

The so-called Clerks were the advisers, runners, petty officials, and others surrounding the officials—those people who actually handled the concrete work.

Once the Imperial Lord's edict came down, appointing so-and-so to such-and-such post, if that official arrived in his new jurisdiction alone, he would be unable to accomplish anything. He had to rely on a group of people familiar with government affairs and local customs in order to truly serve as an official.

Aside from ranked officials, everyone else in a yamen was a Clerk. The constables at the Corpse Burning Facility were the same.

Clerk posts were hereditary and irrevocable. Fathers passed them to sons, sons to grandsons, and generation after generation lived off the government's grain. If there was no son, the post could be passed to a brother. If there was not even a brother, a paternal cousin would do.

Thus, vacancies among the Clerks were not common.

The moment Xu Changshou heard this, his mind began to work.

He was half-baked at everything. If he could secure an official rice bowl, he did not dare claim he would bring glory to his ancestors, but at least he could live like a proper man.

Without wasting any time, he used his drunken courage to rush home and scrape together some silver. Then he found another friend to lead the way and went to buy himself an iron rice bowl.

Perhaps because he went early—hey, he actually managed to buy one.

He smoothly filled the vacancy and began working at the Corpse Burning Facility.

Half a year passed, and Xu Changshou felt that everything was going quite well.

Until a mutated corpse escaped from the Corpse Burning Facility a few days ago.

Only then did he realize that if one's luck was bad in this place, disaster could strike.

The fate of the previous four constables lay right before his eyes. Whenever he thought of it, he could neither eat nor sleep. Beneath the Imperial City walls, who knew whom that mutated corpse might pounce on? It might even be an imperial relative.

The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he became. So he went to discuss what they should do with the other three companions.

But while looking for them, he heard the three whispering together in a corner.

One said that the escaped mutated corpse would be troublesome to deal with, and something might go wrong.

Another said, "What the hell are you afraid of? If something happens, Xu Changshou will take the fall."

The third made it even clearer. Master Cao had arranged for Xu Changshou to come to the Corpse Burning Facility precisely so he could be the scapegoat, ensuring that none of their own people would be sacrificed if anything happened.

Their own people?

The moment Xu Changshou heard their conversation, cold sweat poured down his back.

When he had first entered the Corpse Burning Facility, he had already felt that something was odd. He had never imagined there was such a scheme behind it.

Who was Master Cao? He was the "Second Master" of the Eastern City Marshal's Office. All the Clerks in this area listened to him, and outsiders called them the Clerks' Gang. Aside from Lord Liu of the Marshal's Office, his word carried the most weight. He had no need for the paltry silver Xu Changshou had offered as tribute.

Xu Changshou was both regretful and afraid. Every time he closed his eyes, he dreamed of being thrown into the Imperial Prison.

Logically speaking, it was one thing whether the mutated corpse would attack someone at all. Even if it did attack someone, that person might not necessarily be anyone important.

Yet Xu Changshou remained on edge, always feeling that something was about to happen.

Sometimes, a person's premonitions were frighteningly accurate.

What he feared came true. That mutated corpse really did attack someone.

And the victim was the nephew of the current Minister of War's Deputy.

Late one night, the Minister of War's Deputy's nephew left Yihong Courtyard in a sedan chair, eating hotpot and singing songs, when he was suddenly attacked by the mutated corpse at the mouth of a pitch-black alley.

The man in the sedan, along with the two sedan bearers, all met violent deaths. Even the wooden sedan chair was torn to pieces.

Old Striker, who had been keeping watch in West City, happened to see the scene. He let out a terrified howl, drawing over the yamen runners from the West City Marshal's Office.

The runners went to look and immediately realized something was terribly wrong. It was the nephew of Lord Liu, the Minister of War's Deputy.

A group of runners whispered among themselves for a long while, not knowing what to do. But the man was already dead—what else could they do? They had to notify Lord Liu.

Lord Liu hurried to the scene, took one look, let out a howl, and collapsed to the ground.

Both the Eastern and West City Marshal's Offices knew something terrible had happened, and they trembled in fear. The Minister of War's Deputy was a third-rank court official, the Marshal's Offices' highest superior.

The Eastern City Marshal's Office in particular was terrified. From Old Striker's description, the thing that had attacked the man was the mutated corpse that had escaped from the East City Corpse Burning Facility.

Yet for the entire day, no one in the Eastern City Marshal's Office received Lord Liu's thunderous wrath. Not until dusk was about to fall.

Lord Liu appeared. Where? At the East City Corpse Burning Facility.

Upon arriving, he said only one thing: "I have no son beneath my knee and have always regarded my nephew as my own. That he met this misfortune is Heaven's will; I do not blame you. But there is one condition: my nephew's bones must be preserved."

The officials of the Marshal's Office were overwhelmed with gratitude and repeatedly called Lord Liu a clear-sighted lord.

A crowd had gathered around them, and the Corpse Burners were all present. They saw that although Lord Liu's nephew's face was somewhat pale, there were no corpse spots. When the cart moved, the body was still limp and soft. At once, chills ran down everyone's spine.

Dead but not stiff—this was no longer some mutation. It was, without question, a vicious corpse.

By the rules, it should have been handed over to the Flying Fish Guard.

But Lord Liu had said that the Bones had to be kept. Whether living people or corpses went into the Flying Fish Guard's hands, they had never once spat out any bones.

Since Lord Liu had spoken, it no longer mattered whether it followed the rules. All he wanted was to keep his nephew's Bones and give him a proper burial. It was understandable.

At worst, one Corpse Burner would die.