"The number of the Undead Legion is growing! It's dense, simply endless! My Lord, the situation is urgent. Please take a look immediately and give your next instructions."
The Communication Stone vibrated violently, and the scout's voice, sharp with urgency, rang out from within.
At the same time, the surface of the stone erupted with flickering light.
Hum—!
Threads of light burst from the Communication Stone, intertwining to quickly construct a clear and dynamic three-dimensional projection in mid-air, transmitting the scene witnessed by the scouts in the distance in real-time, down to the finest detail.
The first thing that struck the view was an ocean-like army of low-level undead.
This included not only Skeleton Warriors with abnormally thick bones and speed far exceeding their peers, but also hordes of walking corpses draped in rusted, tattered armor, stiff in their movements yet possessing astonishing defense. Among them were undead that retained humanoid forms, as well as a vast number of terrifying forms transformed from ferocious beasts or twisted monsters.
They gathered together, forming a gray, dead, and endless wave of terror.
And among these tide-like low-level undead, there were many heart-stopping Advanced undead units mixed in.
There were Bone Behemoths as large as hills, forcibly stitched together from the bones of countless different races, each step causing the earth to tremble slightly.
There were Death Knights, shrouded in heavy black armor, riding Nightmare warhorses with hooves burning with ghostly blue flames, their eyes visible only through the slits of their helmets, revealing cold Soul-fire. Wherever the hooves passed, a string of long-lasting nether sparks remained on the ground.
There were also Banshees with translucent bodies, difficult to capture in specific form like thin smoke. They floated in the air, their twisted faces frozen with the purest hatred for all living things.
...
Charles focused, observing carefully for a moment, then turned to look at the Red-Iron Dragon sitting on the high-backed chair in the form of a black cat.
"My Lord, the movement of these low-level undead shows a rare discipline and coordination. Clearly, there is an extremely powerful will behind them, conducting unified scheduling and command."
"Otherwise, with the chaotic nature of low-level undead, such performance would be impossible."
Lord of Flowers Charles looked solemn and said in a deep voice: "This is by no means a naturally formed undead disaster, but a premeditated, organized military attack."
Although it was daytime, the sky was overcast, filled with thick fog, and there was no direct sunlight on the earth.
Even so, normal undead creatures still preferred the night, which was rich in negative energy.
Such a large-scale, well-disciplined undead appearance during the day pointed to only one conclusion: there must be a mastermind behind the scenes, precisely manipulating and driving all of this.
Woo-ahhh—!
Just then, the projection emitted the shrill wails of countless banshees in unison. The sound waves, dense as substance, spread out like ripples. The light and sound projected by the Communication Stone were violently twisted and shaken, suffering severe interference.
However, the scene seen earlier was enough to make a judgment.
Garros's voice was calm and waveless: "Prepare for battle."
Charles nodded heavily: "Understood! I will personally lead the team to intercept!"
He quickly put on a set of light armor with simple lines but engraved with enchanted runes, hung his iconic cross knight sword at his waist, and turned to call his troops to march.
"Wait."
Garros flicked his tail elegantly, stopping him.
"In the undead cluster, I did not observe any obvious command nodes. The Necromancer, or a higher-level undead commander, who can assemble and drive such a large undead army will never easily expose themselves."
He said slowly, his cat eyes flashing with the light of calm analysis.
The strength of undead creatures has always relied on their endless numerical advantage, but individual combat power is usually weak.
The tactical core of commanders like Advanced undead or Necromancers is much the same—mostly using massive amounts of low-level undead to consume the enemy, while they hide within the military formation, waiting for opportunities.
This is both to protect themselves and to better control the overall situation.
Charles paused and looked at Garros again.
Garros continued: "The most troublesome aspect of the Undead Legion is that they can continuously transform the dead on the battlefield into new undead, becoming stronger as they fight, like a snowball. At the moment, The Dragon Flight and the main force of the Molten Iron Legion have not yet arrived at Ximu Territory. Relying only on the existing guard forces of the territory, if we engage head-on, I am afraid it will only become food for the enemy's army, helping it grow."
Iron Dragon Sorog, Red Dragon Samantha, and other Young Dragons were marching with the Molten Iron Legion to prevent any accidents.
Those monster tribes with relatively loose discipline could not act on a large scale without the restraint and coordination of various levels of leaders, including the Advanced retainers who had gone to The Borderlands to attend the banquet, who were also leading large-scale legions trekking through the wilderness.
Because the time was short, they had not yet arrived at Ximu Territory.
Charles frowned slightly and asked: "Then what do you mean?"
Garros smiled, his expression calm, and said: "It's very simple. I will take action myself, and with my own strength, pierce through this Undead Legion, not giving them the opportunity to fight to support themselves and grow."
One has to admit that this Undead Legion of unknown origin chose a very subtle timing.
On one hand, Ximu Territory was empty, and the guard force was insufficient.
But on the other hand, the King of Molten Iron himself was sitting in Ximu Territory at this moment and had decided to take the field personally.
Whether this timing choice was exquisite or unfortunate, the Undead Dominator hiding behind the scenes would soon experience it personally.
"Having slept for more than a decade, I do indeed need a decent battle to awaken the long-dormant power in this body."
Garros's low voice echoed in the council hall.
The previous contests with retainers, blood kin, and The Dragon Flight were ultimately just small scuffles that restrained power, making it hard to enjoy. So at this moment, Garros felt his claws itching, longing for an unreserved vent.
I hope those bone piles can be a bit sturdier and not fall apart too quickly, so they can at least help me increase my resistance to negative energy.
Garros thought to himself.
The so-called negative energy is a force that symbolizes death and void.
It sucks life, destroys the Soul, extinguishes light, strips away hope... It is almost the exact opposite of all life phenomena, a powerful energy widely existing in many planes of the world, and in some planes, it is so dense that it forms a death kingdom composed entirely of negative energy.
And the Eternal Death Path that Garros was preparing to cultivate had many powerful skills that were closely related to controlling negative energy.
"Leave the front of the battlefield to me."
"Charles, your task is to cruise on the edge of the battlefield and use your ability to find that skulking commander."
As the voice fell, Garros in the form of a black cat began to change.
Majestic dragon horns began to grow on the small head, the soft fur on the body was quickly replaced by dense, cold black scales, and the body expanded at a speed visible to the naked eye, causing the high-backed chair beneath him to make a creaking sound of being unable to bear the weight.
Swoosh!
The huge shadow that was gradually stretching and revealing its true form suddenly leaped, crossing the wide window sash lightly yet swiftly, rushing straight into the gloomy sky covered by thick fog.
On the street below, some residents looked up in astonishment, only to see the fog churning, and a huge shadow cut through the sky at an incredible speed, instantly plunging into the clouds, leaving only a faint pressure and humming in the air.
In the council hall.
"Support will arrive immediately. Everyone, hold your posts and don't panic."
Charles put away the Communication Stone and stepped forward with a calm face.
With this seemingly ordinary small step, he seemed to have stepped from one world into another. The moment his footsteps fell, ripples like water waves appeared in the space around him, and he disappeared silently as if he had never existed.
Meanwhile.
In the east of Ximu Territory, the third outpost.
The thick, grayish-white fog caused by the rapid rise of negative energy was like a heavy shroud, covering the whole world in deathly silence and haze.
The werewolf guard captain standing on the top of the watchtower had just put down the Communication Stone and shook his pricked ears irritably.
He tried his best to look in the direction where the Undead Legion was approaching, his expression tensing unconsciously due to nervousness, his Adam's apple rolling up and down.
This place was about sixty kilometers away from the main city of Ximu Territory, but the grayish-white undead tide was gradually covering hills, woodlands, and rivers like a real sea wave.
White bones and rotting bodies were looming in the thick fog.
The rustling sound of countless bone joints rubbing and dragging forward was continuous, like the whispers of death, getting closer and closer.
The enemy was too close, the territory was too far.
In this situation, what kind of support could arrive in time?
Although full of doubts, the werewolf leader still followed the order of the Lord of Flowers and conveyed the instruction to hold the post.
However, with the limited guards of the third outpost, facing that endless sea of undead that seemed to be able to swallow everything, once submerged, the ending was destined to be ten deaths and no life.
Whoosh—!
The werewolf leader took a deep breath of cold, damp, decaying air, trying to make the muscles on his face look stiff and expressionless.
He had made up his mind.
Any guard, as long as there was any sign of panic or desertion, would not need the undead to do it; he would personally use his claws to pull out their hearts first.
The next time, every second was like suffering on a chopping block.
Watching the wave of death approach step by step, fear quietly wrapped around every guard's heart like cold vines.
However, this suffocating torture lasted less than a minute.
At this moment, even the Kobold guard with the worst psychological quality in the team had just begun to feel uneasy and slightly restless, far from the point of collapse and running away.
Just then, a violent gust of wind from nowhere swept through, unexpectedly blowing away the thick fog that filled the world for a short time.
At this very moment, a huge dragon shadow like a meteor tearing the sky broke through the clouds at a terrifying speed several times the speed of sound, appearing above the outpost.
"Dragon... Is it the Dragon Lord?!"
"The great Lord of the Crimson Wings! It is the Lord of the Crimson Wings who has descended!"
The guards were first astonished, and then incomparable awe and ecstasy erupted in their eyes!
They never expected that the one coming to support them would be the great Lord of the Crimson Wings himself!
As the Molten Iron Tribe became increasingly prosperous, for the vast majority of grassroots retainers, although they grew up listening to the epics and prestige of the Lord of the Crimson Wings, full of infinite longing and loyalty in their hearts, those who could see the true face of the Dragon Lord were, after all, a very small number of lucky ones.
The King descends from the sky, majestic and towering!
All the anxiety and tension remaining in the hearts of all the guards at the third outpost vanished at this moment, gone without a trace! Replacing it was unspeakable excitement, and the honor of witnessing the Dragon Lord's descent with their own eyes.