Chapter 38: Happy Halloween, Grundy

"Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday!"

Was Solomon Grundy actually born on a Monday? No one knew.

The only thing Ma Zhaodi could be certain of was that he had died in the nineteenth century—1894, to be precise. A century had passed since his corpse was discarded in the swamp. Now, this monster had risen from the muck, undead, but bearing a new name.

"Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday!"

He sang that nursery rhyme he had heard as a child, identifying himself as the Solomon Grundy from the story, for it was the only name he could recall from the few fragmented memories he had left.

His pale, bluish skin was like that of a cadaver, and his tattered, rotting clothes emitted a foul stench. Powerful, corded muscles bulged, with thick veins pulsing across them. His grim, square face held a natural, ferocious malice—a terrifying living dead had descended upon the world.

Watching the nearly three-meter-tall behemoth charging through the sewers, Ma Zhaodi’s heart began to hammer against his ribs. The half-ton monster’s run carried the terrifying momentum of a speeding truck, and its target was none other than Ma Zhaodi himself.

"Stumbling, I run toward you~"

The familiar melody played involuntarily in Ma Zhaodi’s mind.

"Damn it, now is not the time for a soundtrack!"

He immediately began frantically searching the store. When he found "Rapid Life Regeneration," he immediately targeted Solomon.

"My apologies, but the target's biological state is highly unique. Rapid Life Regeneration can only restore it to a normal state for a limited time. The effective duration for the current target is twenty-four hours. Confirm purchase?"

Are you kidding me? Twenty-four hours for ten thousand asset points? Why don't you just rob me?

And if "restored to a normal state" refers to his corpse-like state, how is he supposed to eat a burger? Am I supposed to force-feed a corpse?

Ma Zhaodi had to find another way. The creature possessed superhuman strength, stamina, and an indestructible, undead body that could heal rapidly—perhaps even super-soldier level or beyond, but to Ma Zhaodi, it made no difference.

Either way, one punch meant death.

"What do I do? Is there anything that can control Solomon, or anything that can make him abandon his hostility toward me?"

Solomon’s footsteps grew closer. His massive frame gave him a long stride, resulting in a surprisingly fast speed in a straight line. Within seconds, he had charged into the light of the jack-o'-lantern.

"Dammit, hurry up! Hurry up!"

Ma Zhaodi frantically scrolled through the search results until a product caught his eye, and his eyes lit up.

"Halloween Pumpkin Head
Price: $200
Note: Trick or treat!
Note 2: This product is suitable for all ages. Children can wear it to ask for candy; adults can wear it to demand candy from children.
Note 3: Adults? Pure scum!
Special Effect: You can use a self-made pumpkin to purchase this service. Carving quality provides a bonus to the product's effectiveness."

Ma Zhaodi clicked purchase immediately. The pumpkin mask he had previously tucked into the system inventory suddenly flashed with a brilliant light. Items bought from the system store could be stored, and since this pumpkin was bought from the system—even if he had carved it himself—it was apparently still recognized as a system item because it was ugly enough, allowing it to be stored directly.

After Ma Zhaodi bought the "Halloween Pumpkin Head," the item’s name changed instantly.

When he first bought it, it was just "Pumpkin." After he carved it, it became "Ugly Pumpkin Mask." Now, it was named "Sanity-Draining Ugly Pumpkin Mask."

The word "ugly" was clearly here to stay.

Solomon Grundy had been charging at the intruder, but just as he was about to collide, he saw the figure turn its head.

No, that wasn't a head. It was a hideous, terrifying pumpkin monster, grinning with a ghostly, wicked smile at the charging Grundy.

The man carrying the pumpkin had no features, not even a head—only empty, hollow cavities where eyes, nose, and mouth should be. Eerie light emanated from the holes, staring straight at Grundy.

The features seemed alive, shifting into various expressions. The massive pumpkin mouth split into a wide grin, and the round eyes squinted, as if mocking Grundy for falling into a trap.

"No head! No head! Pumpkin man!"

Grundy slammed on the brakes. His memory was almost entirely gone, and his intellect had drained away with it; he had the mind of a child. He didn't understand good or bad, but by the same token, he was hard to reason with using logic—yet today, his luck was terrible.

Because he had run into a real piece of work who knew exactly how to bully a child.

"Grundy! Grundy! Solomon Grundy!"

The pumpkin man's voice was ghastly and terrifying, just like the monsters in fairy tales that ate children. It walked toward Grundy step by step, the light of the jack-o'-lantern it held turning a ghostly, cold green, as if burning with hellfire.

"Born on a Monday, christened on Tuesday!"

"No, no! Grundy no! Pumpkin man stay away!"

"Married on Wednesday, took ill on Thursday!"

The voice grew louder, almost deafening. Terror filled the giant's heart. He watched Ma Zhaodi walk toward him, unhurried and steady. His eyes widened, his entire body trembling, and he turned to flee, his limbs stiff with fear.

"Growing worse on Friday, died on Saturday!"

Thump, thump, thump. The giant turned his back on the terrifying pumpkin man and began to sprint, wanting only to escape the eerie green light and the monster chanting his name.

"Buried on Sunday, that's the end of Solomon Grundy!"

"Solomon Grundy! Buried on Sunday, that's the end of Solomon Grundy!"

"No—!"

"Bang!"

Fear made his already zombie-like legs even stiffer. Grundy tripped and fell to the ground. When he looked back, the pumpkin man with the lantern was already standing before him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and curled into a ball, but the expected bloody maw of the pumpkin head never came.

"Huh?"

When he opened his eyes, he saw the pumpkin man simply place a bag on the ground. The bag emitted an alluring scent, better than any rat or garbage he had ever eaten.

"Solomon Grundy, Happy Halloween."