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CHAPTER 17
🕑 Added 2025-04-30 09:58:02 +0000 UTC“The Journey to the Holy Mountain… What’s that?”
In the private cabin of the steam train, Aisha tilted her head in curiosity at what Zuo Teng was scribbling on a piece of paper.
“A script.”
“A script? Are you writing a play?”
“Not exactly. It’s for a magic movie.”
Zuo Teng would write a few lines, then pause for ages. Writing a magic movie script was way harder than those kiddie comics. Even with the general plot in mind, actually turning it into a full script made his dragon brain ache.
“So… you’re going to film a stage play with a camera?” Aisha thought back to the theater performances she’d seen. Didn’t seem like something that would fit inside a magic crystal.
“No stage. We’ll film it all on location.”
“Like real life?”
“Exactly like real life.”
Journey to the Holy Mountain was, of course, a reimagining of Train to Busan.
The original told the story of a father taking his daughter to see her mother in Busan—until a zombie outbreak throws their entire journey into chaos. Trapped on a train, they fight for survival alongside strangers.
It was one of the better zombie flicks out there. Yeah, the plot was formulaic, but the formula worked. It made people cry buckets.
And most importantly, the people of Twin Spire City had never seen a commercial genre film before.
It was bound to blow their minds.
On Earth, it took years for zombie movies to gain mainstream acceptance. But here? No need for buildup. This world actually had zombies. Necromancers outnumbered illusionists by a good margin.
Still, there were details to tweak.
The most critical? Change the origin of the zombie outbreak. Instead of a biotech company leak, it would be Kuhlmann’s Alchemy Factory, tied to a necromancer conspiracy.
Never underestimate the power of media. Remember how that one throwaway line in Crazy Stone messed up the brand image of "Benny Road" for years?
Plus, there were alternative healing potions on the market—they just cost more than the mass-produced ones. If Kuhlmann’s reputation tanked, customers would naturally look elsewhere.
Next, the power-scaling problem.
Let’s face it, zombie movies always hit a snag: why does the military suck so badly in every single one? Logically, zombies should be cannon fodder against armed forces—maybe a little chaos early on, then boom, all wiped out by superior firepower.
In this world, the issue was even worse. High-level adventurers were basically walking Gundams. Even newbies were at least Resident Evil protagonists. Who’d be scared of zombies?
So how to make it work?
Simple—the stronger the adventurer, the more they’ve used healing potions… and the more likely they’ve been infected. All the heavy-hitters? Already zombified. Only normies left.
And why wasn’t the train full of zombies from the start? Easy: professionals teleport. Regular folks ride the train.
The Holy Mountain, being a sacred church site, used its own healing methods, untouched by the factory’s potions. Add in a magical construct barricade, and boom—that’s your final act fortress.
Genius. This dragon is a genius.
Now, the next step: smear Kuhlmann’s factory as hard as possible.
The protagonist’s role changed from a hedge fund manager to a potion ingredient supplier. He realizes the potions are fishy, but hides the truth for profit.
The script’s biggest villain—the selfish, self-preserving corporate type—gets rewritten as one of the factory managers who collaborates with necromancers for money.
Then they’d film a fast-cut sequence showing the process from potion brewing to zombification, Requiem for a Dream style. The goal? Hammer it into people’s heads that healing potion = poison.
Only one dilemma left: whether to change the original ending.
In the original, after all the heartbreak, the pregnant woman and little girl are rescued by the military. Bittersweet, but comforting.
But back when the movie was released, there had been fan rumors of an alternate ending—the military shoots them, mistaking them for infected. It hit hard. But if Zuo Teng filmed that, the church might come knocking.
Maybe a compromise: an open ending. The final shot freezes on a construct discovering the survivors, waiting for orders.
Live or die? Let the audience decide. Controversial, sure. But the buzz would be off the charts.
He needed buzz.
“Why?!” Aisha was sobbing, clutching the draft script. “That’s it? That’s really the end?! What happens to them?!”
“Uh, yeah… that is the end.”
“The end?! How is that an end?!” she looked betrayed. No play, no story she’d ever seen ended like this—especially not with the main characters’ fate left hanging right at the climax.
“It’s just a story,” Zuo Teng said, voice full of philosophical calm. “Endings don’t always need to be spelled out. Sometimes, ambiguity is a kind of beauty.”
But inside, he was thrilled. That reaction? Exactly what he wanted.
And this was just from words. Text had limits—it left room for imagination, not instant emotional payoff.
Once Journey to the Holy Mountain was finished—with visuals and sound layered in? He could already see it: mass hysteria, internet debates, conspiracy theories flying.
People arguing over whether the ending was hopeful or hopeless would only draw more people in.
And the perfect scapegoat? Kuhlmann’s Potion Factory.
Don’t overestimate the rationality of the crowd. Even if they knew the film was fiction, anger would blur the lines. They’d project it all onto the real factory.
Would Kuhlmann survive the fallout?
Hopefully not.
Heh heh heh…
“All train cars have been documented,” Yuno announced, stepping into the cabin alongside a tall figure wrapped head to toe in cloaks.
A very dead figure. Their trusty undead cinematographer.
Today’s job was to film the train and the station—capture every detail possible.
They couldn’t use a real train for the full movie, obviously. He’d need to recreate the set from scratch. Ideally, a perfect 1:1 replica.
Even if they had an illusionist conjure up the backgrounds, they’d still need something to reference.
Luckily, the railway system was brand new. The rules were full of loopholes—no security checks, no ID verification, no species restrictions. Zuo Teng and his undead cameraman got onboard with zero hassle.
“Whoooo—!”
The steam whistle echoed across the plains.
They were now within the bounds of the Holy Mountain.
“Whoa!” Aisha and her older brother eagerly leaned out the window, eyes wide at the sight of the brilliant blue peaks in the distance.
The Holy Mountain—no extra adjectives needed. The one and only mountain blessed with sainthood across the continent. Sacred church ground. Top tourist destination.
Zuo Teng, however, wasn’t impressed. He’d been here before. Last time he accidentally burned down a temple and ended up cursed for weeks.
Worse yet, the place still reeked of that Eleven-Ring Scroll-like aura. Just sniffing it gave him psychic nosebleeds.
He’d rather go back to debugging his game, If You're an Evil Dragon, Dive 100 Floors.
Phase Two of his minigame project.
Right now, his evil dragon was stuck on a spike at the top of the screen and completely immobile. Must be some kind of bug…?
Before he could sort out the runes, the screen glitched out entirely.
What the—?
He tried restarting it. Nothing.
His instincts screamed Holy Mountain-related interference.
What was this place, a temple or a productivity prison? Did they install anti-magic Wi-Fi jammers to stop people from slacking off on sacred time?
