Joining Tiandao Company: Starting by mending a zombie world

Shi Fang picked up the wine pot in front of Chu Sheng, poured himself a cup, tilted his head back and drank it all before speaking.

"Do you know how many people Zhang Xianzhong massacred in Sichuan three years ago?"

Chu Sheng did not respond.

"Six hundred thousand." Shi Fang answered himself in one step, his voice not loud, but like a block of ice thrown into a furnace.

"Chengdu, Chongqing, Luzhou, Baoning... one city after another was ravaged by bloodshed. In the end, even the well water in Sichuan turned red."

He put down his wine glass and unconsciously traced a line on the table with his finger.

"Six hundred thousand wronged souls, their resentment reaching the heavens."

"This resentment spread eastward from Sichuan, and wherever it passed, the dead crawled out of their graves, and the living were bitten and turned into the same thing."

"By the time it spread to Jingzhou, it was no longer just a few lonely ghosts—it was an army of zombies."

The boy paused for a moment with his chopsticks, then lowered his head and continued eating his noodles without saying a word.

"Wait." Chu Sheng raised his hand, interrupting him, his tone carrying a clear hint of sarcasm. "You mean Zhang Xianzhong massacred Sichuan?"

Shi Fang Yibu frowned slightly: "What's the problem?"

"This is a big problem." Chu Sheng leaned back in his chair, a cold smile playing on his lips. "You keep saying Zhang Xianzhong massacred 600,000 people in Sichuan, but the version I heard is quite different from yours."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the thirty-odd figures in the snow outside the door before settling back on Shi Fangbu's face. He asked, enunciating each word clearly, "Were the people of Shu truly killed by Zhang Xianzhong?"

Shi Fang Yibu's expression remained unchanged: "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Chu Sheng picked up his wine cup, took a slow sip, and said, "Do you know what the Qing army did after entering Sichuan? They burned, killed, looted, massacred cities and destroyed villages. They were more than ten times more ruthless than Zhang Xianzhong."

"In the Sichuan-North region alone, the Qing army killed no fewer than 300,000 Han Chinese. How come you've attributed this entirely to Zhang Xianzhong?"

Shi Fang Yibu remained silent for a moment, a complex emotion flashing in his strikingly bright eyes.

"Zhang Xianzhong was a bandit," he said. "The Qing court was the imperial court. Bandits kill people, and the imperial court suppresses bandits. What's there to argue about?"

"The imperial court?" The young man suddenly put down his chopsticks, raised his head, and a cold smile, completely out of character for his age, appeared on his pockmarked face.

"Shaving heads and changing clothes, seizing land and forcing people to serve in the government, the Yangzhou Massacre, the Jiading Massacre—is this the imperial court you speak of?"

Chu Sheng glanced at the boy, his curiosity about the child's background growing stronger.

Shi Fang Yibu's expression finally darkened.

"You are Han Chinese." He stared at the boy, his tone turning colder. "But there are some things you shouldn't say."

"What's wrong with saying this?" Chu Sheng put his wine glass on the table. His voice was not loud, but every word was clear. "It was the Qing court that slaughtered the Han people, it was the Qing court that created the wronged souls, and now it is the Qing court that is making you clean up the mess."

"You lot, instead of going after the Qing government, you're coming to cause trouble for Zhang Xianzhong—isn't that putting the cart before the horse?"

"presumptuous!"

Outside the door, in the snow, a man holding a long knife shouted and took a step forward, his boots crunching on the snow.

He glared at Chu Sheng, "Zhang Xianzhong, that monster, slaughtered Sichuan, everyone knows that! Do you dare to defend him?"

"Everyone knows?" Chu Sheng laughed, a cold laugh. "Who made it known to the world? Wasn't it the Qing court's historians? You believe whatever they write."

"They say the Ming Dynasty fell to bandits, so you curse Li Zicheng and Zhang Xianzhong. Explore the infinite categories of the heavens, there's bound to be one that suits you. They say the Qing army entered the pass to avenge the Han people, so you're grateful. What a bunch of obedient and sensible people."

The man was speechless, his face flushed red, and his hand gripped the hilt of his knife, his knuckles turning white.

Shi Fang raised his hand and stopped the man.

"Master Chu." He looked at Chu Sheng, his tone returning to its previous calm, but his eyes held an inexplicable distance.

"We have different positions, so there's no need to argue anymore. The fate of the world is already decided; the Ming Dynasty is gone, and that's it."

"The Qing dynasty has seized power, and the people have no choice but to accept their fate if they want to survive. You say the Qing army massacred Sichuan, which may be true, but that's not something we Jianghu people can concern ourselves with. We came to Jingzhou for only two things—the elixir of immortality and to kill zombies."

"The elixir of immortality." Chu Sheng repeated the word, a playful smile playing on his lips. "Didn't you just say you came to Jingzhou to slaughter evil spirits and restore peace to the world? How did it turn into the elixir of immortality?"

Shi Fang remained unfazed: "Killing zombies is a matter of public justice, obtaining medicine is a private matter. The two things are not contradictory."

"Justice?" Chu Sheng downed the remaining wine in his cup in one gulp, slamming the cup down heavily. "You keep saying the zombies are the manifestation of Zhang Xianzhong's resentment after his massacre of Sichuan, but have you ever considered—why are these zombies appearing in Jingzhou of all places?"

Shi Fangyi frowned slightly.

"Because Jingzhou was the Qing army's main base for its southward advance." Chu Sheng stared into his eyes, enunciating each word clearly, "Back then, the Qing army marched out of Jingzhou, sweeping through Hunan, Guangxi, and Guangdong, killing more than a million Han Chinese in the process."

"The resentment of these wronged souls is more than ten times greater than that of Zhang Xianzhong. Do you think zombies would choose those with less resentment?"

The tavern was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The shopkeeper huddled behind the counter, barely daring to breathe.

Shi Fang remained silent for a long time.

"What evidence do you have for all this?" he asked.

"Evidence?" Chu Sheng laughed, a very sarcastic laugh. "Go dig in the mass graves outside Jingzhou City and see what kind of knife wounds are left on those skeletons."

"Zhang Xianzhong's soldiers used the standard waist swords of the Great Western Army, with straight blades. The Qing army's swords—were curved."

He paused, then added, "Of course, if you think I, a Taoist priest from Maoshan, am talking nonsense, you are free to verify it yourself."

"But with your sharp eyesight, I believe you can tell the difference."

Shi Fang picked up his wine glass, slowly drank it all, and when he put the glass down, he lightly touched the rim of the glass with his finger.

"Even if what you're saying is true," he finally spoke, his voice a few decibels lower than before, "so what?"

Chu Sheng didn't speak, he just looked at him.

"Whether it was the Qing Dynasty or Zhang Xianzhong, it's all in the past. Who was right and who was wrong is meaningless to the dead."

Shi Fang stood up, slung his sword back over his shoulder, and said, "I came to Jingzhou only to kill zombies. As for how the zombies came to be—that's not important."

He turned and walked towards the door, but when he reached the door, he suddenly stopped and looked back at Chu Sheng.

"Master Chu, you are a disciple of Maoshan; slaying demons and monsters is your duty. What about the zombies in the dense forest outside Jingzhou City? Will you kill them or not?"

Chu Sheng picked up his wine glass and said leisurely, "Of course, we must kill the zombies. But after we're done, I'll investigate where these zombies came from."