Zombie San Niang

Xiao Jian brought out a set of wooden throwing knives and led Ding Shi into the courtyard. The motion for throwing knives varied with distance. At close range, it was called a "wrist dart"—flung using the power of the wrist and fingers, ideal for surprise attacks and consistently effective. Willow-leaf throwing knives, however, were slightly larger than ordinary darts and not well suited for ambushes. Correspondingly, their flight distance and lethal range were somewhat greater than those of standard darts. Having once been a sacrificial bride, Xiao Jian was remarkably good-looking. But as a gentleman—and a gentleman thoroughly captivated by throwing knives—Ding Shi remained entirely unmoved. He studied earnestly for two hours, stopping only when Xiao Suan finished prepping the ingredients and Xiao Jian went in to cook. Ding Shi had grasped the fundamentals of knife-throwing; all that remained was practice. The sixth day, 7:00 PM. Night fell. While having dinner with the siblings, Ding Shi heard a system notification chime. Focusing his mind, he opened the system interface and saw that the instance's danger level had been adjusted again, raised from low to medium. Seeing him zone out, Xiao Suan spoke up: "Brother Ding Shi?" Snapping back to reality, Ding Shi drew five dao from his bank card and laid them on the table. "You two, I'd like to buy some more sundries." Xiao Suan smiled, poured Ding Shi some liquor, and said, "Brother Ding Shi, feel free to take whatever catches your eye." Ding Shi did not stand on ceremony. He downed the liquor, finished eating, and began rummaging through Xiao Suan's house. Half an hour later, he bid the siblings farewell and rode his bicycle toward San Niang Temple. ... Outside San Niang Temple, not a soul was in sight. Ding Shi entered and saw Daoist Baiyun meditating solemnly on a prayer mat. Aside from him, the temple was empty. Ding Shi asked, "Daoist, is everything going smoothly?" Daoist Baiyun shook his head gently. "This humble Daoist has never crossed paths with her and cannot gauge her depth. I have no confidence I can keep her trapped." Ding Shi asked, "Daoist, suppose San Niang's spirit breaks free and becomes a malevolent ghost. Is there any way to evade her deadly hunt?" Daoist Baiyun replied, "When malevolent ghosts kill, they are bound by the Heavenly Dao. So long as one does not violate their taboos, they are powerless." Ding Shi said, "And if one does violate a taboo?" Daoist Baiyun gave no answer. He simply chanted, "Immeasurable Heavenly Worthy," and closed his eyes in silence. "Young Ding." The familiar voice came again. Stepping outside, Ding Shi found none other than the village chief, whose satisfaction rating sat at ninety-nine points. The village chief said, "Young Ding, tonight you will join the groom to welcome the bride. You'll be in charge of setting off firecrackers. Set off a string every hundred paces, and another string at every crossroads." Ding Shi asked, "Where are the firecrackers?" The village chief said, "The supply and marketing cooperative delivered them to my house this afternoon. Go straight there to pick them up, then rest for a few hours. Gather with everyone at the village entrance before midnight." Ding Shi agreed and rode his bicycle toward the village chief's house. The chief's daughter-in-law was just heading out and chatted with him for a moment; she was going to Haitang's neighbor's house to prepare ingredients for tomorrow's midday banquet. The daughter-in-law said, "Ding Shi, two chickens haven't returned to the coop yet. Keep an eye out for them, will you?" "Sure," Ding Shi agreed readily. Ding Shi first located two bags filled with small strings of firecrackers. He refrained from converting them into cards so the villagers wouldn't brand him as a practitioner of sorcery. He washed his face, soaked his feet, and dumped the water. Then he went to check the chicken coop in the backyard, but didn't see the two chickens she had mentioned. Just as he turned to leave, he heard the flapping of chicken wings outside the backyard wall. Ding Shi placed both hands on the wall and hoisted himself up. Detecting movement in the brush ten meters away, he pulled out his flashlight and shone the beam over. There stood a woman in a red bridal gown, her teeth sunk deep into the neck of a hen, noisily sucking its blood with ragged gasps. Was that not San Niang? The beam illuminated San Niang's face, yet she showed no reaction. After a moment, she released the chicken in her hands and turned her head toward Ding Shi atop the wall. Ghost San Niang? Old Daoist, are you up to this or not? Why would Ghost San Niang drink chicken blood? He had it wrong—this wasn't Ghost San Niang, this was Zombie San Niang. Realizing this, Ding Shi instantly held his breath. Zombie San Niang moved with blinding speed, darting directly below the wall in a flash and craning her head to gaze up at Ding Shi, who was mere inches away. Tilting her head, her gaze darted left and right past him. Ding Shi kept Blind Zhao's words firmly in mind: zombies hunted prey through breathing, though sounds near prey could also attract them. Blind Zhao might be a con artist, but his information was reasonably reliable. Zombie San Niang turned and shuffled off along the narrow lane outside the back wall, step by step, heading wherever she might catch the scent of living humans or livestock. Ding Shi dropped from the wall, landing on the balls of his feet. Like a cartoon character, he tiptoed back into the village chief's house, only then daring to draw deep breaths. San Niang had originally been a single entity, but the old Daoist had split her in two, doubling the threat. Whether Ghost San Niang could even be suppressed was still up in the air, and now Zombie San Niang had begun wandering the village. A multiple-choice question: Option One: Go see Daoist Baiyun and explain the situation. This was a bad option. First, even Daoist Baiyun's master hadn't been adept at catching zombies. Second, Daoist Baiyun was currently focusing all his energy on suppressing Ghost San Niang. Explaining the situation to him now would offer no benefit other than breaking his concentration. Option Two: Find somewhere to hole up. One place was Datou's hamlet, separated from Taoyuan Village by a two-li no-man's-land; since Zombie San Niang tracked prey by breath, the likelihood of her heading to the hamlet was slim. Another place was Blind Zhao's home, which was far from the other villagers, and Blind Zhao possessed at least some skill, enough to hold out in a pinch. The final option was Baiyun Temple, turning the tables on San Niang with a back-thrust: since you came down into the village, I'll go up into the coffin. As for the task given by the village chief—given the current situation, the main task was virtually impossible to complete; would the village chief's side quest even matter anymore? "Wang Wu, Wang Wu?" Sun Qi's voice called from outside. Ding Shi walked out to the courtyard and said, "Come in." Sun Qi pushed the door open, a bookbag slung over her shoulder. Glancing around furtively, she asked in a low voice, "Is there somewhere we can talk privately?" Ding Shi gestured for her to sit in the living room and said, "I'm the only one here. What's going on?" Sun Qi said, "I got my hands on some good stuff." With that, Sun Qi produced three cards: a Detonator Card, a Five-Kilogram Explosives Card, and a Fuse Card. Such things had vanished among modern civilians, but in that era they were not uncommon, nor were they strictly regulated. Nationwide confiscation of firearms had begun in 1991, with formal legislation passed in 1996. Ammunition had been quite common as well; practically anyone born after 1975 had kept a few bullets as toys. Back then, children in certain regions had a form of recreation: blast fishing. Step one: scavenge penicillin vials from the hospital—tiny little bottles. Step two: fill half the vial with gunpowder, insert a fuse, and pack rolled-up paper tightly over the powder all the way to the rim. Step three: seal the opening with soap and let the soap dry in the sun. And just like that, a mini-bomb was ready. Next, light the fuse and toss it into deep water. A few seconds later, a flash of light would illuminate the depths, followed by a low, muffled thud. Shortly after, a vast carpet of fish would belly up and float to the surface. These little bombs were modeled after reservoir blast fishing, where a single blast could send waves surging dozens of meters into the air, blanketing an entire stretch of water with glistening white fish bellies—a magnificent spectacle. As an undercover agent, Ding Shi had posed only as a criminal, not a terrorist; he had no hands-on experience making homemade bombs. Still, he possessed the theoretical knowledge. He inserted the detonator into the explosive and fitted the fuse into the detonator, and that was that. Sun Qi started explaining how she had gotten the explosives. Ding Shi, his mind wandering elsewhere, thought to himself: *This thing can only blow up villagers; what good is it?* Seeing how thrilled she was, though, he didn't pour cold water on her enthusiasm. He humored her with a few perfunctory remarks, hoping to send her on her way. Just as Ding Shi was seeing her out, a commotion arose from the backyard chicken coop—a frantic flapping of wings mingled with the panicked squawking of chickens. *Damn it, Zombie San Niang, do you have to torment the exact same household?*