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墨書 Inktalez
I asked Zhang Tong if we should open the remaining two jars. Zhang Tong paused her actions and nodded. With her affirmative answer, I signaled the clay figure and the Fat Ma to take action.
However, before we could move, a terrified scream from Zhang Tong reached my ears. I reacted quickly and saw that the corpse, which had been lying in the jar, was now standing up, one claw gripping Zhang Tong's clothing.
Zhang Tong's face had drained of color, her legs trembling uncontrollably like a sieve. She struggled with all her might but couldn't break free.
The probability of a zombie appearing was surprisingly high; that thought flashed through my mind.
Half of Zongzi's body was still stuck in the jar. Seeing this, I pulled out my dagger and cut away the fabric on Zhang Tong's side. She collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, and Residual Anger hurriedly supported her.
"Quick, take her away."
Residual Anger responded in a disjointed manner, helping Zhang Tong retreat.
Zongzi was still gnawing on the fragments it had taken into its mouth, moving slowly. This momentarily distracted me.
"Old Sun, why are you still dawdling? Hurry up and deal with it."
"Oh," I replied hastily. I needed to get it out first; this was in line with Zhang Tong's insistence on protecting cultural relics.
Suddenly, I recalled the earlier speed of that Zongzi and became more cautious. Sure enough, I wasn't wrong in my judgment; suddenly, Zongzi sprang forward as if it had springs attached to its feet.
My heart tightened as I dodged and stepped back. Zongzi brushed past my chest and fell to the ground. At that moment, I could feel my clothes soaked with cold sweat.
Fat Ma was waiting for this opportunity. As soon as Zongzi hit the ground, Fat Ma raised his machine gun and pulled the trigger. The metallic sound of shell casings hitting the ground echoed through the chamber.
Zongzi was instantly riddled with bullets, black liquid oozing from its body, filling the tomb with a putrid stench.
Fat Ma put away his gun and blew on the muzzle, muttering, "Unaware of its own mortality."
"Clay Man, my shooting skills are pretty good, right?"
The Clay Man remained silent.
Zhang Tong, who had previously turned pale with fear, finally regained some composure.
I looked at the corpse lying on the ground, and a sense of dread washed over me. The chances of them turning into zombies were alarmingly high—almost a hundred percent. We had never encountered such a situation before.
Those of us who often panned for gold knew that certain conditions could trigger a zombie transformation. As mentioned earlier, if a black cat suddenly jumped out while opening a coffin, it could likely lead to a zombie outbreak. Additionally, if a corpse came into contact with human energy after the coffin was opened, it would also turn into a zombie. Both scenarios were possible but not guaranteed.
However, the corpses in the jars were guaranteed to become zombies. Although two jars remained unopened, I was already certain that once they were opened, the corpses would definitely turn into zongzi.
Moreover, the other two jars were larger and might be even harder to deal with. While I was lost in thought, suddenly Zhang Tong called out to me. His voice drew everyone's attention.
I shifted my focus toward Zhang Tong. Fat Ma stopped talking, and the Clay Man charged forward.
"Look in front of you..."
I glanced down and was horrified to see the zongzi on the ground had actually gotten up. One of its claws slashed across my arm, instantly leaving five deep gashes.
I cried out in pain as the zongzi's appearance became even more grotesque than before. Its body was covered in black liquid that resembled slime and clung to bits of shredded skin and flesh, making my stomach churn.
This was just a little zongzi, standing a full head and a half shorter than me, so the feeling of fear wasn't as intense.
"Get out of the way! Let me handle this!" Fat Ma shouted as he rushed forward.
I knew he was about to fire his weapon, and without hesitation, I stepped back—so did the Clay Man. But before Fat Ma could pull the trigger, unexpectedly, the zongzi appeared right in front of him.
Fat Ma didn't stop his advance as I moved aside.
"Damn," Fat Ma cursed as he tried to step back, only to have Little Zongzi grab his foot, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground, his machine gun slipping from his grasp.
Fat Ma kicked desperately, but Zongzi refused to let go. "Damn it, I messed up."
The situation unfolded so suddenly that none of us had time to react.
"What are you all standing there for? Come help me!" The Fat Ma's shout jolted us into action. Fat Ma struggled to get up, but Zongzi held onto his foot with a vice-like grip. The pain made the Fat Ma grimace, "What kind of sin have I committed?"
Mud Man seized a dagger and plunged it into Zongzi's head. Zongzi howled in pain, turning his head with a grotesque expression, yet his claws tightened even more around the Fat Ma.
Blood began seeping from Fat Ma's calf, and sweat dripped down like beads. "It hurts like hell! Dead Mud Man, what are you doing?"
At that moment, I was also quite anxious. I shouted, "Mud Man, each of us grab one of its claws!"
Mud Man sheathed his knife, and we pulled at Zongzi's claws with all our might. But Zongzi seemed determined to hold onto Fat Ma and wouldn't let go.
After a tremendous effort, we finally managed to pry him loose, but the Fat Ma's pants were torn in the process. Fat Ma quickly scrambled to his feet. "If I don't get revenge for this, then I'm not Fat Master."
"Everyone step back..."
Mud Man and I simultaneously released our grips on Zongzi's claws. Fat Ma launched himself down like a mountain crashing down, hitting the target squarely. A jet of black liquid shot out, and Zongzi fell silent.
Fat Ma stood up as if relieved of a burden when suddenly he felt a chill at his ankle. He yelped and jumped back, cursing, "You're still not dead?!"
But Zongzi offered no response. The tension that had been lodged in my throat finally eased.
Zhang Tong and the others seemed just as stunned as if they had been caught by Zongzi themselves, frozen in place and too afraid to move.
The three of us—Mud Man, Fat Ma, and I—collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath after expending so much energy. I gulped down some water while Mud Man took out bandages to tend to our wounds.
After Zhang Tong reacted, he immediately ran over to help. He tended to my wound, his long black hair already disheveled. Fat Ma cried out in pain while complaining, "Why is there such a big difference in treatment?"
I had long been accustomed to Fat Ma's nonsense, but Zhang Tong couldn't help but blush a little.
Once the wound was bandaged, I called everyone to eat something to replenish our strength. We found a clean spot and gathered together to eat.
"Brother Sun, Brother Ma, and this guy here, you are all amazing," he said, not knowing what to call the clay figure.
I just smiled, while the clay figure ignored him. Only Fat Ma puffed out his chest and said, "This is just the tip of the iceberg; there's much more impressive stuff ahead." It was unlikely for professional archaeologists like them to encounter such situations.
He looked at Fat Ma with some admiration. "Can I learn from you?"
Fat Ma was momentarily taken aback by this question and turned to me, asking, "Old Sun, what do you think?"
"Don't hold others back. Following the state will be more promising than following us."
Fat Ma nodded in agreement. "Yeah! You should stick with the state and work hard; following me means you'll have one meal and then no more."
"I'm not afraid," he said firmly.
This reminded me of when we were sent down to the countryside as youth; we had also acted impulsively back then.
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