Ark Undead

This is why Melantha insisted on calling the Undead "Teacher".

Because the Undead is indeed teaching her a special combat technique, she is now almost able to defeat her fencing teacher's students, and only a month has passed since she began learning from the Undead.

"You, go back."

The Undead issued an order to leave.

"Ok."

Melantha stood up from the floor and dusted herself off.

She glanced at the cake still placed next to the undead and couldn't help but speak.

"Mr. Undead, remember to eat the cake when you have time, or it will spoil."

The immortal didn't speak, as if he hadn't heard.

But Melantha knew that the Undead had definitely heard her, he just didn't want to speak.

Without saying another word, Melantha slung her small satchel over her shoulder, bowed obediently to the undead behind her, and quietly left the undead's house.

After Melantha closed the door, it took quite a while before the Undead turned around and glanced at the cake box next to him.

He took off his helmet and gauntlets, placed them in front of the campfire, and picked up the box of cakes with his grayish-white, withered, almost demonic hands.

His eyes, sunken deep in their sockets, had become almost completely black, as dark as a darkness devoid of any light, his murky gaze fixed on the cake in his hand.

He had no memory of this kind of cake, so he didn't know what it tasted like.

The Undead used a small knife placed next to the cake to cut a small piece of cake.

After pausing for a while, the Undead used his finger to gently poke into the cream on the surface of the separated piece of cake.

The cream had a slightly slippery texture.

He opened his lips, which were so dry they resembled tree bark, and chewed the small cake in his mouth with his seemingly rotten teeth.

The white cream left marks on his somewhat blackened lips, making him look inexplicably eerie.

It's slippery and soft, and you can easily bite into it. But unsurprisingly, it still has no flavor.

He actually knew that he couldn't smell or taste anything.

After eating a piece of cake, the Undead put down the rest of the cake, wiped the cream off his hands with the black robe covering his body, and put his helmet and gauntlets back on.

"The cake has no flavor."

That's how the conclusion was drawn that cream cakes have no flavor.

I'll bring it to Hannah tonight. Melanie loves cake, and a girl like Hannah should like it too. At least she won't end up like me, unable to taste anything.

Thinking this, the Undead closed the cake lid.

6. Oversleeping isn't necessarily a bad thing.

In fact, the Undying Man is perfectly aware of the fact that he cannot taste anything.

From the day he became immortal, he lost his sense of smell and taste.

During the long journey, I did not retain any memories related to food.

Except for two things.

He remembered that it was a soup made by someone, and another thing was... a drink? Or something else?

He couldn't remember who that person was anymore. But he still remembered the pot of golden soup and the beverage or wine in the small wooden bucket.

In short, eating is a complete waste of time for the undead.

Apart from any recovery items that need to be ingested, there is no need to eat anything else.

Place the cake box a little away from the campfire to prevent the high temperature from causing any problems with the cake. No one died, so he came back and sat down.

There was still a long time before the night Hannah mentioned, so the Undead decided to stay by the warm campfire.

Actually, it's not necessarily true that campfires are that important to the undead.

Undead can survive away from campfires, but this has become a habit for them.

Such a campfire can bring a strange sense of security to the undead.

It sounds strange, but as long as you stay near the campfire, no one feels there is any danger, or rather, no danger is a problem.

As soon as you get close to the campfire, you feel relaxed and can let go of all your burdens and just sit and rest.

If one day the immortal can regain his memories, he might understand why this happened, but until then...

Stay by the campfire; it's much safer than wandering around outside.

He used to occasionally go out for a stroll, either to pick a fight with Hannah and Vina, or to actively seek out work.

But lately, I've become increasingly reluctant to go out.

A day passes quickly for him, and sometimes he falls asleep for no apparent reason.

Like an old cat, it likes to doze off by the fireplace, occasionally wagging its tail and changing its posture.

Time flew by, and apart from squatting by the campfire in a daze, there was nothing else for the undead to do.

When the immortal opened his eyes, no sunlight was shining in through the window.

The undead sat up from the ground, stretched, and the armor on his body made a slightly rusty clanging sound with each subtle movement.

What time is it already?

The immortal stood up and went to the window, where he saw a bright, clear moon in the sky.

"..."

He seemed to realize that he had broken his promise?

The undead came to the campfire, picked out a few pieces of firewood from the pile, threw them into the fire, and then picked up the rusty katana from the ground.

He casually tucked the scabbard next to him onto his belt. The scabbard had been loosened and loosened by the Undead so that it could barely accommodate the rusty katana.

After putting the katana back into its sheath, the Undead thought for a moment, then took two more pieces of firewood from the woodpile and threw them into the fire.

Okay, that way even if he doesn't come back all night, the campfire won't go out.

He picked up the black robe that was lying carelessly on the ground and used it to cover his armor.

The immortal opened the door and gradually walked from the silence into the bustling street.

-

It's urgent, Hannah is in a real hurry.

Logically speaking, Mr. Wandering Soul should have arrived an hour ago.

Even the rivals arrived a few minutes ago, but Mr. Wandering Soul was still nowhere to be seen.

Could he be asleep?

Hannah immediately dismissed the idea. How could a powerful figure like Mr. Wandering Soul forget the time of his hiring?

It must be because of the weapon or armor, right?

Thinking this, Hannah couldn't help but look at the street that had been cleared out.

The entire street was deserted, except for the flickering lights outside the police cordon in the distance, where the night market was still bustling before nightfall.

Now, people from my neighborhood have arrived and are standing in front of me.

This is the message Hannah received. At this time, Vina was not in the lower city, and Morgan had gone with Vina, leaving Hannah alone to guard the area.

It's likely that the other side also received this message, which is why they specifically chose this time to launch an attack on Glasgow Gang's territory.

In reality, what they call territory is actually land that these gangs have seized through violence, and it's the land where they can conduct certain special businesses.

Very traditional.

The man in the lead was holding an iron rod.

He was followed by dozens of people who looked like him.

They carried sharp or blunt weapons and wore very tattered clothes.

His exposed skin had several scars, more or less, making it clear that he was no ordinary thug.

Hannah was followed by dozens of Glasgow gang members.

Hannah gripped the brass knuckles tightly, unsure when the other party planned to make their move.

Just as Hannah was waiting for the Undead, the man leading the group spoke up.

"Who are you waiting for?" the man asked, the scar across his right eye twitching. "I heard your leader is called Vina? Where is she?"

"None of your business. Even without our boss, we can still take you down," Hannah scoffed, speaking with bravado. "But where did you come from? Don't you know this is Glasgow Gang territory?"

“There are many secrets in Victoria, why not treat this as a secret as well?” The man glanced at the gang members behind Vina several times, then chuckled. “So, thugs are still thugs no matter what, still using the same rules of fighting for territory.”

Hannah sensed something was off about his tone. He didn't seem to be involved in organized crime.

Alarm bells were ringing in her mind. This fight was already a bit strange. Not long after Vina left, someone came to her door saying they were going to attack the Glasgow Gang tonight.

At the time, I thought that the gangs that were suppressed in other corners had heard that Vina had left and thought that Hannah was an easy target.

Now it seems that it wasn't what Hannah thought; it was just a regular gang fight.

Is this targeting Vina?

“I’ve never heard of anyone like you in Victoria’s Lower Town,” Hannah said tentatively. “Could it be that the adults in the Upper Town are also interested in coming down to the Lower Town to play with us?”

The man gave a cold laugh.

"Hmph, let's handle things in the lower city using the methods of the lower city, and stop dragging the upper city into it."

Hannah was taken aback; she had indeed guessed correctly.

It's a pity Morgan isn't here. If he were, he might have already pieced together the background of this strange group of people with just a few words!

"I'm too lazy to waste any more time with you guys."

The man raised the iron bar in his hand and pointed it at Hannah in front of him.

"Before dawn, the Glasgow Gang will not..."