Dark clouds obscured the moon.

The night was as black as ink.

Bianlang, holding a soul-capturing bell, traversed the wilderness.

Behind him followed six corpses, all dressed in white robes with talismans pasted on their foreheads, their steps perfectly synchronized.

The Corpse Transport Inn is just ahead.

There were still two hours until dawn, and even if he walked at lightning speed, he wouldn't be able to reach the next inn for transporting corpses before daybreak.

The reason I rushed all the way was so that I could get a good night's sleep while it was still dark.

Since arriving in this martial arts world, I've been forced by the Corpse Brother to become a corpse stitcher, and I've always traveled by night and slept by day.

The consequence of long-term disruption of the biological clock is physical weakness and yang deficiency, causing one's manhood to plummet. Unless one encounters a stunning beauty, one will inevitably lose virility.

The Corpse Brother is not human.

The Corpse Brother is a glass ball, and he is called a Corpse Driver.

The Corpse-Transporting Ball Association regularly issues corpse-transporting tasks. Completing them will earn you rewards, while failing will naturally result in penalties.

The rewards are varied, but the only punishment is abstinence from sex.

The number of days I had abstained from pornography had originally accumulated to three hundred years, but after all these years of effort, there are now less than three years left.

With victory in sight, we must proceed cautiously and steadily.

Having been involved in corpse-driving for nearly ten thousand years, one can abstain from women, but in dreams, one still thinks about them, estimating that occasionally getting close to them would be more beneficial to physical and mental health.

When he first came into this world, he was in a woman's bed.

However, that woman was ugly and fat, so even if he was desperate, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

The worst part is that the woman took a liking to him and refused to let him live no matter what.

Such an ugly woman, yet she was still a bandit's wife.

As soon as she lets out a roar, this whole gang of bandits will rush in and tear him to pieces.

At that time, Bian Lang naturally did not believe it. Before the woman could shout, he shouted that there was a lecherous ghost.

The woman was completely bewildered when the chieftain stormed in with a large knife, scaring Bian Lang so much that he wet the bed.

The chieftain was tall and imposing, with an extraordinary air about him, but he was also a lecherous man who always suspected his wife of having affairs with his brothers.

Bian Lang's shout caught him in the act of adultery. He immediately tied Bian Lang up and ordered the oil in the pot to be heated to boiling point, intending to throw Bian Lang into the oil.

Hanging above a large, steaming oil pot, Bian Lang was terrified, praying to the gods and Buddhas, and wishing he could go back to the moment when he had directly submitted to the chieftain's wife.

As the rope began to be lowered, a wave of heat hit Bianlang's face, burning hot.

When you're being deep-fried, you never put your head in first; you should put your feet in first so that the torture lasts longer.

Bian Lang kindly reminded him, but the chieftain simply wouldn't listen.

At the critical moment, a glass ball gleaming with a red light appeared before Bian Lang, claiming to be a corpse driver. It said that as long as Bian Lang was willing to sign an agreement, his life could be saved.

At this point, as long as he could save his life, Bian Lang would be overjoyed even if it meant becoming a gigolo.

The agreement given by the Corpse Brother was very long. Although it flashed quickly in front of Bian Lang's eyes, Bian Lang knew in his heart that by the time he finished reading it, his head would already be in a pot of boiling oil.

The moment the blood oath was sworn, Bian Lang vanished from above the oil cauldron.

Day turned to night, in the desolate wilderness, he held a bell in his hand, followed by four corpses.

He left, and the corpse left.

He stopped, and the corpse stopped.

If it weren't for the timely appearance of the Corpse Brother, who imparted a wealth of knowledge to him, he probably would have had a heart attack from fright.

The knowledge contained only a small portion of information about the world; the vast majority was theory about corpse transportation.

When Bian Lang arrived at the Corpse Transport Inn, his heart was still pounding.

Only when he sat down to rest did he carefully examine the agreement he had signed with the Corpse Brother.

The agreement was perfectly normal, with no problems whatsoever. It basically stated that the Corpse Brother would help Bian Lang save his life, and Bian Lang would help the Corpse Brother control the corpses. Successful control of the corpses would earn him a reward, while failure would result in a penalty.

In my previous life, as the chief legal counsel of a listed company, I frequently dealt with various contracts.

The agreement that Corpse Brother signed with him demonstrates a strong sense of contractual responsibility and is very fair.

But upon seeing the agreement's expiration date, Bian Lang felt that this Corpse Brother had no sense of contractual responsibility whatsoever; his long-winded rambling was pure nonsense.

Ninety thousand years.

Just to avoid being boiled in oil, you expect me to work for you for 90,000 years?

Can I live that long?

When this thought flashed through Bian Lang's mind, he suddenly felt at ease.

Anyway, life is short. Being a corpse driver for this lifetime is definitely more interesting than sitting in an office trying to find ways to falsify contracts.

The contract has already been signed, and it's too late to raise any questions now.

The government certainly has no jurisdiction over the "corpse brother".

Bian Lang repeatedly asked Corpse Brother for confirmation and confirmed that the agreement was valid for 90,000 years. He could only sigh inwardly.

I certainly won't remember anything from this life in my next life. Even if I'm a corpse driver for all eternity, it doesn't matter.

After successfully delivering the four corpses to their destination, the Corpse Brother generously rewarded Bian Lang with four hundred years of lifespan, which immediately unsettled Bian Lang.

Given this situation, he might actually have to work for the Corpse Brother for 90,000 years.

Even the most cunning capitalist wouldn't exploit workers like this; it's utterly inhumane and incredibly cruel.

Back to the present, I've been working under the Corpse Brother for almost ten thousand years.

On average, he can transport 60 corpses a year. In this way, he has handled nearly 600,000 corpses, which is a remarkable achievement.

During his long years of transporting corpses, he received all sorts of rewards from his fellow corpses, including delicious food, gold and silver jewelry, and even internal energy, but most of all, he received lifespan.

Without rewarding him with more lifespan, Bian Lang wouldn't be able to fulfill this agreement.

Here, Bian Lang has to complain about the Corpse Brother. When rewarding lifespan, the minimum lifespan a corpse receives is ten years, and the maximum is one hundred years.

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