Old Man’s nickname back in the day was “Mad Demon.” He’d been holding back at the main headquarters for nearly a hundred years without making a move—now that business had finally come knocking, who would dare compete with him? As the Zombie King, Edward Lewis was born with the ability to control zombies, but in this main headquarters, where would he find corpses to turn into zombies? Ever since becoming the Zombie King, he’d experienced firsthand that he was no longer afraid of the sun—every day at noon he’d go out for a walk and didn’t even mind the heat. But he’d never had a chance to test his corpse-controlling powers. Now, with a few reckless intruders finally showing up, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and he was just about to try it out. But Elder Grant was floating in midair, wielding his nearly five-meter-long, half-meter-wide black giant flying sword, charging left and right through the crowd. With every swing, something was split in two—if not a corpse, then a tree or a rock on the ground. The ground was a mess, littered with half-corpses. No matter how skilled Edward Lewis was, he couldn’t turn half a corpse into a zombie. Gritting his teeth, Edward Lewis shouted loudly at Elder Grant: “Elder, please stop for a moment.” Ignoring the admiring looks from those around the meeting, Edward Lewis braced himself and walked toward the wide-eyed Elder Grant. Everyone saw Edward Lewis lean in and whisper in Elder Grant’s ear, and the previously furious Elder Grant suddenly broke into a smile, waved for Edward Lewis to step aside, then with a thought, raised the black giant sword three meters higher, casting a swath of black light that enveloped all the intruders. With a tiger-like roar from Elder Grant, the giant sword pressed lower and lower, and those under its glow were gradually crushed until blood streamed from their seven orifices, and before long, each and every one of them was dead. Off to the side, Edward Lewis rubbed his ears, which were still ringing from the roar, and muttered to himself, “Finally, something to experiment on. Huh, who would’ve thought that this shriveled old man could let out such a powerful roar.”

From then on, the combative Elder Grant was often seen hanging around with Edward Lewis—no, more accurately, with Edward Lewis’s zombies. From afar, you could hear Elder Grant shouting in his raspy voice, “What, down again? This isn’t satisfying at all! Little Edward, what kind of lousy zombies are these? They can’t take a hit—two moves and they’re all down…” Everyone immediately understood how Edward Lewis had convinced Elder Grant to leave the corpses intact back then, though Elder Grant didn’t seem too pleased with the “reward” he got afterward.

To satisfy Elder Grant’s demands, Edward Lewis had to keep thinking of ways to strengthen those twenty-seven zombies. He racked his brains over it—every time Elder Grant wasn’t satisfied, he’d take it out on him. Poor Edward Lewis, newly crowned Zombie King, was already facing such hardship; all that pride and dignity of the blood clan was trampled mercilessly once again. After several experiences of being beaten to a pulp, Edward Lewis desperately sought ways to improve the zombies’ abilities.

He scoured all the books in the main headquarters and used up quite a few of Brian Lane’s treasured collections. At last, he managed to satisfy the battle-hungry elder. The result was actually quite gratifying: the twenty-seven zombies became incredibly powerful. Though they had no consciousness, they now possessed combat instincts, and one-on-one, they could even take on third-generation disciples.

Five years passed in the blink of an eye for these reclusive folks and a member of the blood clan. Edward Lewis thought Brian Lane would make him stay again this time, but instead, Brian Lane told him to go down the mountain! Edward Lewis was stunned. Though he knew this moment would come, he still looked at Brian Lane with hopeful eyes. Brian Lane smiled at him and nodded affirmatively: “It’s been five years. You’ve learned all you can here—staying longer won’t help. Go back. I know that even though you’re blood clan, you still miss your human family. It’s time to go see them.” Edward Lewis ignored what he said and only asked, “Do I really have to leave this time?” The answer was still Brian Lane’s reluctant yet resolute gaze: “Everyone here has liked you these five years. Honestly, before you came, the headquarters was lifeless. After you arrived, things got much better. But you were always meant to leave. Now that everything’s settled, it’s time to go out into the world.”

Edward Lewis knew there was nothing more to say. He knelt down and kowtowed three times to Brian Lane, calling out, “Master!” Brian Lane shuddered all over. Edward Lewis continued, “Even though you never said you’d take me as a disciple, and I never formally asked to be your student, you are my master—my only master. Master, your disciple is leaving!” After another bow, Edward Lewis resolutely turned and went back to his room to pack. Brian Lane sighed and muttered, “The eighteenth disciple…”

That night, lying in bed, Edward Lewis reflected on his experiences since becoming blood clan, and suddenly realized he was no longer the person he used to be. Ever since turning, he could no longer find that old passion. After achieving his goal all at once, the ensuing confusion made him lazy, and over the past five years, that laziness had gradually changed his personality—he was much more easygoing than before. “Seems like everyone likes the current me better, and I’m happier than I used to be too!” he thought to himself.

When Edward Lewis left, he didn’t say goodbye to anyone. He tossed a stone into Big Brother Grant’s room, with a note attached: “Sammy, your little brother is leaving. Next time we meet, let’s just see where fate takes us.” He lined up the twenty-seven zombies in front of Elder Grant’s door, each with a character on its back, spelling out: “Little Edward is gone. There’s something I’ve wanted to say for a long time: Sam Grant, your name is really terrible: Billy, haha!”