Chapter 30
The next day, Uncle Wang was brought to the Grand General’s Mansion from Sichuan province. Li Xinjun rushed to see him, relieved to find him unharmed and still full of energy. She couldn’t help but ask,
“Hey, Uncle Wang, do you still remember me?”
“Roar! Roar! Roar!” Uncle Wang grabbed the bars of his cage, seemingly happy to see her.
“I missed you too! Did Sister Sang feed you properly?”
“Roar! Roar! Roar!” Uncle Wang bared his fangs.
“Oh? Was she really that mean? Or did you eat everything yourself?”
“Roar! Roar!”
“Okay, okay, I’m here now. You don’t have to worry about going hungry anymore, alright?”
“Roar~”
“Can you really understand what Uncle Wang is saying?” Brother Wu, observing their interaction, couldn’t help but ask Li Xinjun.
“What? Can you understand him?” Li Xinjun looked at him, puzzled.
“Of course not! It’s just a bunch of grunts and growls! I’m curious how you can understand him.”
“Oh, I thought you could, since you’re a pig yourself. Hahaha!”
“Hey, that’s rude! So, can you understand him or not?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you can. Otherwise, how can you talk to him for so long, and he always responds?”
“Sigh… Pigs will be pigs.” Li Xinjun ignored him and walked away.
“So, can you understand him or not?” Brother Wu called after her.
“Roar!” Uncle Wang suddenly growled from behind them.
“What is it, Uncle Wang? Do you also want to know if Little Jun can understand you?” Brother Wu asked him.
“Roar!”
“I knew it! You’re both thinking the same thing. Alright, you must be tired. I’ll take you to the dungeon now.”
“Roar! Roar!”
***
Meanwhile, Song Ling, still missing, was in a remote forest in Yunnan province, pursuing the jiangshi king. For the past year, she had tirelessly chased after the creature, day and night, but it was elusive and agile, always staying one step ahead.
She had relied on the jiangshi king’s demonic aura to track it down, but unable to keep up with its pace, she had been forced to kill and cremate the innocent civilians it had bitten.
She had no choice. She knew that if she left them untreated, they would transform into jiangshi. Although she felt immense guilt for killing innocent people, it was a necessary evil to prevent further harm.
After months of pursuit, she had reached this remote forest, sparsely populated and rarely visited. Only the occasional woodcutter ventured into this area. This was a blessing for Song Ling, as it allowed her to focus on confronting the jiangshi king without interference.
The jiangshi king, having fed multiple times, was no longer the desiccated corpse it once was. Its flesh had regained some elasticity, and it was starting to resemble a human again. It was currently feeding on a woodcutter, who hadn’t died but had merely fainted from blood loss.
Unlike the other jiangshi, the jiangshi king hadn’t killed anyone. It only needed blood to survive and never drained its victims completely. It didn’t want to harm innocent people.
The jiangshi king wasn’t inherently cruel or malicious. It possessed its own thoughts and knew that it shouldn’t kill indiscriminately. However, as a jiangshi, it needed blood to sustain itself. It had no choice but to feed on people.
It looked at the tattered bandages covering its body and ripped them off, discarding them. It then removed the unconscious woodcutter’s clothes and put them on. Dressed in human clothing, it no longer looked as terrifying. If one didn’t look closely, they wouldn’t even notice the faint patches of decay on its skin.
It went to a nearby waterfall and washed away the dirt and grime, then combed its hair. It now resembled a handsome man of mixed race.
Since the reign of Emperor Kangxi, the Qing Dynasty had established trade relations with the British Empire. The foreigners, with their red hair and green eyes, had initially been a source of curiosity, but people had grown accustomed to their presence and even found some of them attractive.
Many children born from unions between Chinese and foreigners resembled the jiangshi king: blond hair, fair skin, and dark eyes. They were considered quite handsome, even more so than pure-blooded Europeans or Chinese.
Before becoming a jiangshi, the jiangshi king had been the only son of a British earl and a Qing princess. He was a symbol of the bond between the two empires.
His full name was Marcus John Charles, but everyone called him Mark. At the age of twenty, he inherited his father’s title and married a Chinese woman. They lived a happy and carefree life.
However, that year, a plague swept through the land, and his wife fell gravely ill. The best physicians in the country declared her incurable, her days numbered. Desperate to save her, Mark sought out a legendary immortal said to reside in a cave deep in the mountains. Legend had it that if one were fortunate enough to encounter this immortal, they would be granted a wish.
The immortal was said to be elusive, and no one had ever confirmed its existence. Regardless, Mark, risking his own safety, ventured into the mountains, determined to find this immortal, even if it was just a myth.
Perhaps his sincerity touched the heavens, for he actually found the legendary immortal. It wasn’t a person but an artifact left behind by the goddess Nüwa. The artifact, imbued with Nüwa’s divine energy, had gained sentience over the centuries and, through absorbing the essence of the sun and moon, had attained immortality and the ability to take human form.
The immortal, hearing Mark’s story, offered to grant him power, but at a price. He would become a creature that craved blood and would gain eternal life, forever cursed to walk the earth.
Mark, undeterred, agreed to become a monster to save his wife. The immortal, using its power, infused Mark with its blood.
Mark’s body was wracked with chills and fever, the heat coursing through his veins, his inner energy in turmoil. Unable to withstand the immense power, he collapsed, losing consciousness. He didn’t know how long he was unconscious. When he awoke, the immortal was gone, and he was alone in the cave.
He immediately left the cave and raced home, his body surging with newfound power. His senses were heightened, his vision, hearing, and touch sharper than ever before.
He ran with all his might, desperate to return to his beloved wife. However, upon reaching his estate, he found it abandoned and sealed off by the authorities. He ripped off the official seals and entered the house, only to find it deserted and dilapidated. The furniture was overturned, the once-lush gardens were withered, and cobwebs covered every corner. It looked like it had been uninhabited for years.
Confused, he went outside and grabbed a passerby, demanding answers.
“Sir, do you know where the people who lived here went?”
“You mean the earl’s mansion?”
“Yes! Where are the people who lived here? Do you know?”
“That mansion has been abandoned for almost ten years. I’m surprised anyone is asking about it. The people who lived there… Sir, you have foreign features. Are you a relative of the earl?”
“What? What did you say? Abandoned for ten years? How is that possible? How can this be?”
“Yes, ten years. There was a plague outbreak, and the countess succumbed to the illness. Then the earl disappeared without a trace. They had no children. The authorities investigated and, suspecting that the servants had killed the grieving earl for his wealth, executed them all and sealed off the mansion. The servants claimed they were innocent, but it didn’t save them. It seems you’re too late, sir. If you had come sooner, perhaps they wouldn’t have died.”
Mark collapsed to his knees, his heart shattered. The sky darkened, and snow began to fall, despite it being June, as if mirroring his grief. Unable to bear the guilt and sorrow, he abandoned his identity and retreated into the wilderness, withdrawing from the world.
However, he was immortal and needed blood to survive. He lived in torment. No matter how hard he tried to resist the urge to feed, whenever hunger gnawed at him, a primal instinct took over, compelling him to attack innocent people to sustain himself.
He hated himself for what he had become. He even attempted suicide, but cutting his wrists, jumping off cliffs, and hanging himself all failed to end his life.
Then, strange things began to happen in the villages. The people he had bitten started to transform, becoming bloodthirsty creatures like him. Mark, realizing that his bite was infectious, was horrified. To prevent further harm, he made the difficult decision to kill the newly transformed jiangshi.
The authorities learned of these incidents and sent soldiers to capture him. Mark, not wanting to cause more suffering, didn’t resist and allowed himself to be imprisoned.
However, deprived of blood for too long, his primal instincts took over, and he slaughtered all the soldiers and prisoners in the jail. He sat there, covered in blood, staring at the carnage, consumed by guilt. He knew he couldn’t continue to plague the world.
He came up with a plan. He went to a remote village and offered a gravedigger a bag of gold to bury him alive.
The gravedigger initially refused, unwilling to kill an innocent person for money. But Mark deceived him, claiming that he was terminally ill and had no family to bury him. He pleaded with the gravedigger to bury him alive to end his suffering and prevent him from becoming an unburied corpse.
The gravedigger, moved by his story, reluctantly agreed. He wrapped Mark tightly in bandages, placed him in a coffin, and buried him in the ground.
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