The Pursuit

On the outskirts of Serene City's northern district, traffic enforcement officers waved cars to the roadside, directing both large and small vehicles over for inspections. Large trucks were being checked for overloading, while small vehicles faced routine alcohol tests.

Chandler, sitting in his car, pulled over alongside the other vehicles and rolled down his window.

"Could you please blow into this?" the officer asked, holding a breathalyzer.

Chandler blew into it, and after a few beeps, the machine indicated: "You've been drinking."

Stunned, he stammered, "I haven't had a drop…"

The officer raised the device again. "Could you blow one more time, please?"

Once again, the reading was the same.

"I swear, I didn't drink," Chandler insisted.

"Sir, please turn off the engine and step out of the vehicle."

Chandler pushed up his glasses and scanned the officers around him, noting their stances and the individuals in the distance. He sighed inwardly, 'I don't know how they caught up this early, but I guess they haven't found out everything yet.'

He knew the process well as a rideshare driver: he'd be made to wait for ten to twenty minutes and would have to blow a couple more times. If the result remained the same, he'd be taken to a hospital for a blood test. There was no way he could go through with that—not the blood test, not the waiting.

Looking up with a faint smile, he spoke politely, "I told you, I haven't been drinking. I drive for a living, from sunset to now, making an honest wage. How could I afford to drink and drive? You're out here working this late, checking for DUIs at this hour—it must be exhausting. I hope you finish up quickly so you can get some rest."

As Chandler's calm words sank in, the officers around him inexplicably began to think, He's got a point, 'He's telling the truth; he couldn't possibly be drinking on the job. We shouldn't be holding him up like this. Besides, it's past midnight, and anyone who's been drinking would be asleep by now.'

One of the officers stowed the device and gave a slight nod. "Apologies for the trouble, sir. Please drive safely."

"Thank you," Chandler said, nodding as he drove away. As soon as his window was up, the faint smile on his face vanished.

Somewhere along the line, he had become a visible target.

But it didn't matter anymore; he'd only come by to ensure everything was progressing smoothly and to observe Harry up close.

He still hadn't figured out what had strung up that dark figure outside Harry's building in such a brutal, symbolic manner, but it had to be connected to Harry somehow.

His phone buzzed. One of his subordinates' voices came through, "Boss, we picked up the package."

"Good. Once you've got it, get out of Serene City."

With that, Chandler hung up and drove west.

———

Watching the corpse disappear into the distance, Harry quickly helped Vin to his feet and called Victor.

"Victor, the wooden mask got taken by a black dog—it ran off into the fields in front of the funeral home. The corpse managed to evolve once and has gone after it. Can you track it?"

"I'll try." Victor was still talking when he heard a report in his earpiece. The officers had tried to detain Chandler under the pretense of a DUI, just enough to delay him for a blood test.

But somehow, after just a few words from Chandler, they'd inexplicably let him go.

Victor was now certain Chandler was suspicious.

Checking his GPS, he saw that Chandler's car was already some distance away, heading out of the city. He gave Harry a brief update, and Harry filled him in on the situation.

"He's trying to escape."

"I see that."

"I have an idea. Can you make sure that corpse follows him?"

"That's… against protocol…" Victor hesitated.

"You know how strong that corpse is. It's evolved once already, even with a talisman sword piercing its heart, instead of dying, it just burned the sword up and evolved further. Can you be sure you have enough force at hand to take it down? The best option is to let it fulfill its obsession and end things there."

Victor fell silent, calculating his options. The corpse had survived a fatal blow from Vin's talisman sword, something his current resources couldn't handle. And if they couldn't kill it outright, every failed attempt would only make it stronger.

"I'll relay the request. We'll try to end this before dawn."

Harry hung up and helped Vin into his truck. Just as the engine roared to life, Director Keitj approached, handing Harry a blood-red jade talisman.

"Take this for protection. Any expenses will be reimbursed. Don't take risks; your safety comes first."

Harry took the talisman, feeling a comforting warmth flow through his body, dispelling the chill of the night.

Vin glanced over, eyeing the talisman with envy. "Your director is generous. That blood-warming jade is rare; I had to hunt down at least ten petty demons to earn one from the Division."

"How many have you caught so far?"

"This year? Just three, and one barely even counted."

Just then, Harry's phone pinged as Victor shared a location with him.

———

A few kilometers from the funeral home, along a secluded rural road, a man in a mask and baseball cap blew a whistle.

In the nearby cornfield, a sound echoed, drawing closer.

A black dog with half its face corroded by corpse venom, flesh mangled and raw, burst out, carrying the wooden mask in its jaws.

The masked man quickly set down a metal case. The dog dropped the mask inside and, as if understanding, nudged the lid shut before padding over to the man, tail wagging.

"Good boy, Blackie," he praised, pulling out a slab of raw meat. The dog devoured it, bones crunching, until every last scrap was gone. As it swallowed, the decayed parts of its face began to heal.

Then the dog's ears perked up, and it growled, eyes fixed on the cornfield.

Thud… thud…

A heavy, rhythmic sound approached, growing louder with each step.

Out from the cornfield leapt the corpse, clad in dark blue burial robes, face frozen in a hollow gaze, arms outstretched. Every leap covered several meters.

Realizing something was wrong, the masked man quickly packed up and ran to his car, glancing back just in time to see the corpse's head rising above the corn.

Seeing those empty eyes fixed in his direction, the man felt a chill down his spine. He floored the gas, but the car barely moved before the corpse crashed against its front, sending it spinning sideways.

The black dog lunged at the corpse, aiming for its neck with bared fangs, teeth crunching down. But the corpse barely flinched.

With a single thrust, it drove its arms into the dog's body, spraying blood as it tore through. The dog clamped down, stubbornly holding its grip

GRRR...

Moments later, the dog's body collapsed into a lifeless husk, dropping at the corpse's feet. As the wounds on its neck sealed, the corpse's ashen skin took on a sickly sheen.

The creature turned its empty gaze toward the man's direction, muttering, "I must… help… my son…"

With one leap, it covered ten meters, homing in on its prey.

The masked man, now fleeing at full speed, dialed Chandler's number.

"Boss, Blackie's dead. Your father's corpse is right behind me. I… I won't make it…" His voice trailed off as a hand suddenly burst through his chest. He gasped, blood flooding his lungs.

Slowly, he turned his head and found himself face-to-face with the empty, expressionless stare of the corpse, its gaze devoid of any malice—just emptiness.

It continued muttering, "I must… help… my son…"