Dark Wizard: Rise! My undead army!

A cold glint flashed in Lynn's eyes.

He raised his right hand, his five fingers loosely clenched.

The man's body stiffened abruptly as he was pulled in front of Lynn by an invisible force, suspending him in mid-air.

His face turned red, and something was choking him, making it hard for him to breathe.

"How dare you deceive even me." Lynn's voice was calm, but it startled everyone.

The elements within the man's body surged continuously, his legs kicked wildly in the air, and his hands gripped his neck as if trying to pry open that invisible hand.

But the disparity in strength was too great, and it was ultimately futile.

"My lord... I didn't lie to you... I really did see it... on the rocky beach of the Northern Region..."

Lynn raised his left hand.

A faint blue light shone from his fingertips, condensing into the tip of a needle.

The needle pierced the man's brow, penetrating his soul.

The man's body suddenly arched, his mouth opened, and he let out a scream.

The sound didn't come from the throat; it was a "soul scream" squeezed out from the depths of the soul.

Sharp, piercing, sending a chill down everyone's spine.

Those around were startled by the "soul's scream" and took a few steps back.

Some people covered their ears, some turned away and dared not look, and some had their legs go weak and had to hold onto the stone wall next to them to avoid falling.

The old man stood at the front, his wooden cane planted firmly on the ground. He didn't back down, but his fingers were clenched tightly on the cane.

Lynn's left fingertip lit up again.

Another needle pierced through, and the man's screams grew even louder.

His body convulsed in the air, his limbs flailed wildly, and tears and snot streamed down his face.

"My lord... I was wrong... I shouldn't have lied to you... Please forgive me..."

The man's voice was broken and intermittent, as if it were being forced out while someone was choking him.

Lynn didn't stop and inserted the third needle.

The man's screams changed; they stopped. His eyes rolled back, and white foam dripped from the corner of his mouth.

His soul began to crumble under the piercing of those needles, like a torn piece of paper, fragments drifting out from the cracks, turning into grayish-white mist, and dissipating into the air.

Some people in the crowd were so frightened by the scene that they knelt down, while those who were standing lowered their heads, unable to look.

In this place without "rules," whoever has the biggest fist is the biggest rule and can decide life and death for others!

The man's screams stopped, and his body stopped convulsing.

Lynn released his grip, and his body fell to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The soul has scattered; nothing remains.

Lynn withdrew his hand, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. No one dared to look up; everyone was silent as if trembling with fear.

He sighed; it seemed he wouldn't get any more information out of him.

I hoped to find clues here, saving myself from aimless searching.

Unfortunately, I didn't get any useful information; I just encountered a clueless scammer.

He turned around, intending to leave, but the old man's voice suddenly came from behind him.

"Go north from Graystone Town, there is a ferry crossing where a ferryman specializes in ferrying the souls of the dead across the river."

"He's been drifting on the River Styx for hundreds of years, and he's seen more people and spirits than everyone in Graystone Town combined. Go find him; he might know where the child is."

Lynn nodded slightly to the old man.

Thank you.

After saying that, Lynn turned and walked out of the town, heading north.

The old man lowered his head, looked at the corpse on the ground, and sighed.

The town's already small population has dwindled even further.

The old man turned and walked back to the stone pillar, sat down, and propped his wooden cane on the ground without moving. The people in the gathering dispersed, and the doors closed one by one.

Greystone Town returned to silence, as if nothing had happened.

...

Lynn walked half an hourglass in the direction the old man pointed out.

The gray-white wasteland stretched into the distance beneath his feet, with more and more pebbles on the ground, becoming increasingly dense.

Tiny specks of light floated in the air; these were fragments of memory from the ghostly aura, clinging to his skin.

These fragments of memory drifted out of the River Styx; they were extremely chaotic, one-sided, and of no value.

At this moment, a body of water appeared ahead.

The river was wide, and the opposite bank could not be seen.

The river water was a thick, grayish-white fluid that flowed slowly, with mist floating on its surface and countless points of light dancing within it.

This is the River Styx.

Lynn stood on the shore and initiated the analysis.

[Target: River Styx]

[Composition: A fluid formed from the condensation of forgotten souls, carrying memories forgotten over countless years]

[Characteristic: The river itself is a single, continuous entity.]

[Note: The River Styx is a conceptual term.]

...

Lynn withdrew his analysis and pondered the information on the panel.

He wasn't surprised by the composition of the River Styx, but the fact that "the River Styx is a whole" puzzled him.

What puzzled him even more was the note that "the River Styx is a concept".

What does this mean?

Could it be that the River Styx is not a material thing, but a vague and abstract existence?

Lynn crouched down and put his hand into the river.

The river water was icy cold, a kind of cold that could freeze one's soul. If an ordinary person were to put their hand in, their soul would probably be frozen solid.

The river water flowed through his fingers without resistance, like passing through air.

He couldn't feel the weight of the water, the temperature of the water, or the existence of the water.

When I pulled my hand back, the water on my hand dried instantly, leaving no trace.

It's truly a conceptual thing, leaving no trace.

However, Lynn could sense that this River Styx was a good thing; if the dead were to soak in it for a short time, they could absorb fragments of memories and enhance their spirituality.

I wonder if we can bring it into the goblin world and replace the seawater near the Island of the Dead with the River Styx. That way, the undead can soak in it from time to time and become a little smarter.

If successful, the undead on the island will grow and advance much faster.

Lynn stood up and activated the Stigmata Domain.

Grayish-white light surged from his palm, spread out, and transformed into a projection of the goblin world, which fell onto the surface of the River Styx.

The edge of the projection touched the River Styx, but the River Styx remained completely still, its waters flowing slowly in the same direction and at the same speed.

The edge of the projection swept across the surface of the River Styx, like a knife cutting through the water, the water being cut open and then closing again.

Styx refused his invitation.

Lynn withdrew the projection, a realization dawning on him.

The River Styx is a whole, a single concept.

It belongs to no world, nor is it contained by any world. Wherever it is, that is the River Styx.

To try to move it would be to redefine the River Styx.

He can't do it, at least not now.

He stared at the grayish-white surface of the water and remained silent for a few moments.

As expected of a river that can support the entire underworld, it is indeed extraordinary.

At that moment, the mist on the river surface began to move.

The mist parted from the middle to both sides, revealing a narrow waterway.

There is a boat on the waterway.

The boat was small, made of wood, with a raised bow. An old man in a gray robe stood there, holding a long pole.

His face was covered by a hood, making his features unclear. He was very thin, and his robe hung loosely on a clothes rack.

As the boat drew closer, the old man's face emerged from under his hood.

He had grayish-white pupils, a high nose, thin lips, and a pointed chin. His face was wrinkle-free, and his age was hard to guess.

Clearly, he is the "ferryman" of this river.

Sensing the old man's aura, which was one with the River Styx, Lynn immediately sent him an analysis.