Once its head was severed, the (Rotcorpse) truly died. Though people called these things "immortal" and "outside the cycle of reincarnation," that was just a figure of speech. If they were truly immortal, there'd be no point chasing gods and ascension—just let one bite you, and you'd live forever.
Liu Weian was so exhausted he could barely breathe, but he knew this wasn't the time to rest. He grabbed his chipped and battered machete and started gutting the corpse. Not out of sadism—he was searching for treasure.
Creatures in this world were strange. After death, a fleshy sac would form inside them—like a spider's egg sac. Cutting it open could reveal all kinds of loot: daggers, shoes, rings, necklaces. As unbelievable as it sounded, anyone who'd played video games would get the idea. It was like monsters dropping gear—except this wasn't a game. This was real life.
While alive, a Rotcorpse's flesh was rigid and hard to cut, but once dead, its power drained and the body became soft. Liu Weian easily sliced it open, revealing a fist-sized sac. His pale face lit up with joy.
Even though it wasn't his first time seeing a sac, it still thrilled him. Carefully, using just the tip of the blade, he pried it out. One slip could be deadly—Rotcorpse blood and flesh were laced with powerful toxins. A single drop could strip a man to bone. He had no desire to lose another chunk of flesh.
Oddly enough, the sac itself was immaculate—untainted despite being soaked in corrupted fluids. Qin Zhou, who had seen plenty by now, took out a small knife and cut it open. About a dozen copper coins spilled out.
Liu Weian's face fell. He hadn't expected much from low-level Rotcorpses—nothing like swords, manuals, or rare herbs—but the disappointment still stung. Still, sixteen copper coins weren't bad. Better than previous days. At least he could afford dinner tonight.
He repeated the process with the second corpse. This time, no coins or items—just a red bead, about the size of a pigeon egg, veined with faint lines and pulsing with strange energy. The moment Liu Weian saw it, his eyes widened and color returned to his cheeks. He almost stopped breathing.
A Corpse Core!
He'd targeted Rotcorpses for a reason: they were slow, big, and easy to hit. Much better odds than other creatures.
At first, he'd tried hunting roosters—three days and nights of battle, and the d*mn bird still lived. Liu ended up half-dead, only for someone else to swoop in and claim the kill. Next, he tried feral dogs. Within an hour, he'd lost nearly three pounds of flesh. He was only saved by a passing hunting party.
After that, he stopped going solo and joined a team. Grouping up helped—he at least made enough copper for meals. But good times didn't last. After a dispute over loot from a lynx, the team split. He couldn't find a new one.
In wild groups, loot arguments were common and dangerous. Organized teams didn't take strangers, and Liu had no connections. So he wandered for days—nothing. Finally, he decided to try his luck in the hills.
And luck found him. He stumbled upon a giant rat—massive, the size of a dog—fleeing with an arrow through its neck. It was nearly dead.
Someone else had clearly wounded it.
Liu made a snap decision—steal it. Before its pursuers arrived, he finished it off and looted a sharp dagger—the very one he now carried. Then he ran like hell, dragging rat meat with him.
He sold the meat for 38 copper coins and feasted that day.
That event cemented his decision: he would become an archer. He chose Rotcorpses as targets partly because the graveyard was quiet—less chance of getting "kill-stolen"—and partly because it was close to town, easier to return.
Wanting to understand Rotcorpses better, he spent 10 hard-earned copper coins to read for 10 minutes at the city's only bookstore. He tried to memorize everything. He didn't learn much, but one thing stood out: Corpse Cores.
Rare, like bezoars or gizzard stones, they formed under mysterious conditions and could be consumed. Eating one made you immune to corpse toxins.
Without hesitation, Liu swallowed it.
It looked like jade, but melted instantly in his mouth. A cooling sensation spread through his body. The fatigue vanished, clarity returned to his mind, and the oppressive corpse miasma lifted. Even his wounded thigh began to tingle—it was healing visibly, no longer suppressed by the toxins.
In this world, no matter how badly you were hurt, as long as you lived, you could heal.
He ignored the wound and cracked open the skulls of both corpses. From within, he retrieved two tiny white crystals—the distilled essence of a Rotcorpse, formed in the moment of death. Consuming one strengthened the body. He'd been afraid to harvest them before, fearing the splashing fluids.
Now he swallowed them both.
The crystals were tasteless and odorless, but their power surged through him. Muscles swelled slightly; strength rushed in like a flood. As a child, he'd been weak—barely able to lift a chicken. But after consuming his first crystal from the giant rat, he'd become average. Now, with this second dose, he felt his strength nearly double—he could probably punch with 200 pounds of force.
His leg wound had vanished completely.
Daylight faded. He didn't dare linger. He quickly scavenged the dead adventurers nearby—looted 28 coins, a bunch of rotting weapons, and one usable machete, though dented. The rest was junk. Still, 44 copper coins in a day? His best haul ever.
Just as he was about to leave, he looked at the Rotcorpse bodies and hesitated.
In this world, meat, wood, bones, even weeds could be sold. Could Rotcorpse meat be useful—for poison-making, perhaps?
Now immune to corpse toxins, Liu's mind raced with possibilities.
Three hours later, he returned to Stone City—really more of a village built around trade. It had only one pharmacy—unnamed, since it had no competition.
"Rotcorpse meat?" The assistant had never seen anyone bring that in. He fetched the shopkeeper.
The old man examined the corpses thoroughly, then said, "If the bodies were intact, I'd offer 3 gold. But the heads are smashed, bellies gutted, claws missing. I'll give 1 silver each."
That hurt—3 gold was 300 silver. But Liu didn't argue. This was the only buyer.
He agreed and sold the damaged machete next—just 11 copper. D*mn corpse fluids.
He found a quiet corner, sat down—and logged out.