Chapter Sixty-One: Negotiation

This zombie was simply too fat—flesh bulged on his arms and thighs in thick rolls, like a stack of Michelin tires. For now, let's call him Michelin.

Yang Hao quickly raised both hands to show he meant no harm.

“We’re here to discuss cooperation. If things work out, I guarantee you’ll all receive great benefits.”

“Benefits?... Are benefits tasty?” Michelin cocked his head, his face blank and dull. Clearly, his intelligence was nothing to boast about.

With that level of wit, he couldn’t possibly command a five-star zombie nest. Michelin was only a trusted enforcer, a brute-force shield, the equivalent of a tank in Lin Dong’s territory.

Yang Hao was momentarily taken aback, realizing the truth.

So he wasn’t the master of the five-star nest after all...

“Human, follow me,” rumbled Michelin in a deep voice. He then turned and lumbered forward, his entire body jiggling with every step.

Yang Hao and Xiao Zhang exchanged a glance and hurried to follow.

The whole way, both were nervous and on edge. Even though the zombie hadn’t shown any sign of aggression, his kind was unpredictable and violent—there was no telling if the next moment might bring a bloodthirsty attack.

Fortunately, they didn’t encounter any other zombies along the way.

But the air grew colder and more oppressive, and an acrid, bloody smell hung in their nostrils. There was something writhing in the trees by the street.

Yang Hao looked more closely—and gasped.

Thick, banded pythons, as thick as a man’s arm, coiled in the branches, flicking their tongues and baring razor-sharp fangs.

Just the sight of them made his skin crawl.

“So many snakes...” he muttered.

It wasn’t just one tree—almost every tree was the same. Fearful now, he simply turned his head away, preferring not to see.

He was shocked. For the very center of a five-star zombie nest to be infested with so many snakes—the corpse king here must have some bizarre power. He suspected, almost instinctively, that the ruler was a Wraith Zombie.

After a while, the two finally arrived before a building.

The glass doors were shattered, and several huge pythons coiled around the metal doorframe. Their bodies were as thick as a grown man’s waist, their heads as large as lanterns, their yellow eyes burning with menace.

The monstrous snakes reared up, sizing up their “guests,” tongues flicking as though ready to strike at any moment.

“Is this... a snake den?” Yang Hao shuddered, goosebumps rising all over.

Michelin, surprisingly, was still polite.

“Please, come in.”

Yang Hao’s face darkened with dread. Panic rising, he muttered under his breath, “Damn that boss... damn those capitalists...”

“Hao—Hao, are you scared?” Xiao Zhang’s voice trembled, hoping for some reassurance.

Gulp.

Yang Hao’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, steeling himself. “Scared of what? We’re already here. We have to go in—hold your head high! We’re the face of the company!”

“Oh...” Xiao Zhang wiped the cold sweat from his brow.

Together, they approached the entrance.

Thankfully, the massive pythons did not attack as they passed. They simply turned their heads, following the two with their gaze as they entered the lobby.

Whew—

Yang Hao was about to let out a breath of relief, but the moment he saw what lay inside, every hair on his body stood on end. He froze, the breath dying in his chest.

The entire lobby was crawling with snakes.

They writhed and coiled in dense knots, packed together so tightly it made his scalp tingle. The stench of blood and musk was nearly suffocating.

He nearly retched, barely managing to swallow it back.

Terror reached its peak. His body shook uncontrollably, and his bladder felt on the verge of giving out.

Xiao Zhang, desperate to get through, saw Yang Hao rooted to the spot and urged him on.

“Hao, please, hurry up!”

“Just... hold me up a bit...”

Xiao Zhang was speechless—of all the things in the world, I only support you.

Clinging to each other, they crept forward, careful not to step on the endless snakes. Their hearts hammered as though about to leap from their throats.

Yang Hao thought—apart from the boss’s tricks, this was the most harrowing ordeal of his life.

Time blurred, each second stretching into eternity. At last—

They crossed the snake pit and entered the inner hall.

A familiar zombie roar echoed around them. One terrifying face after another appeared from the shadows.

These were elite zombies—the king’s personal guard.

At their head sat a formidable figure. His skin was deathly pale, nearly ash white, with no sign of decay. His features were almost handsome, if not for the mass of black veins bulging around his eye sockets, creating a grotesque sight.

But what truly struck terror was his eyes.

His pupils were a sharp, vertical slit against a blazing yellow iris—the eyes of a serpent.

A chill raced down Yang Hao’s spine. He felt a sudden, scalding wetness—he had lost control of his bladder in fear.

“Your Majesty, this human is rather adorable,” remarked a woman beside the Serpent-Eyed Corpse King. Her upper body was human, but below the waist she was a bloated spider, her eight legs splayed across the floor, each as sharp as a steel blade. She was a zombie fused with a bird-eating spider.

The woman flicked out a long tongue, licking her lips as she studied the humans with keen interest.

Damn it! Yang Hao swore silently, not daring to move an inch.

At that moment, the Serpent-Eyed Corpse King spoke, his voice hoarse as rusty iron scraping together.

“Come, sit.”

“Uh, yes...” Yang Hao paused, trembling as he approached, quickly noticing that beneath the chair, more snakes were coiled.

Once again, he cursed inwardly—damn that boss, damn those capitalists.

Sending him to negotiate with a corpse king!

This was worse than death.

He forced himself to sit. Instantly, snakes coiled around his calves, as though ready to strike at any moment.

His mind went blank. Out of habit, he fished a cigarette from his pocket, but his hand was shaking so badly it took several tries to get it to his mouth.

His other hand, clutching the lighter, trembled so violently that he failed repeatedly to strike a flame.

Then the Serpent-Eyed Corpse King reached over, took the lighter, and with a single motion, sparked a flame.

“Th-thank you...” Yang Hao took a deep drag, the nicotine calming his nerves just a fraction.

“So, what do you want with me?” the Corpse King asked.

“I—we’re from Tech Corporation. Last time, a shipment of our reagents crashed in your territory, didn’t it?” Yang Hao began, probing for information.

The corpse king nodded, then his tone shifted.

“It did crash here. But... the Corpse King of the Tower claimed it. He killed one of my best men and over a thousand of my underlings.”

“What? Him again?” Yang Hao frowned, realizing the situation was not as he expected. “So the boss was wrong—turns out the bone wasn’t thrown to this dog after all...”

“What did you say?”

“Uh... nothing, nothing at all!” Yang Hao waved his hands, flustered—his nerves had made him blurt out the truth...