Chapter 274 Profane Steel and Corrupted Flesh

Ash Valley was massive.

Xia Nan had already learned this from Village Chief Clapham before his arrival.

However, because it was covered in gray rocks and monotonous terrain, very few villagers ever had the idle time to explore deep into it, even during the safe periods before the Axe Beak flocks appeared.

Right now, it seemed like he had been following the Adventurer Squad for quite a while.

But because the team ahead had to stay alert for potential enemies, their pace had grown increasingly sluggish. They probably hadn't even covered half the valley.

As they ventured deeper, the fog filling the air grew visibly thicker.

Although it lacked magic particles, it was very similar to the environment inside the Misty Forest.

Compared to the forest, once this seemingly natural fog reached a certain threshold of density, it took on a disorienting effect.

Xia Nan observed it very carefully. The pale gray fog permeating every corner of his vision not only slowed and muffled the transmission of sound, but also seemed to possess a slight ability to distort one's sense of direction and distance.

If it were an ordinary person, no matter how good their sense of direction usually was, walking a few laps in here would leave them completely lost.

It was only because his Perception was outstanding that he could handle it with ease.

Even the Adventurers up ahead were walking much slower than when they had first entered the valley.

Coincidentally, this dynamic turned the fog into a natural camouflage for Xia Nan.

He didn't need to trail far behind like before; even if he stepped a bit closer, his slightly clumsy stealth skills wouldn't be discovered by them at all.

"Laluf, why is this damn place like the Misty Forest? Gorg can't even see the path anymore," the half-orc Gorg muttered as he walked at the very front of the team.

As the squad's frontline "meat shield" and a "consumable" in the eyes of Captain Marcus, walking at the very front to scout the path in such a dangerous environment had long become his habit.

It wasn't as if no one in his tribe had objected to this, but truthfully, the only way a Class Holder-level Adventurer Squad would accept such a bad-tempered, foolish, highly irritable, and unstable teammate was through an arrangement like this.

This was the fate of the vast majority of half-orcs who were unwilling to live a life of poverty in the prairie tribes.

Perhaps in some unlikely future, once Gorg developed a habit of saving money or experienced a boost in intelligence, he would choose to leave this dangerous lifestyle behind and find a new way to live.

But for now, he could only carefully trudge forward under the commands of the humans behind him, heading in a direction he had no feeling for whatsoever.

Within the team, those with relatively outstanding Perception were Captain "Bloodedge" Marcus and the Ranger archer, Ciri.

The former stayed close behind Gorg to point out the way for the half-orc; the latter was protected in the middle of the formation, fully focused on keeping an eye out for potential dangers nearby.

As for the mountain dwarf named "Stonebelly," he walked at the very rear of the squad, carrying his double-bladed greataxe on his back, its end practically dragging on the ground.

He looked a bit antsy.

After Marcus determined that an ancient ruin might be hidden within this valley, the dwarf's spirits had noticeably lifted.

If he weren't worried about enemies hiding in the fog, he probably would have licked every inch of the ground clean starting from the entrance of Ash Valley, refusing to let a single copper coin slip by.

Right now, however, he could only stare at the dense fog on both sides, his greedy, gleaming eyes darting about in agonizing anticipation.

And just as he was mentally agonizing over what was possibly the fifth high-quality enchanted item he had missed in the fog...

The longbow in the Ranger's hands ahead—which had been gently bobbing with her movements—suddenly went still.

A cold light flashed before his eyes as an arrow tipped with black feathers was instantly nocked onto the bowstring.

"What's the situation?" he asked, hastily gripping the handle of his greataxe and hurrying forward to the two at the front of the squad after realizing something was wrong.

"Shh!" Captain Marcus answered with an exceptionally grave, warning glare, while the half-orc Gorg lay face-down on the ground, his back stiff and motionless.

Following their line of sight, what entered his vision was a small, narrow square that gave off a suffocating feeling.

Yes, a cramped square.

Most of the time, those two words didn't belong together, but in Stonebelly's eyes right now, they were the perfect way to describe the clearing ahead.

First of all, it was undeniably a square. The texture of masonry faintly revealed beneath a layer of stone dust and the open area large enough to hold hundreds of people were right there in front of them.

In the center of the square, there was even a small, dried-up fountain pool.

At the same time, however, the clearing was surrounded by a dense cluster of buildings.

Towers, houses, and even a small Church... They had either collapsed to the point where only a few ruined walls remained, or they were shrouded in fog, revealing only blurry silhouettes.

As if designed with absolutely no planning, these ruined structures were violently crammed together in an extremely dense manner.

Cluttered and chaotic.

Massive stone blocks, splintered wooden beams, twisted metal supports... The construction debris leaned against and supported each other like the carcasses of giant beasts, piling up around the square to form a ring of ruined, precarious high walls.

Even the masonry roads between the buildings that should have led deeper into Ash Valley were squeezed into narrow alleys by the ruins on both sides.

The sky obscured by gray fog and stone dust, the looming ruined walls threatening to fall, the shadows silently creeping across the ground, and the mournful wind howling through the dead air as it twisted among the broken remains...

All of this made this small square look like the corpse of a dead town whose throat had been strangled.

Everywhere they looked was filled with an aura of suffocation and decay.

The eerie, abrupt environment was only one aspect.

The real reason the Bloodedge Squad had stopped was the massive, twisted figure in the center of the square—a sight that instilled fear with a single glance, constructed of profane steel and corrupted flesh.

A knight.

A fully armed knight in heavy armor.

Perhaps in life, he had made outstanding contributions for himself, his lord, and the commoners in his territory, earning this expensive and sturdy suit of armor through his stellar service. He might have been a great figure that countless people at the bottom looked up to in awe.

But now, he had been reduced to a corpse.

A completely deformed corpse that was utterly unrecognizable from its original appearance.

The knight's plate armor—a symbol of honor and loyalty—had been forcibly stretched open in its distortion. Like a moldy, swelling ball of dough, layers upon layers of pale rotting flesh squeezed out from the gaps in the iron plates, coated in a sickly, nauseating dark yellow grease.

The armor, deeply embedded into the folds of flesh and barely held together by chains and burst rivets, looked like the segments of a maggot wrapped around that massive, greasy, and hideous body.

Its layered, obese abdomen hung almost to the ground, the rotting flesh covered in purplish-blue veins rippling like waves and emitting a foul stench.

The fountain pool that once provided refreshing water for the townsfolk had now become this rotting corpse's pale throne, crushed and shattered beneath grease and rusted iron.

Stonebelly couldn't estimate the corpse's exact size, but even sitting in the pool like this, it was still a head taller than the half-orc, the most burly member of their squad.

If it stood upright, its height would probably approach three meters.

It was absolutely not something he—or anyone else in the squad—could easily handle.

Fortunately, the thing was already dead, so they didn't have to fight it.

What the Bloodedge Squad really needed to watch out for were the six dried corpses scattered across the square in unsettling poses—some kneeling, some standing upright, and some leaning against things.

Their attire differed from the dried corpse whose skull the half-orc had previously smashed. Some wore simple leather armor like soldiers, some wore nothing but linen shirts like ordinary townsfolk, and some were completely naked.

What they all shared, however, were their shriveled bodies—seemingly frail and weak, but actually incredibly tough and boasting extremely high physical resistance.

"What do we do? Should we force our way through?" the mountain dwarf Stonebelly asked their captain, glancing at the small path on the other side of the square that led deeper into Ash Valley.

Marcus pondered. Before he could reply, the half-orc Gorg, who had been lying stiffly on the ground this entire time, spoke up in a muffled, tiny voice that none of them had ever heard from him before, "Gorg doesn't want to go first."

The orcish blood flowing through his veins might have made him dull-witted and quick to anger, but it also granted him a perception of danger far exceeding that of an ordinary person.

His beastly eyes stared straight at the massive, bloated fleshy body in the center of the distant square. The vigilance and repulsion that instinctively surged in his heart at the scent of danger made the half-orc's fingers, which were pressed tightly against the ground, tremble.

Clearly, this half-orc who had always been impulsive, irritable, and oblivious to the concept of fear... was terrified.

Marcus was equally tense.

Based on the combat strength of the previous dried corpse, taking care of the six in the square wouldn't be exactly easy for an Adventurer Squad where every member was a Class Holder, but it wouldn't cause too much trouble either.

What truly made him wary was that massive, obese knight slumped in the fountain pool.

Having already concluded that this was a ruined relic left behind by a necromancer, how could he be certain that the thing was actually completely dead and wouldn't suddenly get up and attack them as they passed by?

But since they had already come this far, returning empty-handed was out of the question; let alone himself, his teammates likely wouldn't agree to it either.

Coveting the potential treasures deep within the ruins, Marcus's eyes flickered. After a moment of thought, under the gazes of three pairs of eyes, he finally gritted his teeth and whispered, "We push forward! But don't go down the middle. We'll skirt around the side. Everyone be careful, absolutely do not make a sound!"

They were all experienced professional Adventurers; the number of dangerous situations they had encountered was beyond measure.

Upon receiving Marcus's order, they displayed a level of discipline and order that completely contrasted with their squad's chaotic impression.

The half-orc Gorg continued to lead the way, but his movements had lost their usual arrogant boldness. Like a noble lady at a ball, his two thick legs shifted carefully step by step, while his arms exerted silent force, muscles bulging as he maintained his balance and center of gravity.

His burly, mountain-like physique paired with this awkward posture created a sharp contrast, making him look exceptionally comical.

Behind him, Marcus and Stonebelly were just as cautious, moving as carefully as humanly possible without feeling the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment.

At a critical moment like this, no one cared about looking foolish.

In the entire Bloodedge Squad, only the Ranger archer Ciri showed no significant change.

Her Class Feat [Silent Prowl] ensured she wouldn't make a sound even when stepping on a ground covered in dead leaves; hiding her presence while walking had long become second nature to her.

Compared to those in front of and behind her, she actually had the peace of mind to carefully observe that massive figure slumped in the pool.

The stretched and warped surface of the plate armor seemed to be engraved with some sort of pattern, possibly the crest of the family he had sworn allegiance to, though the exact details were obscured by the pale gray stone dust coating it. A rust-covered bucket helm rested on its head, the gaps in its visor pitch-black. The head was the size of a normal human's, yet compared to the rolls of fat bunched around its neck, it looked disproportionately tiny.

Its bloated arm was plunged deep into the mud of the adjacent pool, and a flash of metallic luster could be seen within.

'Is that its weapon?' Ciri guessed inwardly. 'Too bad the timing isn't right. If there's a chance to dig that thing out of the mud later, it might be worth a few coins.'

Right at that moment, for some unknown reason, she suddenly felt her right foot become incomparably heavy.

It was only for an instant, as fleeting as a hallucination.

An unseen force of unknown origin quietly landed on her foot at a perfectly subtle moment—just as her left foot stepped onto the ground and her right foot was about to lift.

It felt just like tripping your toe on a step.

She abruptly lost her center of gravity, swaying and pitching violently forward.

If it were an ordinary person, a sudden trip like this would have ended with them falling face-first and bloody, assuming they were unlucky.

Fortunately, Ciri's Agility was outstanding, and she quickly regained control of her balance, avoiding a fall.

But even so, in her struggle to manage her center of gravity, the right foot that should have landed lightly uncontrollably stomped hard against the ground.

"Thud."

The abrupt footstep suddenly burst out in the dead silent square.

The entire Bloodedge Squad instantly froze in place.

Accompanied by the astonished gazes of her teammates from the front and back, in that instant, six pairs of empty eye sockets looked over at them in unison.

A tremble.

Stone dust scattered down from the foul-smelling, fatty body as a thick arm slowly pulled out from the mud, gradually revealing a metal flail filled with a dangerous aura.

Deep within the visor gaps originally filled with empty darkness, two spots of murky, blazing yellow light suddenly burst forth amidst a heavy breathing sound!

"Prepare for battle!!!"