Don't Mess with That Deliveryman, His Zombie Bloodline Is Maxed Out

A taboo warning has been spreading through Huadu's supernatural circles: if you come across a food delivery rider in an alley at three in the morning, riding a yellow bike with a sickly-sweet, fishy smell wafting from his box, run. Don't look back.

Guan Yun feels terribly misunderstood.

He just wants to deliver food in peace and earn some pocket money, with the occasional stop at the blood bank for a bite to eat.

But people keep asking for trouble: the young master of Maoshan sends assassins after him, a painted-skin ghost wants to drain his yang energy, and the Zhuge family hires him to catch ghosts, then leaves him a bad review...

“Can I trade a five-star review for a bag of type O blood?” Guan Yun asks sincerely.

Then one night, Ma Xiaoling discovers that his fridge contains no food, only thirty-seven empty blood bags.

She slowly draws her demon-subduing staff. “Explain.”

Guan Yun silently takes off his name badge. Behind him, the phantom of Pangu appears as countless corpses bow in worship. “Actually... I'm on the level of your founding patriarch?”

Ma Xiaoling: “...Didn't you say last night that you were a useless Qi-Blood Realm cultivator?”

Guan Yun: “That was my persona. Food delivery riders need a persona, and so does a zombie king.”

[Reading guide: This book features plenty of classic scenes like “pretending to be weak, then face-slapping everyone,” “blood-bag fiction,” and “ghost girls want to seduce me, but I only love delivering food.” Best not read it late at night near a blood bank.]