Chapter 59 Submachine Guns and Zombies

I shouted, raised my gun, and fired just as Fatty immediately pressed the top of the gun down. All of the bullets hit the ground, making an earth-shattering sound. The hair from the body lying on the ground was growing very fast, so I went to look at the corpse’s face. The eye sockets had suddenly collapsed, his mouth opened wider, and the green liquid seeped out along the black hairs.

Fuck, it was turning into a zombie!

The two of us rolled and crawled several steps backwards. I cursed at Fatty, “Your fucking words are useless! When will it fully change?”

“I’ve already admitted my mistake,” Fatty said. “I really haven’t seen a corpse change like this before. This is a fucking model for the determined disabled in the zombie world!”

“Look in that equipment bag for black donkey hooves or other useful things,” I told him.

“Shit, the bag wasn’t that big! Do you really think there would be such a thing in there? Do you think there are chihuahua donkeys in the world?”

I shined my flashlight on the corpse, which turned over unexpectedly. I quickly pointed my flashlight in another direction and said, “Go get Little Brother! Or get some of his blood at least!”

Fatty suddenly remembered something and said, “I have it, I have it! I don’t need to bother him! I have blood!”

“Your blood has no damn use!”

“Not my blood, it’s Little Brother’s. I asked him for it before.” Fatty took something out of his pocket, and I saw that it was a sanitary napkin with some blood on it.

“You—” I really wanted to bang my head against the wall. “Where did you get that from?”

“When Little Brother was injured once, I secretly saved it. It wasn’t easy to save so much,” Fatty said. “I’m telling you, you don’t need to light mosquito incense when you leave it at home during the summer.”

“Fucking hell.” I couldn’t understand this weird situation at all. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Fatty said. “Come on, let’s show this thing who’s boss.” As he said this, he pointed the napkin at the corpse and said, “Get down and hold out your hand.”

When I glanced over, I found that there was only a pool of green liquid on the ground and the body had disappeared. I shined my flashlight on the ground, feeling bewildered—the body was now lying on the coffin.

“He didn’t understand it correctly. Are you sure this is Little Brother’s blood?” I asked.

“Absolutely sure! I’ve never been careless with such life-saving things,” Fatty said. “Wait a minute. Ancient people’s pronunciation was different from that of modern people. Try the ancient pronunciation.”

“I won’t,” I said. “Little Brother didn’t say anything when he was intimidating the female corpse that one time!”

Fatty tugged at the napkin and called again. Seeing that the body was still unresponsive, he said, “Maybe Little Brother’s blood can only deal with the female body? Is this corpse a man?”

I shook my head and looked back at the body covered in black hair—it had only one hand, but still managed to jump nimbly from the coffin to the ground and start crawling towards us. We immediately retreated more than ten meters away, afraid of being caught by it.

Fatty was still holding onto the napkin, but the corpse was completely unafraid. Fatty had blue veins standing out on his forehead and suddenly slapped the sanitary napkin directly on the corpse’s face. He pulled the submachine gun from his back and said to me, “Damn it, it’s not reliable. Let’s play hardball and give him a second round!”

I immediately copied him—as soon as the body came within a few steps of us, we both lifted our guns up and fired directly at it. The bullets hit the body like rainwater, knocking it over a dozen times until it flipped over and landed behind the coffin. We immediately went around to look and saw that it was covered in smoking holes. But then the body flipped over, turned around, and continued to climb towards us.

“I said it was useless to shoot zombies with machine guns. The caliber of this gun is too small!” As Fatty fired several direct shots to hinder the body’s progress, I saw that we had broken its hand.

“Not necessarily!” I said. “Concentrate your fire, we’ll smash his head open!” Fatty and I pulled the triggers of our guns and chased the body for a while. As countless bullets were fired, I changed one magazine after another. We didn’t stop until the zombie’s head had completely broken off and the body stopped moving.

Green fluid was flowing everywhere.

Fatty and I waited a long time beside the body before giving each other a celebratory high-five when we found that he was really motionless. “Yeah, I find that each person with a firearm is much better than Little Brother!” Fatty said.

“Don’t say that. After all, Little Brother has more ammunition than we do,” I said.

Fatty pointed to the coffin and asked me if I wanted to check it out. I shook my head and said, “From now on, we’re not opening anything.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see it—in fact, I still wanted to know what was carved on the inner lid of that coffin—but I really had no energy to deal with any more emergencies. Just now, I had only agreed with Fatty on a whim, but my heart had still been quite uneasy. Our two constitutions obviously weren’t suited for this line of work—one encouraged me to open a coffin while the other was the inevitability of encountering a zombie when opening said coffin. I couldn’t help but think that I should be more self-aware in the future. Grandpa was obviously pretty wise not to let me do this kind of work.

Fatty thought for a moment and nodded, “Agreed.”

The way forward was just behind those boxes, so Fatty and I knocked them to pieces. Once we walked past them, we saw a third stone door, which was hanging from above and had a beast’s head carved on it. The door was half open, supported by a jack that was so badly rusted, it made one feel that it may break at the slightest touch.

There was a three to four hundred kilogram stone above the beast’s head that acted as the door’s weight-bearing stone. Such stones were used to press the stone door down.

I leaned my head halfway in and shined my flashlight around. Then, the two of us climbed in and saw an even bigger stone chamber.

This was a huge circular stone chamber that was half the size of a football field and had seven huge pillars standing around it. We could see a seven-star crest above. It was a bit like a tomb, but compared with other large tombs, it still lacked details. There was a high platform in the middle of the stone chamber that looked very much like the Zhang family’s ancient building. And in front of this platform were two small rivers flowing through the front of the tomb.

I visually inspected the width of the rivers and saw that the first one was about six people wide and had nothing in it. The second one, which was closer to us, had six stone bridges that all looked very different from each other. There was a terrifying animal statue at each bridge head. We couldn’t see them clearly, but all of them looked sorrowful and malicious.

Fatty lifted his foot and moved to go up, but I stopped him and pointed upwards. A rope was hanging above the tomb. It had clearly been erected by later generations and was very new. It was a modern mountaineering rope that Poker-Face had apparently set it up when they came in.

When I looked up, I saw that the tops of the seven pillars were umbrella-shaped, as if a large umbrella was propped up at the top of the stone chamber. They were carved with strange reliefs, some of which had hook-like shapes similar to the beak of a hawk or the tail of a carp. Such reliefs weren’t normal, so I could tell right away that they were camouflage. The purpose of installing these hooks must have been to allow a rope to skillfully pass through these reliefs. They must have been designed by ancient craftsmen to hoist things, and when it was done, the hooks were carved into various patterns.

On the other side was an iron hook, which should have been thrown from the opposite side and hooked somewhere on the ceiling. This kind of precision could only be the work of Little Brother. The rope was skillfully shuttled between the hooks so that it formed a rope bridge.

There had to be something strange about those seven bridges—if you got on the wrong one, you’d likely encounter a disaster. In order to avoid this trouble, Poker-Face chose another way—it really was his style to never follow the path others had arranged.

The river was six people wide—about ten meters—so with our current strength, it would be absolutely impossible to cross it directly. As a result, we had to follow the path that Little Brother had left us.

We found the end of the rope, climbed up, hung upside down from the ceiling, and crossed the outer river. When we came to the other river that was further in, Fatty looked down and said, “There seems to be something in the river?”

“What is it, a crocodile?” I asked, thinking that even crocodiles shouldn’t be able to survive here.

“No, it’s a dead man!” Fatty said. When we came down on the other side, Fatty dropped his pack and immediately made a hook out of an iron pick. He went to the place where he saw the dead body and waded through the water to try to fish it up. Unexpectedly, he managed to pull a black thing up from the river.

After pulling it ashore, we immediately smelled a terrible rancid odor.

As expected, it was a corpse, but it wasn’t an ancient one—was it a member of Little Brother’s team?

“Could it be the body of someone who walked across the bridge?” Fatty asked.

I shook my head, “Little Brother seldom lets his team die from this kind of mistake. Well, unless that person was completely unorganized and undisciplined.”

We turned the body over and saw that it was covered in mud and smelled of traditional Chinese medicine. When I took some water from the stream and poured it on the body, a Qilin tattoo was revealed. The tattoo was extremely clear on the bloated body. Fatty exclaimed, “It’s Little Brother! When did he die again?”

<Chapter 58> <Table of Contents><Chapter 60>

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Updated 4/26/2021

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