Chapter 52: The Followers of the Undead King – 2

As soon as the Undead King’s attendant had left, the warriors swarmed forward.
“Stand back!”
Zaguda waved his hand with authority, and the crowd obediently retreated a few steps.
He took a deep breath, walked over to his youngest wife, and glanced at her beautiful eyes.
She was a hairless woman he had brought back from a faraway tribe. Her face was different from ordinary women’s, and every part of her body exuded a fatal allure to the rough, uncouth men.
And now, with her sharp intelligence, she had taken on a sacred mission. It was time for him to give her a new identity.
“Come, let me see what this esteemed man left behind.”
“The Blazing Sword Path” and “The Thousand Arms Fist Technique”
The deeper he flipped through the pages, the heavier his breathing became, and fine beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
“This… this is…”
Could such a formidable martial art truly be mastered by a human? This should have been a powerful technique reserved only for the chief position…
……
The next morning, at the city gate.
The man who had beaten up the Temple Warriors the previous day had truly appeared there again.
Many people came to watch, whispering among themselves about the hairless man. That guy was still standing here alive, and even the temple warriors seemed to blatantly ignore him, completely leaving him alone.
The temple didn’t care about its damaged prestige; it just let him live. Strange.
“I’m going to pick the strongest person here to learn the martial arts I bestow,” Yang Zicang shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Whoever wants to learn, please step forward.”
Having fought tigers and wolves since primitive times and, a thousand years later, having independently slain dinosaurs, he could judge—not with a hundred percent certainty, but at least seventy or eighty percent—whether someone could become a powerful warrior.
With just one glance, most of the surrounding people were already weeded out.
No one dared to step forward.
After waiting for a while, Yang Zicang belatedly realized something.
He turned to look at the new gatekeeper at the city entrance and beckoned, “Come here.”
The man, who had been pretending not to recognize Yang Zicang, almost cried from excitement upon hearing this. He scrambled over, ready to kneel, only to earn a kick to his shin from Yang Zicang. With a yell, he jumped up clutching his calf.
“Stop yammering. I’m asking you—what relation is that child next to you?”
“He… he’s my son.”
“Are you willing to have your son learn my martial skills?”
The man instantly let go, knelt down emotionally prostrate, got up with red eyes, and hollered woefully at the child.
The dark-skinned boy quickly ran over, dazedly trying to mimic his father’s actions, but Yang Zicang scooped him up and felt over the bones of his young body.
“Not bad, with proper training, he might be able to kill a few long-tusked tigers in the future. Starting today, he’ll learn martial arts from me. By the way, do you know how to read?”
“I do, I do!”
The man gritted his teeth, thinking, even if I don’t, I can learn.
“Good. From now on, you’ll teach him.”
With that, he dropped the confused child to the ground, patted him on the back, and told him to go play aside.
Many of the onlookers were stunned. A young man couldn’t wait to step forward, but someone whispered, “Aren’t you afraid of the Temple’s retribution?”
“Do you think I’m blind?”
Another person led their child forward, and then even more people followed.
Word of yesterday’s feat—a lone man defeating a group of warriors armed with sacred weapons—had already spread like thunder through the nearby tribes and small villages.
Yang Zicang remained unaware of the impact of his actions; for the residents cowed by the Temple’s authority, what he did yesterday was nothing short of earth-shattering.
It had been common belief that anyone who defied the Temple wouldn’t survive the day, and yet that norm was shattered today.
……
At night, a boy who had returned from chopping wood entered a dilapidated thatched hut.
His stomach growled with a rumbling sound. Rubbing his hunger-pinched belly, the thin boy picked up a few fruits that he had brought back bundled with the firewood, dusted one off in his palm, and stuffed it into his mouth.
Suddenly, cheers erupted from outside.
“Great, we’ve got…”
“Let’s celebrate, hahaha…”
The boy glanced outside. A few people walked by, laughing heartily, as if discussing something joyful.
He looked at them with envy, then placed the firewood bundle beside the house.
“This martial skill is powerful, A Li. You must study it well.”
It felt as if a flash of lightning had struck his mind.
The boy dashed two steps out the door, staring blankly at the departing figures of the villagers as faint voices reached his ears.
“Martial skill… even the Sanctum fears it…”
“That man must be connected… to the King of the Undying…”
The boy’s breathing grew heavy.
He felt as if he had seen a light dawn. Could the prayers he had always offered to the King of the Undying finally be receiving an answer?
The boy immediately returned home, grabbed a piece of clothing he had been reluctant to wear, took a glance at it, then ran to the river to wash himself clean. Afterward, he picked up the clothing and wild fruits, and under the sparse starlight, he rushed toward the city filled with resentful people.
Even the dangers of the night could not make him flinch. He had to reach there before dawn.
……
The next morning, even more people arrived.
“Ai Kali, get in line quickly.”
“Big Log, make sure you show your best.”
“Sally, don’t worry, that adult is not a bad person. Go stand by him.”
Yang Zicang scrutinized more carefully to select the candidates he favored. He planned to leave three books here temporarily and the last two elsewhere.
Behind the crowd, a small, thin figure in a slightly tight linen shirt, with fluffy hair, stared blankly at the man who seemed to blend in with his surroundings.
In his eyes, it was as if the man were glowing.
“Alright, go stand over there.”
“Hmm, you’re not good enough. Come back another time.”
Yang Zicang sent one person back into his parents’ arms, and the child immediately started crying.
Just as the course of nature sifted out a few select candidates, rejecting the rest of the hundreds, and time was pressing, the little boy at the back of the crowd, who had never had a chance, made a frantic dash to Yang Zicang’s side.
“Hey, where did this wild monkey come from? Doesn’t know how to queue?”
“Get to the back. It’s not your turn yet.”
Someone came over to pull him away, but the frail-looking child, with some stubborn strength, twisted his arm and dodged to the other side, then dropped to the ground facing the middle-aged man and looked up.
“I want to become a warrior. Can I?” He fixed his determined gaze on Yang Zicang.
After Yang Zicang pushed a ten-year-old child aside, he turned to the scrappy kid and shook his head: “What? Afraid of a mere little boy walking into the back door?” No. This opening now throws shadows on the face of one from far time, echoing spirit of despair re-imagined…”
The little boy clenched his fists and said tensely, “Sir! I… I…”
Not really knowing what to say, he lowered his head.
Without a second thought, Yang Zicang rejected the child; he had no intention of wasting an Ability Sphere.
Ignoring him, Yang Zicang continued with his task until nearly noon, stopping only after selecting ten promising individuals.
Meanwhile, the child remained kneeling there.
“Oh dear. Don’t be like this. Go back now.”
The boy looked up with a hint of despair, yet deep down, he firmly believed this was the guidance of the Undead King.
He remained silent.
Including the selection from the previous day, Yang Zicang shook his head, turned around, and said to the twenty people, who varied widely in age, “Here are three books. Study them well together. Each of you pick your favorite to read in turn.”
Seeing three more different martial arts manuals appear, even the warriors from the Holy Temple couldn’t help but tighten their grip, their hearts filled with both anticipation and nervousness.
“In three years, I will return here to check your progress. If anyone meets my expectations, I will sign a contract with them and grant them ten years of life.”
Wow, the crowd was stunned with disbelief.
No one dared utter such words except the Undying King.
With these words, Yang Zicang vanished on the spot.
A thud echoed as the crowd prostrated on the ground. They finally confirmed whom this man represented. The kneeling boy stared in awe at the figure who had disappeared. He had never imagined such a thing could happen, yet it was all too real.
Three years… He clenched his fists.
……
The candle flame flickered, casting the figures of several people dancing on the wall.
“Ashi, how is it? Are you satisfied with this sacred water this time?”
The strange water, carrying a pungent scent, stimulated the tongue and throat in the mouth.
Ashi Zaguda, who had grown a bit taller, narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded.
Around the wooden table, three of them had very short body hair. Though these people lacked the physical strength of the warriors beside his father, their minds always seemed to come up with peculiar ideas and create special things.
“I… I want more. Could you give me a little more?” Ashi Zaguda murmured dazedly.
“Of course. You are the future Chief. Fulfilling your wishes is exactly what we should do.”
Upon hearing the word “Chief,” Ashi Zaguda’s eyes sobered up a bit. He let out a snort and said disdainfully:
“Don’t you know that my father has accepted the gift of the Undying King and gained a new life?”