Wizard: I Have a World of the Dead

Skull 2 ​​was the first to be deployed.

The tall, elite skeleton took a step forward, its heavy footsteps landing on the ground with a muffled "thud."

It gripped the two-handed greatsword with both hands, the blade leaving a cold trail in the firelight, and charged straight into the midst of the oncoming Asdok people.

Before the burly Asdok man at the forefront could even swing his sword, the greatsword swept across him—

"puff--!"

The blade pierced the man's abdomen and emerged from the other side, almost severing him in half. Blood gushed out, splattering onto Skull No. 2's plate armor and sliding down the gleaming scales.

The Asdok man's upper body flew several steps away, and his lower body lurched forward two more steps before crashing to the ground.

One sword, one man.

The remaining four Asdokians paused in their tracks.

Skeletons, devoid of martial virtue, wouldn't care whether they were stunned or not.

Skull 1 charged in from the side, its rusty sword piercing the ribs of an Asdok man, all the way to the hilt.

The man screamed and swung his sword backhand, striking Number 1's shoulder—"Clang!" Sparks flew as the curved blade left a shallow scratch on the plate armor, but it couldn't pierce the layer of steel at all.

Number 1 seemed oblivious, drew his sword, and plunged it into the man's throat once more.

The flail of Skull No. 3 whistled down, and the spiked iron ball slammed into the head of an Asdok man.

"Crack—" The sound of the skull shattering was particularly crisp in the night. The man didn't even have time to scream before he collapsed to the ground.

Skull 5 followed silently behind, its rusty sword piercing the back of an Asdok man who was trying to retreat, and emerging from his chest.

The man looked down at the sword tip protruding from his chest, mouthfuls of blood and foam gushing from his mouth, and then fell silent.

Less than thirty seconds.

Of the six people, five have fallen.

The last Asdok man stood amidst the corpses, trembling all over.

He looked at the "monsters" clad in gleaming plate armor, silent as iron, and then at his comrades still convulsing on the ground, his face drained of all color.

Then he suddenly grabbed a bull horn from his waist and brought it to his mouth.

"Ugh—!"

The deep, long horn sound tore through the silence of the night, echoing through the mountains and forests.

In the distance, behind a wooden fence halfway up the mountain, came a cacophony of sounds. Shouts, footsteps, and the clanging of metal grew closer and louder.

Lin Qi raised his head and looked down into the night towards the mountainside.

The firelight flickered, and countless figures were pouring down from the mountainside.

He didn't move.

He didn't even frown.

He simply raised his hand and gently waved it forward.

"continue."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a large number of Asdok people poured out from above the mountain path.

They charged down the hillside, torches in hand and scimitars in hand, howling like wild beasts. At a glance, there were at least twenty of them.

The Asdok man who had been blowing the horn saw the reinforcements and a glimmer of hope flashed in his eyes. He turned to run, but was cleaved in two from behind by Skull Number 2's sword and fell to the ground, never to rise again.

"Kill those tin men!"

More than twenty Asdokians swarmed down and surrounded the five skeletons.

The scimitars rained down, striking the plate armor.

"Clang!" "Clang!" "Clang!"

Sparks flew everywhere, and the crisp clanging of metal against metal was like a dense rain. The scimitars left white marks on the steel plate armor, but they couldn't pierce through that layer of hard steel at all.

The skeletons stood motionless amidst the flashing swords, the flames in their eye sockets flickering coldly.

But the Asdok people did not panic.

They quickly turned their attack on the "tin men's" weak point—their joints.

An Asdok man ducked to avoid Skull 1's sword, but the scimitar struck him hard in the back of the knee.

"Clang!" Sparks flew up, the armor plate deformed slightly, but it still didn't split open.

But the Asdok man did not give up. He stared intently at the crack and slashed at the same spot again.

Skull 1 paused slightly.

Another Asdok seized the opportunity to circle behind it and slashed at the seam of its neck armor plates. The blade got stuck in the gap, and with a twist, he plunged it directly into its neck.

However, the expected scene of blood gushing out did not occur. Skull 1 simply turned around and pierced his chest with a sword.

The Asdok man never understood it until his death—he had clearly hit the tin man, so why was he still able to move?

Blood is flowing.

The Asdok people kept falling. Three, five, eight—

But they also discovered something even more terrifying.

The tin men's joints were clearly slashed, and they should have been injured, but no blood flowed out.

There were no screams, no staggering, and not even any reaction.

They were like a group of iron puppets who knew no pain or fear, simply reaping lives one by one with their swords.

An Asdok man was struck in the shoulder by Skull No. 2's greatsword, and flew sideways, crashing into a tree trunk before sliding down, blood gushing from his mouth.

He stared wide-eyed as the tall tin man turned around and charged at another of his companions.

"What...what are these things...?"

A small but agile Asdok man stared at Skull 3, and taking advantage of a moment when it swung its flail, he pounced and grabbed it by the back.

He wrapped his legs around Skull 3's waist, clung tightly to its helmet with both hands, and forcefully lifted it upwards.

Skull 3 swayed, but didn't stop. It continued swinging its flail, smashing it towards another enemy in front of it.

The Asdok man gritted his teeth, mustered all his strength, and with a sudden jerk—

"Click".

The helmet came off and rolled to the ground.

The firelight illuminated the true face beneath the helmet.

A pale white skull.

There was no flesh or blood, no skin, only bare bones and two eerie green flames in the eye sockets.

The flame flickered in the darkness, like a will-o'-the-wisp lit from the depths of hell, staring coldly at him.

The Asdok man holding Skull Number 3 froze.

His hands were still in the position of lifting his helmet, but his body seemed to have all its strength drained away.

His pupils contracted sharply, and his mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Then, a heart-wrenching scream exploded from his throat:

"Evil—evil witch—!"

He let go, rolled off Skull 3's back, and crawled backward on all fours, his face contorted with terror.

"An evil sorcerer!"

"It's an evil sorcerer!"

"The dead! It's the dead!"

Other Asdokians also saw it.

In the firelight, beneath the gleaming plate armor and helmets, stark white bones were exposed. Eerie green flames flickered in their eye sockets, while crimson flames burned within the elite skeletons' eye sockets.

They stood amidst the corpses, their armor plates splattered with blood, yet their faces remained expressionless, for they had no faces at all.

Some people's legs gave way and they collapsed to the ground.

Some people threw away their scimitars and ran away.

Some people knelt down, chanting their tribe's incantations, their bodies trembling like leaves.

"The undead..."

"It's the deceased..."

"They crawled out of hell..."

Lin Qi stood not far away, coldly watching all of this.

He raised his hand and waved it forward.

"Leave no one alive."

......

Meanwhile, below the mountain stronghold.

The torchlight flickered through the woods, and hurried footsteps shattered the silence of the night.

More than twenty trainee knights were hurrying along the mountain road, their steps hurried and their breathing heavy.

In the middle of the group, there was an unfamiliar figure.

That was a knight.

He was around fifty years old, his temples were already gray, but his back was ramrod straight.

Gaelic Knight.

The old knight's loyalty was beyond question. Upon returning from the hunt and receiving a message from Wallenberg, he immediately donned his armor, gathered his squire, and rushed to Wallenberg.

However, after many twists and turns, when he finally arrived at the riverside forest and reunited with the apprentice knights, he learned news that shocked and angered him—

Lynch has already gone up the mountain alone!

Garen's face was contorted with rage: "Twenty-seven men, twenty-seven swords, watching your own lord charge into a bandit's den alone. Are the swords in your hands just firewood?"

The trainee knights remained silent after being scolded, none of them daring to raise their heads.

Knight Garen's rage intensified: "If anything happens to the young master, not one of you will escape with your heads!"

The mountain path is not long.

But with each step he took, Gail's brow furrowed even more deeply.

A faint smell of blood wafted through the air. At first, it was so faint that he thought it was his imagination. But the higher he went, the stronger the smell became, so strong that it was pungent and made him feel nauseous.

He gripped the hilt of his sword.

Then, they rushed out of the last patch of bushes.

Suddenly, everything became clear.

Next second,

Everyone was stunned and stood there.