Chess Mage of Faerûn

Chapter 166 An Erle

The senses one gets from the land of death are completely different from those from the previous journey.

The originally straight and wide trade route changes drastically upon entering this territory. The flat plains are gone, and the winding and twisting route becomes the main feature of this journey.

It was a road carved out on the edge of a swamp. Although it wasn't as treacherous and impassable as the depths of a swamp, the scattered depressions, mud pits, and even ponds forced people to find solid ground in the gaps between them to serve as a roadbed.

This truly treacherous terrain feature is also the culprit behind the current winding road section.

The Canaan squad's journey inevitably shifted from a galloping pace to a snail's pace, and the road was only a minor part of the troubles to come.

At this time, the Sword Bay region was still in late summer and early autumn. The autumn breeze, which should have brought a bit of coolness after the heat, was cold and gloomy with a hint of decay in the land of death.

The numerous wetlands and puddles are perfect breeding grounds for mosquitoes and other insects. Countless mosquitoes, larvae, bedbugs, and other annoying creatures buzz around the convoy, waiting for their chance to strike.

Fortunately, someone still had some insect repellent powder and ointment that Jadi had given them before she left. After distributing them to the two carriages, they didn't end up covered in bites and turn into giant toads.

These daily annoyances were one thing, but sensing the negative energy spreading from the depths of the swamp to this area, and considering the decaying smell in the air, Zhang Yuan could guess what kind of danger lurked here.

Without him, the captain, even needing to say a word, the group, whose intuition and experience had been honed to an exceptionally high level, had already consciously raised their alert level. The three summoned Moon Knights, acting as rangers, took on the task of patrolling and protecting the outer perimeter of the convoy.

On the first day after entering the Land of Death, at noon, a group of skeleton soldiers carrying decaying weapons wandered the road and came into contact with the squad.

This lowest-level brutes naturally couldn't cause any trouble and were quickly turned into bone fragments by the Luna Riders and Rick and Morty who pounced on them.

However, what happened next proved that this was just an appetizer before the main course.

It was as if the opening ceremony of a fashion show for undead creatures had been set up, after which various undead took turns appearing, including skeletons and zombies, as well as ghosts and ghouls.

What's even more puzzling is that even the mummy showed its face, staggering and shuffling as it tried to approach the caravan, only to be left staring blankly at the departing carriage before it had gone halfway.

The old mummy, who should have been resting in a dry tomb, has also come to wade into this mess. You've really had a hard time.

Is there a travel allowance? If so, hurry up and get yourself a new outfit. The bandages wrapped around your body are so worn that you can't even tell their original color anymore; they look like used toilet paper.

If someone still has the mood to complain, then it can only be said that these guys really didn't put any pressure on the team.

On the edge of this land of death, the vast majority of creatures that appear are low-level undead, with low combat power and slow movement speed.

That makes sense. If this road were teeming with high-level undead creatures, what kind of trade route would it be? It would be better to just call it the Road of Death. Apart from Vol'jin leading the team himself, which merchant guild would dare to do such a deadly business? Zhang Yuan, who was originally a little nervous, also sat back in the carriage. There was no need to worry too much about this small scene. His teammates were more than capable of handling it. After all, the team that he had put so much effort and resources into building was not just for show.

On the second night after entering the Land of Death, the members of the Canaan Squad went to their tents to rest after dinner, while Lawrence and three warrior pieces took turns keeping watch.

The already chilly swampy area became even more so at night. Old Sepi wrapped himself up tightly in a thick leather cloak and sat by the campfire, occasionally turning his neck to look around, his ears perked up, trying to distinguish and filter out all sounds except for the buzzing of mosquitoes.

Suddenly, Lawrence's eyes, which had been darting around warily, closed for a moment. When he opened them again, the liveliness in his azure pupils was gone, replaced by a doll-like blankness.

The three chess pieces beside him—Axe King, Juggernaut, and Mars—seemed oblivious, continuing to faithfully carry out the orders given by their master.

"what?"

A moment later, a slightly surprised sigh came from the perimeter of the camp.

I, An Erle, am a vampire—no, a bloodline member!
Living is not easy, even in this half-dead state. Even for a noble vampire, living comfortably in this "ghostly" place is by no means easy.

As a vampire, An Erle was at least a mid-level among the undead. Although he was not as powerful as the high-level vampires who could gather a bunch of followers to claim territory and act recklessly in their own little plot of land, he still considered himself a hundred times stronger than those brainless skeletons and zombies.

However, this was of no use. His previous experience deep in the Death Swamp taught him that the right way was to be obedient and careful not to become a ghost.

He had previously followed a minor vampire lord, but due to some conflicts, he got into a dispute with a death knight. As a result, the stalemate lasted less than a week before the lord's backer, a lich, led an army to attack him. Not only was he killed, but the coffin where his soul was stored was also found by the other party. An Erle didn't want to recall his fate.

Fortunately, he was a brilliant strategist. Before all hope was lost, he seized an opportunity to slip away. He dared not stay in his original place, even though the dense negative energy there was perfect for undead creatures to survive.

An Erle, who ran all the way to the outskirts of the Land of Death, truly experienced the thrill of being in the dark. In this area, apart from that slow-witted mummy wrapped in rags, there was no one who could stand a chance against him.

Using the intimidating power of mid-level undead, he controlled a dozen or so low-level undead creatures, calling himself Sir An'erle. He lurked near the trade routes, waiting for an opportunity to attack caravans with weaker guards and plunder them. He was living a truly comfortable life.

But as the saying goes, "He who walks by the river will eventually get his shoes wet." Even though he never dared to provoke those large caravans, he still encountered some tough opponents.

Just nine days ago, on a gloomy, overcast evening, a small caravan of several carriages drove along the trade route and was spotted by our lord from afar.

An Erle, who hadn't received any lucky money for over ten days, had become so destitute that he had to catch toads to suck their blood for a quick fix. After confirming that the other party was small in scale and had limited manpower, he made a decision that he would later regret—to pull off a heist!
Relying on the numerical advantage of his men, he led a group of henchmen to a dangerous spot and blocked the road. Both sides were muddy puddles, making it impossible for the convoy to escape.

As it turned out, the slowly approaching caravan did not have wings, but a human who stepped down from one of the carriages did grow wings.

(End of this chapter)