Living Corpses, Dead Corpses, and the Dragon King Society's Plot

Shopkeeper Lu leaned against a black rock, emptying sand from his boot as he watched Qin Geng.

"You know those two? Tell me who they are."

Qin Geng made no attempt to hide it. "The one on the left with the flattened nose is Boss Lin, who used to run a cart company in South City. The lame one on the right is Guan Ershun, the head of Ping'an Cart Company."

"The Dragon King Society sank them both in the river yesterday, right at Xun River Wharf. I saw it with my own eyes."

"Yesterday?"

The boot slipped from Shopkeeper Lu's hand and hit the ground with a thud. His brows knotted. "They only died yesterday, and today they've turned up deep in the mountains? Looking like ghosts no blade or bullet can touch?"

"That's right. Yesterday," Qin Geng said firmly. "The Dragon King Society made a huge spectacle of it. They sank them in the river for all to see, claiming they were cleaning house. Who knew that housecleaning would lead to a ruined temple?"

"That fits."

Third Master Cao, who had been squatting nearby puffing on his pipe, finally spoke.

He knocked the pipe bowl against a stone with a tremendous clatter, blew out a stream of white smoke, and wore the look of a man whose suspicions had been confirmed.

"I hadn't thought of it before. Figured those foreign devils had dug up some ancient stiff from who knows where, or pulled an unclaimed corpse out of a burial ground. Never thought they'd be 'living corpses' who'd only just died!"

"Living corpses?"

Qin Geng pulled carts and practiced martial arts. He knew little about the ways of the Yin Trade, and the term left him baffled.

"That's trade jargon." Third Master Cao narrowed his eyes and pointed toward the pitch-black slit of sky. "When someone dies, their soul doesn't disperse completely within the first seven days, and the body's still warm. If the body's disturbed and someone works their arts on it at that crucial moment, we call it a 'living corpse.'"

"When an ordinary person dies, they're just a heap of rotting flesh. They haven't got what it takes. To become a living corpse, they must have found their footing and reached a certain level in their trade while they were alive."

He glanced at Qin Geng and said meaningfully, "Master Qin, you've found your footing too. Do you know what matters in the Hundred Trades? Skill that sinks into your bones and becomes part of your life."

"Once you've found your footing and reached that level, your abilities aren't just in your head. They're in your muscles, bones, skin, and flesh—in your spine. They're instincts honed over years and carved into your body."

Third Master Cao shifted his position and went on. "If someone like that can't rest easy in the first seven days after death, their body remembers what it could do in life, even if their brain is dead."

"If an opera performer becomes a living corpse, they might start warming up their voice in the Mortuary at midnight—and draw every wandering ghost passing by to hear the show. If a butcher becomes one and you reach out your hand, his hand-chop might be faster than it was in life. One strike, and he'll split your bones at the joints."

"There was a barber once who'd been dead three days. He got up in the middle of the night and shaved half the head of his own son, who was keeping vigil over him. His hands were steadier than they'd ever been alive."

A chill ran down everyone's spine.

Third Master Cao sighed. "That's why, when someone who's reached that level dies violently, you have to bring in a Yin Trade expert to subdue them and send them on their way. Otherwise, something strange is liable to happen."

Qin Geng understood the gist of it, but his doubts only deepened. "Third Master, you're saying Boss Lin and Guan Ershun were carriage drivers who'd reached that level? That... doesn't sound right."

Cao Xiaoliu couldn't help chiming in. "Exactly, Third Uncle. I've never met Boss Lin, but I know Guan Ershun. He runs Ping'an Cart Company. He rides in a sedan chair when he goes out, has people feed him at meals, and he's grown fat from easy living. Walking a few steps leaves him panting, and that bad leg of his keeps acting up. How could someone like him be a carriage driver who'd reached that level?"

As Cao Xiaoliu saw it, a fine carriage driver looked like Qin Geng: all lean muscle, with the wind at his heels when he ran.

Guan Ershun was just a rich local big shot.

"You youngsters only look at the surface." Third Master Cao shook his head, his clouded old eyes gleaming with worldly shrewdness. "Guan Ershun's fat now, and Boss Lin's scheming now. But think about what they were doing here in Tianjin twenty years ago."

"They clawed their way up from the bottom, one miserable step at a time!"

Third Master Cao's voice grew heavier. "Twenty years ago, Guan Ershun was South City's famous 'Flying Legs.' He could pull a passenger for three hours straight without stopping for breath. And Boss Lin hauled freight on a big flatbed cart through sheer brute strength. He could carry hundreds of pounds of cargo on his own."

"They truly made their living pulling carts. They worked hard at it for years, even more than a decade. That skill seeped into the cracks of their bones long ago. They'd reached that level long ago."

"But later they made their fortunes. One became a boss, the other the head of a company. With money and power, they no longer had to strain their own backs, so they began living in comfort, eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling."

At that, Third Master Cao gave a cold laugh. "Their hearts got coated in lard, and they forgot their skills. But their bodies—those frames hammered into shape by life a thousand times over—never forgot!"

Qin Geng felt a jolt.

He thought of himself.

Every day he pulled his cart. Every stride he ran, every time his muscles tore and knit themselves back together, every sensation of the road beneath his feet—it was all like a carving knife, shaping his body little by little.

So that was what it meant for the Hundred Trades to sink into the bones.

Miaozhen, who had been silent until now, suddenly had a glint in her eyes, as though a crucial piece had fallen into place.

"I understand!"

The Peachwood Sword trembled slightly in Miaozhen's hand. "This is what those foreigners—or whoever's behind them—have been planning!"

Everyone turned toward her at once.

Miaozhen spoke rapidly:

"The Human-Speaking Snake enters a living corpse's mouth, replacing its tongue and using its own soul to control the body!"

"The snake has the intelligence to follow orders; the corpse has the skills to fight and kill."

"Those men prospered and forgot their skills, but their bodies didn't. Once they die, the Human-Speaking Snake takes up residence and becomes a Snake Corpse. It can draw out the instincts hidden in that body and use the skills its owner had in life!"

"And without pain or fear, they're even more terrifying than they were alive! Refine them further with evil arts into Corpse Puppets and the like, and they're extremely hard to deal with."

"Foreigners must be controlling these Human-Speaking Snakes from behind the scenes."

Boom!

Her words struck everyone like a thunderclap.

The scene from their escape flashed through Qin Geng's mind.

The two monsters had been stiff, but the explosive force that let them leap several yards at a time and charge over any terrain did bear the stamp of top carriage drivers.

They were monsters that had pushed "running" and "strength" to their limits.

"So that's it..."

Lu Xingmin stroked his chin. "What you say makes sense, Daoist Miaozhen. But for that theory to hold, every corpse those foreigners took must have belonged to someone who'd reached that level."

"That won't be hard to check."

Third Master Cao tucked his pipe into his belt, stood, and brushed the dirt from his backside. There was a hard edge to his voice. "When we get back, I'll look into the recent deaths, especially those who'd reached that level. I'll visit their graves and see whether the bodies are still in them. Then the truth will come to light."

"Good."

Lu Xingmin nodded, a cold smile touching his face. "It's almost certainly that. Those foreign devils have big ambitions."

"Hmph. The Dragon King Society. What a fine Dragon King Society."

Cao Xiaoliu looked furious too. He spat on the ground. "No wonder those bastards have been so brazen lately. They've joined hands with the foreigners. In the city, they make the rules and sink people in the river. Then they fish the bodies out and hand them over to the foreigners to make these ghostly things."

"They've made a business out of the whole thing."

Qin Geng listened in astonishment.

He had thought the Dragon King Society was merely overbearing, bullying its way through the trade and the markets.

Now he saw that this went far beyond bullying. They devoured people without spitting out the bones.

Drowning people in the river wasn't enough for them. They even sold the corpses to foreigners to turn into monsters.

The Dragon King Society was rotten to the roots.