Cultivator In A Zombie Apocalypse

A handful of shambling undead had wandered over in the last two days, the man"s scent and sweat upon the wind having called to them. Two of the unliving were canines. This did not bother Ren Zexian so much as he leapt down from the building, sword at hand. They were admittedly faster and their teeth sharper, but once their heads were removed from their bodies, they were corpses all the same. But for the stench! True enough, a rotting corpse smells unpleasant at the best of times, but the dogs aroma was far more potent. It could only be described as a mix of wet, diseased beast and dying flesh. But it was also perfect as camouflage, he felt and cut off the black-b.l.o.o.d.y tails to hang them from his belt. Very unpleasant.

As he began to walk across the gra.s.sless, grey field before him, he noticed the strange, metal shapes formed upon thick black wheels and wondered if these were not some sort of closed wagon. But then, where were the horses? Had they too become animated creatures of rotting flesh and bone as well? He did not notice any more of the wandering corpses about as he cross the dusty field, so he a.s.sumed that they had fled.

It seemed, however, that the yin energy had somehow transformed the ground beyond this area as well. The stretch of land was black, with odd white lines and a heavy scent that made his nose curl. Perhaps this would also hide his own body odour as he walked nearby it on the healthier soil. It had not spread too thickly, just so far and even seemed to form a path cutting through the land of gra.s.s, scrub and spa.r.s.e saplings. He thought about this for a moment and decided to follow the tainted ground to see where it lead.

He remained armed, all this time, daring not to sheath his weapon. He wished he could fly using its strength, but in his weakened state, the sword was no longer speaking to him. To fly or even just to summon it was now beyond him. Now, he was just a few steps better than a mortal man, even a small undead could hurt him if he was careless. He was just grateful that he had not lost his golden core with his cultivation. Ordinarily, it would not be formed until Quaternary rank.

The sun reached its peak and began its long descent towards the horizon. Ren Zexian felt parched. At first, the dryness was a little bit of a novelty as he had not felt hunger nor thirst since he had turned 102. That was not to say that he did not partake in tea or sake from time to time, in the centuries that followed, just that he no longer had the need. However now, as time wore on, he began to crave water. He ignored it for sometime, continuing his steady pace, pa.s.sing trees and rocks and more metal, horseless wagons. He sliced off the head of another undead being barely pausing to do so, before glancing around wondering where he might find a drink.

He also needed to find shelter. The sun"s path would surely indicate that it was near evening and he suspected that the corpses would become more active at night, if his former experiences were anything to go by. That and he needed to meditate as well as check on his poison core for occasionally it felt strange as if it"s deadly heart was stirring. He hoped not to use more spiritual energy to strengthen its yang half which was clearly protecting him from further corruption, but he would if necessary.

Just as the light of day began to melt into an autumn rainbow of colour, Ren Zexian spied the first houses. There was rows of them, quite uniform and somewhat tightly packed, but they used gla.s.s windows. There must be a person of wealth within! He knocked upon the wooden door, attempting to be polite, but there came no answer. The poison core stirred in his gut and his subconsciously began to rub his stomach. Finding the door unlocked, he cautiously pushed it open. Sure enough, two undead leapt for the opening, one tall, one very short. He stepped back and killed both decisively. Using his feet to push them out of the door, he entered the building, but could not hear the sounds of any other creature, living or otherwise.

Shutting the door behind him, he explored the s.p.a.ce. It was a tiny s.p.a.ce with open door ways scattered about it and a set of stairs. The rug upon the floor was a single colour and patternless, cut to every edge and even so up the stairs! He glanced into the first room, marvelling over the chairs made of thick pillows and the amazingly life like paintings in gla.s.s upon the walls. From these he could see that the natives had been human, like his own people, though their eyes were shaped more like lotus petals rather than peach blossoms and lines of face more prominent.

Another room led to a place with lots of cupboards, a large bowl of metal sank into one surface and a table and chairs of wood and gla.s.s! This world had so much gla.s.s! No wonder the house was small, who could afford a large house when so much money was spent on the gla.s.s pieces? Quickly, he glanced through the cupboards. There were many odd things within, though he could recognise bowls and cups, they were made of thick porcelain, not like the delicate tea sets he knew. He did find a strange container that was clear like gla.s.s, but not cold and as firm as gla.s.s. It seemed to contain water, but he did not known how to open it. The lid was not like the cork of a bottle or lid of a pot. In the end, he sliced the top off with his sword, tasted and then gulped down the liquid contents within.

Sated, he continued to glance about the house. He dismissed the tiny room with the odd white seat and white bowl stuck to the wall and walked up the stairs. There were two rooms with beds and wooden things as well as another room with the odd seat and white bowl. This room also had something that he suspected was to hold water for a bath! A pity that there was not enough of the contained water to fill it! With a sigh, he stripped off his stained outer robe and crawled onto the larger of the beds. Briefly thinking that he should meditate come morning, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep slumber.