The Witcher: Serpent School Witcher's Otherworldly Journey

The afterglow of the setting sun shattered into countless blood-red scales on the surface of the Ponta River, and Kiliam crouched in the shadow of the crooked willow tree.

The tree trunk was covered in parasitic fungi, emitting a musty smell, but he paid no attention to it. His distinctive vertical pupils, characteristic of a witcher, narrowed into two extremely thin black slits in the dim light, coldly gazing at the riverbank that was about to become a slaughterhouse.

The river was receding, revealing vast stretches of black, foul-smelling silt. Under the scorching sun, the silt cracked into countless irregular lines, resembling gaping, parched mouths. Three vultures stood atop a pile of discarded kitchen waste, scrambling for half a moldy loaf of bread and a few pork ribs still slivers of meat. Their cacophony pierced the empty riverbank.

This explains the unusually large number of water ghosts gathering downstream; there is simply too much food there.

Water ghosts are among the most repulsive products of the celestial bodies that came together. They eat anything: the corpses of drowned people, livestock that have wandered into the river, and even garbage dumped into the river.

The Pontal River, the largest artery in the North, not only nourished the human civilizations along its banks but also sustained these enormous parasitic swarms. Like a swarm of scaly locusts, they migrate along the waterways to any place rich in food. Once the swarm grows large enough, their diet naturally evolves from garbage and carrion to living humans, making them a major scourge to the North.

Water ghosts have slippery scales and fish-like dorsal fins. Their unique physiological structure makes them excellent swimmers. Once caught in the water, even experienced witchers will not fare well.

But on land, it's a different story.

Although water ghosts have a fish-like form, their intelligence is not necessarily comparable to that of fish. Their heads, which are about the size of a human, are mostly filled with water, and the part that is actually the brain is very small.

However, if you crush buckthorn and smear it on a bright red apple, the disgusting smell that it emits, like rotten mud, will attract those water ghosts that like to eat corpses.

He didn't need to be a fool and jump into the river to hunt them; all he needed was a little hunting skill.

Kiliam planned to hunt enough water ghosts during this time, and then go to find the witcher and sorcerer at night when they were having a deep conversation.

Hmph... This is sure to be a very interesting segment.

With a slight squeeze of his large, calloused hands, he crushed the stem of the buckthorn. A pungent, suffocating stench erupted instantly—a mixture of dead fish, rotten mud, and stale marsh gas. A bluish-purple juice dripped down the lines of his leather gloves onto the apple's surface. The apple's once sweet flesh, upon contact with the juice, reacted as if corroded by some strong acid, immediately churning up a bubbly, marsh-gas-like foam and rapidly turning black.

This modified bait formula can simulate the putrid smell of a drowning victim whose lungs rupture after three days in water within thirty seconds.

To humans, this is a repulsive evil. But to water monsters, it is the sweetest perfume in the world, the call of their mother, and the ultimate delicacy. This obsession with rotting flesh is etched into their genes, just like the dark green warts on their dorsal fins—a mark of recognition for their kind and terrifying proof of their cannibalistic nature.

As the tip of the dagger spun and pierced the rotting flesh, Kilyam suddenly remembered his mentor's teachings: "The bait should be like a lover's kiss, deadly yet alluring."

The old witcher's calloused fingers had corrected his movements seven times until he could pinpoint the bullseye with his eyes closed. The apple chunks, now embedded in the mud, were arranged in five corners, resembling a pentagram magic circle—the optimal trapping area calculated by the snake-training witchers skilled in traps.

If those superstitious farmers in the North saw this, they'd probably scream that mutants were casting dark magic to curse them. Even if you were helping them rid them of a menace, they'd still spit on you behind your back.

Fortunately, the area had already been cleared out by the Temurian army, except for these water ghosts who like to hide in the river.

The effects of the buckthorn were even better than expected.

Just minutes later, as the Pontal River began to glow eerily in the fading twilight, the first prey appeared.

Three grayish-white claws with sharp nails clung to the moss-covered rocks on the shore.

The water ghost slowly poked its head out. Its skin was an unhealthy, deathly gray, and its joints were covered with moss-like scales. Kiliam squinted. It was a typical characteristic of a nascent water ghost; the webbed membrane between its middle and ring fingers was not yet fully keratinized, making it look somewhat immature.

Of course, this has absolutely nothing to do with cuteness.

However, old witchers often say that if you see a water ghost by the river, at least the entire swarm is lurking underwater. Kiriam just chuckled at this; if water ghosts really could reproduce that easily, he wouldn't mind opening a water ghost farm, as warlocks still have a considerable demand for water ghost materials.

He might live even more comfortably than the mining tycoons of Covell, since the Water Ghost has an inexhaustible supply of minerals in the North.

As Kiriam drifted into thought, hordes of water ghosts were soon drawn by the stench and gathered in increasingly larger areas.

The presence of patrolling troops made it difficult for them to hunt lone travelers on land, leaving them in a state of extreme hunger. Human flesh had always been the best part of their menu, full of salt and fat, far more delicious than dead fish with only bones.

The monsters were already eager to find the "feast" that had been lingering in their sense of smell.

As the eighth water ghost hunched over and crawled ashore, Kiliam had already gripped the hilt of his sword behind his back. The distinctive buzzing sound of the silver sword being drawn was perfectly masked by the sound of the waves, and the wave patterns formed during the quenching of the blade gleamed coldly in the twilight.

Giliam didn't coat his silver sword with ghoul oil; the materials needed to make it weren't much less than the bounty for killing a water ghost. Most people, including nobles, wouldn't understand how difficult it was for a witcher to obtain materials. Unless facing a swamp witch, he wouldn't need a second strike with his silver sword against these water ghosts.

When he threw a piece of the remaining apple into the middle of a rock covered with barnacles, the entire riverbank suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

Eight pairs of pupil-less, cloudy, milky-white eyes, like boiled egg whites, simultaneously turned towards the bait. The water ghosts made gurgling sounds like frogs croaking in their throats, and the bony spikes between their fingers scraped lightly against the pebbles, producing a teeth-grinding sound.

Kiliam's nostrils twitched slightly. The heavy stench of the water ghosts, mixed with the fishy smell of freshwater algae, indicated that these monsters had not eaten fresh flesh for at least two days. They must be quite ferocious when facing him.

That's right. Anger makes them faster, but also dumber.