Chapter 97: Resident Evil

For this mission, Niu Baiwan proved to be even more cautious than I had imagined. Beyond the Nocturne in B-flat Minor, he had invited others to assist—not just one, but two.

None of us were surprised by the arrival of the elven druid maiden, "Fairy Fallen Face-First." According to reliable rumors, Niu Baiwan and Fairy Fallen Face-First had been very close recently, often traveling and adventuring together, getting along quite harmoniously. Moreover, for our party, it was only beneficial to have a versatile player who possessed long-range magical damage, solid melee combat abilities after shapeshifting, and a repertoire of natural healing spells.

However, the appearance of the half-orc warlock Dingding Xiaoge was somewhat perplexing to me. A green-skinned fellow like him, severely hampered by the "lag" curse—slow in movement and sluggish in reaction—would be nothing more than a target for pursuit, no matter how high his level. He was a stationary target that offered no challenge whatsoever.

Yet, the warlock’s performance quickly dispelled my doubts. His movements were unexpectedly agile and natural, entirely devoid of the sluggish delays I had encountered before. Nevertheless, his actions still looked somewhat odd. For instance, he would turn to round a corner before actually reaching the intersection, almost slamming into the wall, or he would stop five or six steps away from us, mutter "Sorry to keep you waiting" in a voice we could barely hear, and then, after a moment of realization, suddenly snap out of it and walk the rest of the way to join us.

"Why were you standing over there? Acting all spooky from that distance!" the Nocturne in B-flat Minor asked him curiously.

"I’m so used to being lagged by the network connection that I always feel like there’s a delay, so I have to compensate for everything. I haven't quite adapted yet," Dingding Xiaoge said with a sheepish look, speaking rapidly without catching his breath—a stark contrast to his past habit of speaking so slowly it sounded like a lullaby. I suspected this was a lingering side effect of his long-term exposure to "network latency."

"Why aren't you lagging today?" Niu Baiwan was also quite interested in the half-orc warlock's unusual performance.

"I’m on break now, so I can play at an internet cafe..." Dingding Xiaoge replied quickly.

With the team assembled, Niu Baiwan began to explain the mission that had been troubling him all day.

It was a chain quest. First, Major Gutierrez, an imperial officer guarding the outpost gate, would inform us that they had received news of an Abyssal Empire messenger carrying a secret letter from the Umberlian Valley, bound for the Great Lich Maken-Skarl. The Major believed this letter contained the next phase of the Abyssal Empire’s battle plans, which would affect the entire war front. He implored us to stop the messenger at all costs and prevent the letter from reaching the Great Lich.

Niu Baiwan led us to ambush the messenger at a fork in a jungle path. A few minutes later, a level forty-five vampire messenger hurried by and was caught red-handed. Any one of us five could have easily taken down such a minion, let alone five against one. The messenger didn't even have time to scream before we dispatched him cleanly and recovered the secret letter from his corpse.

When Major Gutierrez saw the letter, his face changed instantly. It turned out the letter not only detailed the recent troop movements of the Abyssal Empire but also revealed a terrifying secret: the Empire was developing a new toxin called the "Life Corroder." This horrific poison spreads through wounds, causing the victim to lose their life in a short time and transform into a vicious, bloodthirsty undead creature that attacks every living thing it encounters. The base for developing this toxin was located near the Hitvenia Lowlands.

We all knew that the creation of an undead requires three conditions: First, the deceased must leave behind a well-preserved, intact corpse—at least the bones must be whole (which is why rats and many scavengers are the natural enemies of the undead, contrary to popular belief); second, the soul must be under a profound, unredeemable curse; and third, the deceased must harbor immense resentment, anger toward life, and a strong desire for vengeance.

Even if all three conditions were met, these corpses had less than a fifty-fifty chance of awakening from their eternal slumber to become a death-defying "Rotter."

It wasn't until the Great Lich Maken-Skarl appeared that this situation changed. This master of soul-craft might not be the most evil lich in history, but he was certainly the greatest necromancer. He shattered the natural laws of undead creation, using his immense magical power to turn ordinary corpses into Rotters, making them smarter and more loyal. He almost single-handedly forged the army of Rotters that once swept across the Falvey Continent, becoming one of the most capable assistants to the Abyssal King Dalandir.

This toxin, however, was even more potent than the Great Lich’s magic. It was not only highly toxic but also contagious. If a healthy person were injured by an infected attacker—even a scratch—they could be infected and eventually transform into an accomplice of the Great Lich. While the souls of Rotters created this way might be more fractured and lack high intelligence, their lust for the flesh of the living would turn them into the most insane killers.

One could easily imagine that if even a single person in a city were infected, it could spread from one to ten, and ten to a hundred. Perhaps in a single night, your parents, spouse, or children would turn into man-eating ghouls, tearing you apart in your sleep to fill their insatiable guts with your flesh; or perhaps you would join them, inviting other strangers to feast on the liver and brains of your own kin—and you wouldn't even feel sorrow, because you would be nothing but a corpse, a Rotter devoid of soul, driven only by hunger and greed.

I couldn't help but feel a secret sense of relief: thank goodness we intercepted this letter in time and learned of this terrible news; thank goodness the toxin was still in development and we could still stop it; thank goodness it wasn't too late, and the world hadn't yet become a hopeless, living hell.

No matter how I expressed my gratitude, it wouldn't be an exaggeration. This was a rebirth granted by the Supreme God to the people of the continent, giving us a chance to escape this impending catastrophe.

"The number of Rotters wandering nearby has suddenly increased, and their behavior is quite strange. I suspect it's related to this matter. Bring me a few fresh Rotter hearts, warrior of the continent. We must find a countermeasure as soon as possible." After a moment of contemplation, Major Gutierrez issued the next task.

As the Major said, numerous "Bloodthirsty Zombies" had gathered near the outpost. It was clear they hadn't been Rotters for long; the patches of rotting, liver-spotted flesh and the yellow pus constantly dripping from their feet showed they were "fresh" and not "seasoned" undead who had been revived long ago.

Compared to the undead warriors we had encountered before, these guys were slower. Usually, only half of their bodies could generate force, while the other half dragged behind. Their movements were stiff and their reactions dull, as if they had all been hemiplegic patients in life.

However, despite their sluggish movements, their strength far exceeded that of ordinary undead. Even unarmed, a casual swipe of their hands could deal hundreds of points of damage. Their defense was also astonishingly high. Because they had completely lost consciousness, they were more ferocious and reckless, ignoring your attacks entirely and indifferent to the pain of blades biting into their flesh. Their souls were completely filled with a crazed bloodlust; their only purpose for existing was to tear everything living to shreds.

The most troublesome part was that these special zombies constantly emitted a layer of greenish toxic mist. As soon as you approached it, your life force would constantly drain away.

When they were finally put to rest, their rotting corpses, still under magical control, would suddenly explode, dealing violent blast damage to nearby living creatures and infecting them with an even stronger toxin that caused massive life loss in a short period.

At first, these disgusting lumps of rotten meat caused us no small amount of trouble. Many times we had knocked down an enemy, only to be seriously injured by their corpse explosion while off guard. But soon, we learned our lesson. Every time we struck down a zombie, we would immediately run to a safe distance, wait for the corpse to explode and the toxic mist to dissipate, and then return to harvest the heart.

Once the "Corpse Explosion" skill lost its effectiveness, these slow, mindless living dead could no longer threaten us. By the time the afternoon arrived, we had handed enough zombie hearts to Major Gutierrez.

The Major did not keep the hearts but instructed us to hand them over to Mr. Wagner, the military pharmacist stationed at the outpost, for research. Niu Baiwan led us expertly to a tent on the north side of the outpost where we found Mr. Wagner. He was a gaunt, middle-aged man with a high nose bridge, sallow hair, and deeply sunken eye sockets, looking quite listless.

But when we explained our purpose and placed the heart specimens on his table, this lethargic man was instantly transformed. His fatigue vanished, his eyes gleamed with a cold light, and he was filled with energy.

"Is what you say true?" He stood up, cupped a heart in both hands, and examined it carefully against the sunlight outside the tent. I don't know if it was an illusion, but the heart in the pharmacist's hands seemed to be pulsating, squeezing out remaining blood and rotten fluids from its chambers.

"Ah..." Fairy Fallen Face-First let out a soft cry, gripping Niu Baiwan’s arm tightly, wishing she could bury her head in his armpit, while her left hand covered her face, her voice trembling: "...Brother Niu, this man is such a pervert, it's so scary..."

What puzzled me was that although she had covered her face, her eyes were peeking out through the gaps in her fingers, staring so wide as if she were afraid of missing a single detail.

"Don't... don't be afraid. I've taken this mission before. He was like this last time, and I'm... used to it." Niu Baiwan’s words were heroic, but his actions were anything but. He was curled up behind the bard Nocturne in B-flat Minor, his hands braced on the bard's shoulders, trembling uncontrollably as if he were ready to shove the bard forward and flee at any moment.

I think it's normal for someone to instinctively want to hide behind others when afraid. But I really didn't think a tauren hiding behind a bard would provide any practical protection—er... even if he stuck his butt out, it wouldn't help!

It is hard for me to admit I am a coward; in fact, I had personally extracted many of these hearts from the zombies. But I knew clearly that I would never have the courage to hold these putrid lumps in my hands, bringing them close to my face to examine them with such interest, like this frail pharmacist. I didn't see the instinctive fear of death in his eyes; instead, his gaze was filled with an excited fanaticism, as if what he held wasn't a piece of toxic rotten meat, but a exquisite work of art. The pharmacist's pathological, fanatical look actually made me feel a chill, and I dared not look directly at him.

In this world, there are many talented geniuses who can achieve great success in their respective fields, far exceeding others and even the era they live in.

However, because their exceptional intellect has reached the peak of the world, and nothing can block their thoughts or vision, their self-confidence turns into arrogance. They become extreme paranoiacs in their fields. Thinking they can control everything and change everything, they lose respect and awe for the world, eventually wandering further down the wrong path and bringing disaster to the entire continent.

Great geniuses rarely make mistakes, but when they do, they are devastating, irreparable errors.

Everything about Mr. Wagner’s gaze gave me this feeling. For some reason, I had a strong premonition that handing these heart specimens to him might not have been the right choice...

Mr. Wagner did not give me time to reconsider. He skillfully cut a nearly transparent thin slice from a heart, placed it into a strange instrument on the table, sprinkled a bit of unknown blue powder into it, closed the lid, injected magic into the crystal above the instrument, and started it.

The instrument immediately emitted a slight vibration. Soon, an eerie blue light scattered from it, followed by a vivid red light separating from the blue, and then a ghastly white beam shot out. Though it was just a ray of light, merely looking at it made me feel a chill run through my body, and a cold breath rose in my throat.

"This is truly fascinating!" After the test, Mr. Wagner removed the heart slice, carefully placed it into a crystal container, and hid it in a box. "Major Gutierrez guessed correctly; I have isolated some special toxins from these specimens..."

"...I must say, the person who invented them is a genius. This is the perfect combination of necromancy, blood magic, and soul magic. And what's even more wonderful is that the toxin itself is alive. These guys aren't animals, nor are they plants; they are more like a type of fungus. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Unfortunately, they aren't finished yet; there are some flaws in their lifespan. But I think I can... well, I mean, I can make you some anti-toxin potions first. I think you'll find them useful."

"Fine, go tell the Major the news, and you can come back for the anti-toxin potions later. Before that, I need to study more... well, I mean I need to rest for a moment." With that, Mr. Wagner sat on the edge of his bed, signaling for us to leave.

This pale man calling the toxin "the most beautiful thing" gave me goosebumps. His hesitant and unnatural manner while speaking also planted a seed of doubt in my heart. But this was not the time to think about these problems. The Abyssal Empire was constantly perfecting this terrible toxin, and we had to stop them—the sooner, the better!

Once again, we found Major Gutierrez and relayed Mr. Wagner’s words to him. The Major’s face was grave. He told us that there was a castle called "Gravel Fortress" to the southwest of the outpost. It was originally an Allied camp, later occupied by the invading Imperial forces. Scouts reported many anomalies in the castle, and he suspected that the Abyssal Empire’s toxin production base was built there.

"However, a group of brutal and cunning Rotters is occupying the only road leading to the castle. No one knows where they came from. They are numerous, and any traveler passing through is mercilessly slaughtered. You had better go ask Chief Hondos for help and assist him in clearing this road," the Major said to us. "Remember, time is of the essence..."

Oh, despite my dislike for it, it seems we have to deal with that green-skinned creature who became a commander—hey, Dingding Xiaoge, I'm not being sarcastic—in any case, a half-orc acting as a human commander always feels a bit weird.

"You mean you want to slaughter those brats wandering around?" Hearing our request, Chief Hondos widened his eyes, staring at us quite unfriendlily, his voice as loud as thunder. "We were just planning to do that. You know, this is our business; we don't need your interference! Those bastards are mine, understand?"

"However..." the half-orc chief’s tone shifted, "...since you want to pass, I don't mind you coming along to see. But remember, none of you are allowed to touch the leader; I want to kill him with my own hands!"

Two fires seemed to be burning in the chief's pupils.

"With my own hands!"