At daybreak, Zhang Yang stared at the rotting corpse before him, somewhat dumbfounded.
He had thought that the monster capable of peering into his soul and even controlling his will would be some incredible figure. Who would have thought it was actually a familiar corpse?
That was right—it was the same corpse he had seen in another tent yesterday during the day.
At the time, the corpse had already been highly decomposed, with not the slightest sign of corpse transformation.
So afterward, Zhang Yang had scavenged it and then ignored it. Who would have thought that overnight, the corpse would turn into a swollen black-ball monster with considerable combat strength? If he had not still possessed the Salted Fish Mountain God card, he might have been killed unjustly in a daze.
He was an A+-rank transcendent, after all!
"Salted Fish, how's the situation? Are you dead or not?"
"Thank you for your concern, my lord. I estimate I can still live for a few hundred years." Salted Fish Mountain God's voice was very weak, but he also sounded rather excited.
"So what exactly happened last night?"
Zhang Yang asked, not without frustration. Right now, he felt like nothing more than a supporting character. He could not make head or tail of the cause, course, or conclusion of anything, as if he were watching surveillance footage without even being able to hear the sound.
That feeling was both fatal and deeply unsettling to him.
He was completely out of control.
"My lord, you must have been frightened. It truly was a sin. What came last night should have been some kind of soul ghost. What a great tonic! It was like tiger bones and tiger whips. My lord, I feel this world is truly wonderful. My divination was not wrong—there really