Ark Undead

Seeing that the Undead remained silent for a long time, Nasakaz's voice gradually faded. Then, as if he had done something wrong, he lowered his head and silently smoked.

The immortal thought for a long time before finally asking the question.

"your name."

"Greyhound, that's the code name."

Sarkaz, named Greyhound, had dark gray hair, and his clothes, which had been washed countless times and patched many times, along with his unkempt appearance, made him look like a poor stray dog ​​on the street.

The Undead have never seen a Rhodes Island operator whose codename is so similar to theirs.

"What's the position?"

The immortal continued to ask.

"One of Rhodes Island's operators stationed in Da Yan, she can be considered Rhodes Island's ambassador to the Shang Shu region."

Greyhound took a drag of his cigarette, tucked one leg into the stool, and the smoke slowly rose into the dim light of the room.

"You don't know my name or identity? Is there no record of me at headquarters? Are you just going to send me on a mission to Great Yan like this?"

Greyhound seemed to realize that the Undead knew nothing, not even his existence.

The Undead did indeed come halfway through when he suddenly thought that there might be Rhodes Island people in Shangshu, which was pretty much what Greyhound had said, but Greyhound was still wrong about one thing.

"No, I'm on a mission."

The Undead shook his head and put the card back into his body.

"I came out on my own."

"You came out on your own? Didn't Kal'tsit tell you not to come to Yan during this time, or are you originally from Yan?"

Greyhound turned around and looked at the Undead again. He looked at the Undead's Victorian-style clothes and said.

"Judging from your attire, you don't seem like someone who comes here to run their own business, especially not from Victoria's Secret's high-end brands?"

The Undead didn't tell Greyhound directly; he simply shook his head, denying Greyhound's conjecture.

Then, the immortal spoke.

"I need your help."

Upon hearing this, Greyhound's hand trembled slightly, then he scratched his head in distress and remained silent for a long time.

Greyhound finally spoke when he was almost finished smoking his cigarette.

"Brother, let me tell you the truth. No one from headquarters has come for so long, and they haven't contacted me at all. The connections I built up over the years have also disappeared. On the contrary, I'm drowning in debt. You saw it yourself, when you came to harass us, I thought it was a creditor coming to collect a debt."

He took another deep drag, drawing the cigarette down to just before the butt, then smashed it on the ground and stomped it out with his tattered shoes.

"Although I do have some abilities, not many, but enough. But these abilities are already quite remarkable for my own livelihood, and I really don't have time to help you right now."

He looked utterly miserable, and no one could tell whether what he said was true or false unless they died.

The immortal stared at him for a long time. He looked at his clothes and the fact that he hadn't bathed in a long time.

The immortal thought for a moment and then said.

"How much do you want?"

Greyhound paused for a moment, seemingly not expecting the Undead to be so direct. He hesitated for a moment, then immediately spoke.

"About 800,000 Lungmen Dollars."

It's only because he's an undead man that he doesn't have much of a concept of money, which is why he didn't react much. If it were any other Rhodes Island operator, they would have been terrified.

800,000 LMD is enough to cover the routine maintenance of Rhodes Island for several days. All the operators on the island would spend less than 10,000 a day on meals in the cafeteria.

What on earth did this person do to accumulate so much debt?!

But the immortal didn't think much of it, took a card out of his pocket and put it on the table.

"money."

Greyhound immediately grabbed the card from the table and, before he could even look at it, he started talking.

"They actually gave it to me?! Wow, that's awesome!"

But when he looked at the card under the light, he immediately realized something was wrong.

"The Bank of Casimir? Your background is a bit complicated. Victoria's clothing, the Bank of Casimir, or people from Rhodes Island?"

As he spoke, Greyhound quietly raised his head and quickly glanced at the Undead again, as if to confirm something.

Seeing the greyhound dawdling like that, the Undead simply asked a question.

"Don't want it? Give it to me."

"Yes, yes, yes! My good brother helped me wipe my butt, how could I possibly push your hand away!"

The greyhound immediately tucked the card into its coat with a grin, coughed, and then turned around affectionately.

"That... what dead brothers?"

"Immortal."

"Oh, Undead brother! You solved this problem for me today, so I have to help you out! Tell me, what do you want me to do? Murder, arson, or smoothing things over in the business world? Just tell me, and I can do it!"

Greyhound chatted with the Undead with a grin, as if the doubts and embarrassment just moments before were nothing but a dream.

The Undead shook his head; he wasn't interested in killing or setting fires, nor was he in business.

"I'll only ask one question."

"Hey! It's just one question. You can ask as many as you want, go ahead!"

Greyhound spoke very eloquently, appearing very confident and poised.

The Undead saw that the Greyhound seemed to have accepted his terms.

He spoke calmly.

"Emperor of Great Yan, Great Yan military, what happened?"

The atmosphere froze again at this moment.

Greyhound's unrestrained smile froze on his face again, and this second instance of a smile gave the Undead a sense of déjà vu.

The greyhound's cheerful smile quickly turned into a hint of bitterness, which then rapidly amplified.

"Why...why are you asking this? This is a bit difficult, can we try something else?"

Seeing the greyhound's appearance, the Undead nodded and spoke.

"Why is it necessary to select soldiers for the Southern Expeditionary Army?"

"..."

Greyhound scratched his head, then took out a cigarette from the pack, lit it, and put it in his mouth.

His face looked like he was crying.

"Hey Undead brothers, why are you asking these questions?"

I want to know.

The immortal didn't explain why, but simply added a sentence and pointed to the card in his hand.

"Password, do you want it?"

Greyhound held the card in his hand, he hesitated for a while, his grip tightening and loosening several times.

Then he took a deep drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaled.

“If you don’t tell me why you need to know these things, I won’t answer you, and I don’t want the money.”

Even as Greyhound said those words, he slowly sat up straight, his muscles tensing, ready to spring into action at any moment.

These subtle actions were naturally obvious to the undead, but the undead read other meanings into them.

"Get ready to make your move."

The moment the Undead uttered those words, the greyhound in front of him began to move.

His body moved as close as a ghost to the Undead, his hands reaching out towards the Undead's right chest, shoulder, and face, wanting to deliver a brutal blow to the Undead as soon as possible.

But how will he fight against the undead?

Even unarmed, an immortal can easily take down their enemies.

Before Greyhound could react, his arms were grabbed by the undead who had arrived first. Then, a tremendous force traveled up his arms, lifting his entire body up before slamming him heavily to the ground.

boom!

A crack appeared around the stone floor, and the greyhound couldn't help but cough up blood, his eyes filled with shock. But he quickly realized what he needed to do.

He used the bank card in the greyhound's hand as a razor blade, throwing it with a special technique towards the undead's face.

Without even blinking, the immortal turned his head and dodged the bank card.

The bank card was stuck into the wooden beam like a razor blade, demonstrating the exquisite force and technique used.

The Undead kicked the Greyhound in the head again, landing a solid kick to his side.

He then reached out, grabbed the greyhound by the neck, and lifted him up.

Greyhounds aren't very tall, but they're about 1.7 meters tall.

When the immortal lifted him up, his feet left the ground, his head was spinning, and blood was flowing down from the side of his head.

"You are not, Rhodes Island, an operator."

"Pah! You're not...!"

Even in his unconscious state, Greyhound spat out blood and foam from his mouth, his eyes fixed viciously on the Undead.

"A spy, huh? You think you can get intelligence from me just by making up a name? You really think you're some kind of knight just because you have a Kazimierz bank card?"

His current appearance is no longer one of dejection. Even though he was subdued by the undead and his life was in the hands of the undead, Greyhound remained unmoved, his aura revealing his sharp edge.

Seeing the gray dog's appearance, the Undead didn't rush to attack but instead asked a question.

"How do you know I'm not from Rhodes Island?"

"The Rhodes Island members who can enter Yan are all elite operators, but let's not talk about that. The Undead is an elite operator of Rhodes Island? You can figure out that's fake if you use your brain."

While cursing, Greyhound kept kicking the Undead's chest, trying to break free, but he couldn't move him at all.