“One, two… one, two…”
On a bright day on a wide road, a group of people had taken to a particular type of walking.
They twisted with every movement, giving their all as they undertook the sheer ordeal that was walking. From how stiff they were, they looked like polio patients.
They were none other than Demon Scheming Sect’s disciples whom Zhuo Fan cheated by making them take the Zombie Pill. What started off as a dozen disciples on this journey was now less than ten, though their stiff faces showed unprecedented resolve.
They saw with their own eyes how their teammates turned into solid rock and how the wind carried away their ashes. None wanted the same horrid fate to happen to them.
“For god’s sake, Zhuo Fan is savage. Once you stop moving, you’re dead.” Kui Lang took another step, practically hearing his bones and muscles creaking.
He turned a worried look behind, “Gang’er, how are you holding up?”
Kui Gang was overwhelmed, “Dad, it’s been ten days without my cultivation. I can hardly hold on. I just want to rest. Now I know what they say about a life worse than death.”
The rest nodded their sorrowful faces, cursing Zhuo Fan’s lineage as far as they could take it.
Kui Lang gnashed his teeth, “Gang’er, keep going. Any break will kill you. You saw it yourself what happens to those that stop.”
“I know, dad. Master is so vicious, he expects us to go like this to the Double Dragon Gathering before curing us.” Kui Gang gulped, his eyes tearing.
Kui Lang sighed. He only held on so far for his son, or he’d be long since scattered among the clouds…
Zhuo Fan and the venerables watched over them from a cliff with ease of mind.
Fiend Yang frowned though, “Isn’t this enough? So many died already and if this keeps up, there’ll be no point in going.”
“I’ll just go alone then. Besides, my word is gold. I’ll stay by it to the end and let them endure it until we get there. All those who die are just too weak.”
Zhuo Fan snorted, “Look at them, aren’t they getting a steady pace by now? Just like plain walking. Now that’s progress!”
[You call a habit progress?]
The trio shook their heads, worried at the disciples’ weary and sweaty brows, “They’re nothing but mortals now, and having gone through such an ordeal for so long they’re at their limit. A break will do them good.”
“Are you sure?” Zhuo Fan raised an eyebrow, his smile creepy, “The day of Double Dragon Gathering draws near.”
The trio eyed him and were puzzled. It was like staring at a whitewashed wall but without all the emotion.
Fiend Yang thought Zhuo Fan was being particularly vague, “What’s wrong with it? Taking a half-day break won’t be a problem.”
“Alright then, we’ll do it your way.”
Zhuo Fan beamed and looked at the far-off town, “How about we rest there?”
The trio nodded skeptically, [Why is he so kind all of a sudden?]
Zhuo Fan flashed before the tormented souls shouting, “Seeing your great progress these days, the venerables pleaded for you, and I relented in letting you rest in the town just up ahead.”
“Truly?”
They all lit up. The harsh ten-day-long journey took its toll on their bodies, teetering on the edge of collapse. Steward Zhuo’s words were music to their ears.
“Don’t dally then, chop-chop!”
They sped up on the spot. The dangling carrot was too enticing to give up. While still stiff as wood, they were now resembling humans at least.
An hour passed, and they arrived at the town, though it was desolate; there was not a person in sight nor any signs that they were there. The stillness from even the lack of animals was eerie. A ghost town…
The venerables sensed something and frowned, “Zhuo Fan, this is no place to tarry. We better leave soon.”
“Take it easy. We’re only gonna rest our legs.” Zhuo Fan looked around, “Let’s look for a tavern and leave these now-mortals to rest their laurels.”
The others nodded, “Steward Zhuo, you’re finally showing some compassion.”
All they got from him was a wide smile as he led them to a tavern. The inside was just as desolate as the town, with dust settled on the chairs.
“There’s no one here. We’ll help ourselves then.” Zhuo Fan smiled.
The rest sighed, they were too stiff to even twitch. It took so long for them to get here yet not a single servant was there to serve them. Oh, the humanity!
Unfortunately, they just had to make do with doing these things themselves, or were they about to ask Steward Zhuo and the venerables? The disciples dragged their weary bodies into the role of laborers once more. Doing it in the sect or outside, was the same as being fated for this job. Everyone shared a forced smile.
Zhuo Fan and the venerables took a table, releasing their Discerning Field only to find it devoid of any movement still.
“This place is strange. By the looks of it, it feels like a demonic cultivator’s handiwork. It must’ve been recent too, going by the furniture’s state; half a month at most.” Zhuo Fan knocked on the table.
The venerables nodded.
Fiend Yang said, “I can only hope he’s no longer here…”
“He doesn’t stick his nose in our matters, and neither will we. Let him try and then he’ll get it, humph…” Zhuo Fan cut in.
The others snickered.
[The demonic cultivator must be a rogue one that steals others’ cultivation. Without resources, all he can do is resort to these despicable and revolting acts.]
Unlike them, who had a backer, stopping them from wiping out towns whenever they felt like it. It would only get worse as they’d be hunted down by righteous cultivators. Unlike rogues, demonic cultivators from a sect had discipline and self-restraint.
They were less fearful from the moment they knew they were dealing with a rogue cultivator. How strong could he be when he lacked resources? All he could do was pick on mortals. He stood no chance against these sectarians. Though there were exceptions, like the really talented rogue cultivators; they were an extreme minority.
“Cheers! We have overcome the first training.” With the cups filled and food served, Zhuo Fan sported an extra-wide grin as he toasted.
The others replied in kind, cheering and enjoying the respite.
After the meal, Zhuo Fan slapped the table, “Time to go!”
Whoosh!
Tried as they might to get up, they couldn’t. They were back to where they started, stiff as a rock.
“W-what’s going on?” Fiend Yang asked.
Zhuo Fan grinned all-knowingly, “Didn’t I tell you? Once you take the Zombie Pill, you have to keep moving or you’ll freeze in place. Now that you rested your legs, you’re back where you started.”
“You’ve got to be joking!”
The victims looked sullen and crushed. They just got walking figured out and now they were back to square one. The agony and the cruelty of it all waiting to be relished again had them all wish for a swift and easy death.
“Steward Zhuo, you duped us!” Kui Lang howled.
Zhuo Fan’s grin widened, “When, pray tell? It’s the venerables who wanted you to rest. I warned you, but did you listen?”
“Hey, don’t shift blame! You didn’t try to stop it either. “
“Yeah, you said we could stop, but we didn’t think we’d bounce back to the starting line. How can…” Kui Lang complained.
Zhuo Fan scratched his nose like a damn rogue as he admitted it, “Yep, I did it on purpose. What are you going to do about it?”
They all fell speechless. [How damn rotten and vile can you be?]
[If we could hold a sword we’d have run you through by now and hanged your head!]
Every single one of them held Zhuo Fan in absolute hatred.
Then, a red blade flashed straight for Zhuo Fan’s throat.
[We were only thinking of doing it, right?]
