Steve Chapter 875: Jiangshi (Patreon)

“Why’d you go quiet?”

Seeing Fang Mo rubbing his forehead with a complicated expression, Integra pushed up her glasses and sneered, “Hmph, guess I hit the mark, huh?”

“Well…”

Glancing at Integra’s confident look, Fang Mo couldn’t help feeling a bit awkward. Because, truth be told, all the “evidence” she’d laid out did fit some aspects of his situation perfectly. It was almost convincing enough that he couldn’t bear to shatter her conclusion outright.

Bear in mind, less than a day had passed. Integra and Walter must have worked pretty hard to dig up any intel on him. After all, that’s the life of a “director”: dealing with investigations into Fang Mo’s background, cleaning up the messes he leaves behind, suffering migraines from his shenanigans, and so on. They have to manage all these headaches meticulously.

Come to think of it, Fang Mo actually felt a little sorry for them. In Integra, he saw echoes of Nick Fury from the old days: both heads of major Western agencies, both dealing with a bunch of unbelievably eccentric “monsters,” and both sporting a fairly short temper—though Nick might still be a bit sharper in some ways.

“Mmm…”

Having thought it through, Fang Mo decided there was no point denying it. With a shrug, he nodded in admission, “Didn’t expect you guys to sniff me out so soon.”

“Huh? What’s that all about?”

The policewoman blinked in confusion, watching Fang Mo openly admit something.

“Yes! My true identity really is a jiangshi.”

Fang Mo puffed out his chest. “And just as you said, I’m the most fearsome, unstoppable one of the bunch. My real name… is Wang Zhaosheng!”

“Ha! So I was right all along.”

Integra smirked, quite pleased with herself.

“Um, Master…”

Hearing that, the policewoman looked even more perplexed. She turned to Alucard. “What’s a jiangshi? Is that like a ghoul? Is Mr. Two-He—er, Mr. Wang not the same species as us?”

“Kukuku…”

Alucard just chuckled. “Could be. Who knows?”

“A jiangshi is born of all the world’s accumulated resentments. Ageless, immortal, indestructible… drifting beyond the six realms, wandering between the three worlds!” Fang Mo explained enthusiastically once he heard her confusion. “I was in deep slumber, but some accident woke me up.”

“You were awakened by someone too?”
Integra couldn’t help glancing at Alucard from the corner of her eye. Alucard himself was once defeated by her ancestor, Van Helsing, then reawakened by her. “Were you sealed away? Who broke that seal?”

“It was…”

Fang Mo noted Integra’s reaction but forced himself to stay solemn. “...The coming storm.”

“What?”

“In other words, war,” he said, looking theatrically philosophical. “The world teetered on the brink of chaos—global war was about to erupt. That imminent storm roused me, the jiangshi king who’d slept for centuries. In truth, I should thank those Nazi creeps. If not for the rancor and dread of war, I’d still be sleeping.”

“Ah… so you woke yourself,”

Integra muttered grimly, pausing to think. “Then why’d you come to Britain? Shouldn’t you be roaming the East?”

“Because I’m a patriot!”

Fang Mo declared, slashing his hand through the air. “A long time ago, I met a worthy opponent, and I vowed I’d only bite foreigners after that!”

“You piece of—!”

Integra nearly lost her temper on the spot.

“What, not happy about it?”

Fang Mo arched an eyebrow, then rattled off eight countries in a single breath: “You Brits are just one batch among many: America, Germany, France, Japan, Italy…”

He sneered:

“I’m gonna bite all of you—and fill your lands with cannabis!”

He spoke in a haughty, vicious tone:

“Oh, you ignorant, arrogant invaders—open your eyes and bear witness to this land in flames! Behold the Nala Clan’s curse unfolding!”

“I…”

Integra snapped the cigar between her fingers with a loud crunch, practically trembling with anger.

“Hoho?”

Alucard, on the other hand, seemed amused by Fang Mo’s tirade. “So… you’ve also met a truly respectable opponent before?”

“But of course.”

Fang Mo nodded proudly. “Look at any era—there are always humans who dare face the darkest horrors. That is when the stars of humanity shine brightest.”

“Ohoho, indeed.”

Alucard perked up, clearly intrigued. “That’s what true humanity looks like.”

“Right?”

Fang Mo grinned.

“So what’s your enemy’s name?” Alucard pressed, curious. “Must’ve been a remarkable figure if you admire them so much.”

“You can call him… Lin Zhengying.”

Fang Mo paused and then answered. “Honestly, he had a huge influence on me. I’ve always respected him a lot.”

“Lin Zhengying… good name.”

Alucard smiled thoughtfully, remembering the human—Van Helsing—who once killed him. He did admire humans. In his mind, only a true human could ever rightfully kill a monster.

Whereas a monster killing another monster? That just births an even stronger monster.

“Van Helsing on your side wasn’t half-bad either,” Fang Mo retorted with a laugh. “And you can’t forget the neighboring Zeppeli family, too.”

“The Zeppeli family?”

Alucard cocked his head curiously.

“They’re monster hunters as well, with unwavering ‘golden spirits.’ I love their family motto.” Fang Mo rubbed his chin, trying to recall: “It goes something like: ‘Man’s triumph is the triumph of courage! Humanity’s greatness is the greatness of courage!’”

“That… that’s…”

Alucard looked genuinely surprised.

“Awesome, right?”

Fang Mo teased.

“Indeed—magnificent!”

Alucard nodded, delight shining in his eyes. “Ah, yes. Humanity truly is extraordinary…”

“Totally. I adore humans as well.”

Fang Mo nodded along. Then he remembered he was currently playing a jiangshi, so he added, “Gotta have humans in every meal.”

“Um, Miss Integra?”

While Fang Mo and Alucard were enthusiastically bonding over their bizarre conversation, the policewoman quietly sidled up to Integra. “What… what do we do now?”

“Let me think…”

Integra pressed her fingers to her temple, massaging away an oncoming migraine. Having “confirmed” Fang Mo was a jiangshi, she fully realized the kind of hellish problem she’d stumbled into.

Based on what he’d said—and the bits of Eastern mysticism she’d managed to verify—she had zero doubt that he was an unbelievably powerful undead. And she already knew how monstrous a progenitor-level being could be (her own Alucard proved that well enough).

But right now, tangling with Fang Mo would be disastrous. Yes, Alucard might manage to fight him to a standstill, but that’d cause unimaginable damage to Britain—especially with the current vampire outbreaks happening everywhere.

Which meant every decision had to be carefully considered. That said, the situation wasn’t entirely hopeless. At least now it was clear Fang Mo wasn’t the one behind the widespread low-tier vampires. He hadn’t shown any direct malice yet, and he’d even gone on missions alongside Alucard. So for the time being, it might be best to keep him placated.

Integra’s gaze sharpened. Yep, picking a fight now was out of the question. Even though Fang Mo was ranting about biting foreigners and planting weed, that seemed more like a quirk of his personality. From what she’d seen, he loved to provoke people into raging. As long as he didn’t cross any horrifying line, maybe it was better to just play along for now. Minimize the chance of an all-out battle.

And if she were being honest, her knowledge of Eastern lore was painfully limited. She’d found a few references in a short time, but getting a real handle on Chinese folklore would take far more research. So, for now, she had no reason not to believe his claim of being “Wang Zhaosheng, the Zombie King.” Any Eastern native would know a drought demon (“hanba”) and “jiangshi” are two different things entirely, but to Integra, it sounded plausible.

“All right, that’s enough for tonight,”
she finally said with a heavy sigh. “Our mission’s done here. Let’s go.”

“That’s it? But I haven’t finished off Anderson yet,”

Fang Mo muttered, glancing down at the courtyard. “Wait—where’d he go?!”

Sure enough, the courtyard was empty. The giant crater was still there, but Father Anderson had vanished, replaced by a scattering of golden scripture pages.

“Probably some sort of teleportation spell,”
Alucard guessed, shooting the courtyard a glance. “The Church does have that kind of power.”

“So he got away, huh…”

Fang Mo scratched his head in mild surprise, but he didn’t dwell on it. “Oh well, I’ll get my revenge next time. Let’s go.”

“There’s a helicopter outside waiting.”

Integra breathed a silent sigh of relief. Britain’s government really couldn’t afford to offend the Vatican anymore, not on top of dealing with a sudden rash of new vampires—and now this insane “Zombie King.” Starting a feud with the Church? She didn’t even want to imagine the consequences.

“Phew…”

The policewoman also exhaled, relieved there wasn’t going to be any more conflict.

With that, there was nothing left to do here. Integra had already wrapped up negotiations with the local police, and the group returned to their chopper, heading back to Hellsing’s headquarters in London.

Of course, “headquarters” was now a smoking ruin—thanks to Fang Mo and Alucard wrecking the place. Fortunately, the Hellsing family had heavily reinforced the basement to securely contain a Vampire King, so that subterranean level was still intact, giving them at least a place to crash for the night.

After a whole evening of chaos, Integra and the policewoman were understandably wiped out. Everyone went to rest in what rooms were still available. Fang Mo also picked a random spot to bunk down. Rather than sleep right away, he tinkered with a newly forged sword, “Cotton Moon,” crafted with adamantine and acid-resistant aluminum, giving it a cute, pastel-pink vibe. Checking its abilities satisfied him enough to finally turn in.

Nothing else happened overnight, and soon it was morning.

Since Fang Mo hadn’t eaten much since arriving in this dimension, he woke up with a rumble in his stomach, kicking open the basement door and making his way across the ruined grounds to what was left of the kitchen.

When he got there, he spotted Walter busy with something at the stove, while the policewoman stood nearby clutching her belly, eyes locked hungrily on the cooking pot.

“What’re you guys up to?”

Curious, Fang Mo walked over to take a peek. He found some brownish… substance simmering in the pot. It looked pretty questionable.

“Boiled sardines and lamb-mince sausages,”
Walter explained as soon as he spotted Fang Mo. “Miss Seras said she was hungry and wanted something to eat.”

Apparently, it was nearly done. Walter speared a small piece of sausage with a fork, chopped it up, and passed it to Seras for a taste, glancing at Fang Mo. “Would you like some as well, Mr. Fang Mo?”

“I’ll pass…”

Before Fang Mo could finish declining, Seras—who’d just popped it into her mouth—clapped a hand over her face with a retching sound. She looked like she’d just swallowed something truly foul.

Fang Mo: “…”

Walter: “…”

“Ahem.”

Walter cleared his throat. “I did warn Miss Seras that undead creatures can’t stomach normal human food… but she insisted on trying.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

Fang Mo couldn’t help rolling his eyes. He physically nudged Walter aside. “Step aside. I’m cooking today.”

With that, he donned a spare apron. Strolling up to the half-ruined stove, he inhaled and centered himself. Suddenly, his demeanor shifted into something more refined and focused. You could almost imagine the faint strains of “Faded” playing in the background.

“Now then…”

Fang Mo turned with a smile, looking at the policewoman. “Tell Uncle Jiangshi—what do you feel like eating today?”