Chapter 147 - 50: [Night of the Heart of the Remains: Tomb and Midnight Diner]

Chapter 147: Chapter 50: [Night of the Heart of the Remains: Tomb and Midnight Diner]

The grotesque trees twisted together like deformed tentacles. Their dull, brownish-gray-green bark was scattered with eye-like verdigris spots, and the dense, tiny green leaves resembled moldy fungal fuzz on a dead man’s palm.

Rotting flesh squirmed. Fleshy tentacles and filthy, scaled claws clung together, slowly adhering to the bark before pulling away, leaving behind a foul-smelling ichor.

Festering figures crawled among the Rusted Copper Trees. They moved slowly, looking like a scene straight out of a zombie movie.

OOH-OOH-OOH! SCREECH! SCREECH!

The harsh, bizarre cries of the Tree Ghost Monkeys echoed through the Rusted Copper Forest. They grabbed the horned, taro-shaped Rot Root Balls beside them and hurled them at the festering, grotesque figures ahead.

"Ooooh-ya! Oh-ya!" the horned Rot Root Balls shrieked as the Tree Ghost Monkeys threw them. Their tiny claws, formed from roots, tightly gripped sharp verdigris branches, plunging them viciously into the rotting flesh upon impact.

But this seemed futile; the Undead felt no pain.

The Corpse Demon’s festering figure swayed in the forest, entangled by the Rot Root Balls. With a heavy SWISH that tore through the air, it whipped its tentacles, trying to throw off the obstacles in its path.

Amidst the verdigris-tinted shadows of the trees, Old Duke and two other Demon Race Exiles carried heavy wooden buckets, cautiously retreating.

They had ventured too deeply into the Hai Xin Plain, where dangerous Undead like Corpse Demons roamed freely. Outside of Samael’s camp and beyond the range of his suppression aura, the Undead still retained their natural instinct to slaughter the living.

Accompanied by the CRACK of whipping tentacles, three or four of the entangled Rot Root Balls were smashed to pieces. The Corpse Demon’s limbs and tentacles flailed wildly as it scrambled forward in a bizarre posture, charging rapidly straight at Old Duke and the others!

The old man did not retreat. Instead, he instinctively stepped forward to shield the other two, reaching to his waist to draw his ebony-handled Gold-Plated Short Sword.

SMACK! The short sword was viciously knocked away by a fleshy tentacle, spinning through the air before stabbing into a nearby tree trunk.

Old Duke stumbled back in panic, only to trip over a Rusted Copper Tree Root protruding from the soil. The collision sent all three of them tumbling backward to the ground.

His pupils reflected the frantically scuttling Corpse Demon as its fleshy tentacles grew larger in his vision. He instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and raised his arms, bracing for an impact strong enough to tear his body apart.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

A split second before the tentacles could grab Old Duke, the striking sound of the Nether Copper Sword Shield echoed through the Rusted Copper Forest.

The fleshy tentacles froze. The Corpse Demon curled its tendrils inward, bowing in a grotesque posture to pay its respects to the distant Nether Copper Monarch.

"Elder Duke." Samael put away his sword and shield, stepping forward briskly. "The depths of the Heart of the Remains are simply too dangerous. If you must venture far from my camp, perhaps you should take this with you."

He extended his Nether Copper Hand Armor, cradling a taro ball wearing a Nether Copper Bell-shaped Helmet in his palm.

"Oh-ya!" the taro ball wearing the Bell-shaped Helmet shouted. It raised the Rusted Copper Branches in its hands and began striking its own Nether Copper Helmet—CLANG CLANG CLANG—causing the Undead in the surrounding area to immediately retreat.

"Ah... thank you so much, honorable Knight." Old Duke slowly climbed to his feet with the support of the other two, then shrugged off their hands.

"What are you doing! I’m not that old! Why are you holding me?" He turned his head and rolled his eyes at the two young Exiles behind him, then looked back at Samael with an awkward smile. "We’ve frequently camped in the Hai Xin Plain over the past dozen years, but this is the first time we’ve gone this deep into the Heart of the Remains. I momentarily forgot how unique the situation is here. It was my negligence."

He took the taro ball wearing the Nether Copper Bell-shaped Helmet from Samael’s hands and placed it on the lid of a nearby bucket.

"Oh-ya! Ooooh-ya!" The taro ball sat on the bucket lid, going CLANG CLANG CLANG as it struck the Bell-shaped Helmet on its head.

"Also, even with its signal to drive them away, you must always be careful," Samael said. He pulled the ebony-handled Gold-Plated Short Sword from the nearby tree, gripping the blade and offering the hilt back to Old Duke.

"It can only repel ordinary Undead. The elite units of other Ghost Knights are unaffected by the Nether Copper resonance signals. When encountering elite Undead wearing Nether Copper Equipment and Nether Copper Helmets, you must be extremely cautious." He pointed at the taro ball in the Bell-shaped Helmet. "My Undead helmet type is the one-eyed Bell-shaped Helmet. When encountering Undead with Nether Copper Helmets outside the camp, please observe carefully. If it is not a Bell-shaped Helmet, you must get away immediately."

"Thank you for the warning." Old Duke nodded, taking the short sword and sliding it back into the leather sheath at his waist. "It’s just that the water supply is of the utmost importance. Everyone has been working hard all day, and lacking clean water would seriously affect their condition. I grew anxious and let my guard down."

Samael paused slightly, suddenly realizing that he had not needed to eat, drink, or rest for a long time. Even when he occasionally picked through the markets to bring some food back for Talia, it was merely out of a habitual desire to change the subject and soothe her emotions.

His cold body and purely rational mode of thinking over such a long period had nearly caused him to forget the crucial importance of a water supply.

Coming back to his senses, he helped lift two of the heavy buckets.

"Elder Duke, during the construction of the Underground City, where will everyone need to live? What will they eat?" he asked. He clumsily attempted to show concern for matters he no longer needed himself. These matters of the living were likely key to building the Underground City. Still, caring for the living as one of the dead felt a bit bizarre.

"There isn’t enough space in the carriages, but if we only rely on camp tents, perhaps that won’t be enough?" Carrying the buckets, he looked around, inspecting the slightly brittle, frozen blades of grass at his feet. "Also, although my body cannot feel temperature, has the weather grown colder?"