Sizzle—!!
Flames collided violently with the corpse miasma, twisting the air as heat and decay clashed head-on. The space itself seemed to warp under the opposing forces, burning, distorting, and trembling under the pressure.
The zombie was forced backward, step by step. Its arms charred black as painful, guttural roars tore from its throat.
Yet—
Neither Uchiha Mo nor Uchiha Hideki moved.
There was no panic. No urgency.
Only calm.
Cold.
Observation.
Because this fight was no longer about killing.
It had become a test.
A silent one—
Between them.
Mo's eyes flickered slightly as he analyzed.
Three-tomoe Sharingan… precise control… condensed output…
His strength… is not low.
Behind his glasses, Hideki was doing the same.
His movements look inefficient… but every step minimizes damage.
That shuriken earlier… perfect timing.
How strong… is he?
Silence lingered.
But both understood.
The zombie was nothing more than a tool.
A measuring stick.
At the foot of the mountain, three figures advanced quickly.
Leading them was a man in his forties with a square face and steady bearing. An invisible sense of righteousness surrounded him, while an apricot-yellow cloth bag hung behind his back.
Behind him followed a young man with light steps and a playful air.
And trailing them—
A terrified villager.
"Uncle Jiu! Please save us! The back mountain is getting worse! Graves have been opened—bodies are gone! No one dares go out at night!"
Uncle Jiu frowned slightly.
"Don't worry. Since I'm here… I'll deal with it."
But beneath his calm exterior, a trace of unease surfaced.
After decades of cultivation, his sensitivity to yin energy far surpassed that of ordinary people. And right now, the energy on that mountain felt… wrong.
It wasn't dispersing.
It was gathering.
Condensing.
Even devouring life.
His expression darkened.
"Ordinary corpse transformation… wouldn't reach this level."
A thought emerged in his mind.
A corpse-nurturing ground…?
If that was true, then this situation was far from simple. Green zombies, hairy zombies… perhaps even something worse—something controlling them.
"…Troubled times," he muttered softly. "All kinds of monsters appear."
Qiu Sheng blinked in confusion. "Master… is it that serious?"
Uncle Jiu didn't answer directly.
"Stay close to me later. Prepare ink line and glutinous rice. This situation… isn't simple."
BOOM—!!
A distant explosion echoed through the mountains.
All three froze.
"Master! That came from the mountain!"
"Did another Taoist arrive first?"
"…No."
Uncle Jiu shook his head slowly, his gaze sharpening.
"This isn't Maoshan technique."
That explosion was different—violent and direct. It wasn't formed by talismans or incantations, but something far more raw.
"Either… a hidden expert," he said quietly, "or something far more dangerous."
"Let's go."
The closer they drew to the mountain, the heavier the air became.
Burnt.
Rotten.
Scorched.
The aftermath of battle lingered everywhere.
"Master… it's quiet. Is it over?"
"Silence."
Uncle Jiu raised a hand as his senses spread outward, probing, analyzing—
Then his pupils shrank.
"…The corpse aura… is gone?"
Shock flickered in his eyes.
To eliminate a green zombie this quickly—
The opponent's strength was no joke.
They advanced carefully, concealing their presence as they approached the graveyard. Branches parted—
And the battlefield came into view.
Ruined.
Scorched black.
Everything burned.
At the center lay a corpse.
A zombie in Qing official robes, its chest pierced through, completely lifeless.
Dead.
Truly dead.
But—
That wasn't what shocked him most.
It was them.
Two figures stood there.
Young.
Seventeen… eighteen at most.
Dressed like ordinary villagers—
Yet completely out of place.
One stood calmly, glancing at a strange device on his wrist. The other, wearing glasses and bearing a gentle expression, crouched beside the corpse, examining it as if it were nothing more than an object.
Uncle Jiu's gaze sharpened.
There was no orthodox aura.
No spiritual energy.
Instead—
Something else.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Unfamiliar.
"…Not orthodox cultivators."
"…Those explosions… that aura…"
"…Who are they?"
Foreign sorcerers?
Or—
Something else entirely?