This time I chose Paladin.

Chapter 272 Fever
[Level 3 Orange Public Hazard Event – ​​[Heat Epidemic] has been added to the event list. Current status: In progress.]

……

Pain is the only king here.

When Nie Weiyang crossed that blurry boundary and stepped into this Level 3 orange danger zone marked as "spread of the epidemic," the air quickly seemed to turn into a viscous, scalding liquid. The high temperature and humidity steamed his blood vessels, and even the flow of air seemed to solidify. It had a strange smell of rust and decay, and every breath burned his trachea.

In the heart of this scorching hell, a murky river meanders, and on the other side of the river lies a town. Its walls are a product of stone, mud, and wood, their lines irregular, yet they protect the dying lives within.

The wells were nearly dry, but even more terrifying than the thirst was a strange disease called fever—

High fever, blackish-red patches appearing on the skin and rapidly ulcerating.

Death is harvested efficiently in silence.

As Nie Weiyang approached the wall, the guards on the watchtower came into his view first.

They were less like soldiers and more like patients who could barely stand, barely maintaining a vigilant posture.

But their bodies swayed slightly uncontrollably, as if they might fall from the height at any moment. The rough crossbows in their hands seemed unusually heavy, their arms trembled slightly from weakness, and their tattered clothes were soaked with unknown stains, clinging tightly to their bodies.

Even more shocking were their exposed skin, with black and red patches of varying sizes distributed on their necks and arms. The edges were so clear they looked like they had been branded with a hot iron, and the center had begun to darken and harden. Some of them had even broken open, oozing a small amount of viscous, turbid bodily fluid.

They stared intently at Nie Weiyang, this uninvited guest.

Nie Weiyang glanced at them, and they instinctively looked away; one of them even staggered backward.

With a sharp, ringing sound, Nie Weiyang pointed his longsword forward and shouted, "Holy Guardian!"

"Uh!"

The person who was shielded fell from mid-air and instinctively curled up, but after a few breaths, he was surprised to find that he was not injured.

This act of kindness further dampened the already low spirits of the guards, who were even less inclined to attack – after all, Nie Weiyang was clearly a combat professional of a much higher level than them, and he had emerged from the deep forest without any injuries.

Even if they were to take action, they probably wouldn't be able to pose any threat to this visitor.

As Nie Weiyang approached the gate, more details came into view.

The guards standing by the door were in even worse shape. One of the young men was leaning against the scorching hot iron sheet, his eyelids half-closed, his body trembling uncontrollably, clearly the high fever was eroding his senses.

On his bare calf, a huge blackish-red patch had festered, its edges curled up to reveal the strangely colored rotting flesh beneath, with yellowish-green pus slowly flowing out, attracting a few unafraid flying insects.

The cloying, putrid stench in the air emanated from these festering wounds.

Nie Weiyang frowned slightly. Even though this hellish place was indeed a promised land of snakes, insects, and poisonous miasma in its undeveloped state, he really didn't expect that the first human settlement he saw would be in such a state of... collapse.

But when he stepped inside the walls, it was as if he had entered a real hell on earth.

Here, there are not many truly reliable houses, only shacks to shelter people from the wind and rain.

Almost no one here is unharmed. The limited shade is crowded with patients, who huddle on the ground with only tattered cloth or dry grass under them, silently enduring the torment of pain, or perhaps they simply don't have the strength to make a sound anymore.

At this moment, their skin became a canvas for disease, with black and red patches spreading like malignant moss on their limbs, torso, and faces.

Some patches are just beginning to appear, bright red in color, accompanied by significant swelling of the skin.

Some have entered the necrotic stage, turning dark purple or even black in color, with a dry and wrinkled surface, resembling charred tree bark.

The most terrifying thing was the large, festering wounds, where pus and necrotic tissue mixed together, emitting an even stronger stench, and the stark white bone could be vaguely seen deep inside the wounds.

Their lips were cracked and peeling, their complexions were an ominous sallow, and their sweat did not flow freely but rather seeped continuously from their dilated pores, leaving meandering trails on their patchy skin.

Nie Weiyang could hear the creaking sound of their every breath, like bellows. Their chests heaved violently, their eyes were cloudy and unfocused, yet they still forced themselves to look at Nie Weiyang with bloodshot eyes—at this glamorous guest.

Painful groans echoed softly in the air, like howls squeezed out from the cracks of hell.

A child lay in his mother's arms, the woman mechanically fanning him with her hand, but the patches on the child's body had spread to his cheeks, and his breathing was so weak that it was almost imperceptible.

Not far away, a man suddenly began to convulse violently, spitting out foam with blood streaks from his mouth. The people around him just stared blankly, not even having the strength to go forward and check on him.

Death is not accidental here, but the norm; a soft sob is often more suffocating than a loud wail.

The whole town was like a slowly burning furnace.

Everyone inside was being devoured from the inside out by this bizarre and ferocious plague, slowly drying and corroding them until they died in agony. Nie Weiyang pursed his lips. He felt the sand beneath his feet was scorching hot.

No matter how much he thought about it, he never imagined that southern Asia would be in this situation at this time.

Because this information was not recorded at all last week!

Last time, he came to this land for the first time, and it had become the territory of the Mother Goddess Cult and the Life God Cult... Yes, how could those people possibly record these things, record the details of the plague that has tormented countless people? Even these people in front of him would probably have died long ago last time, and people would have thought they were polluting the land if they were buried in the mud!
The shield around Nie Weiyang never faded, and as dust filled the air, he could clearly sense that his energy was being consumed at an unprecedented rate.

Although this was still not a burden for him, it proved that there was some force in the air trying to erode his shield.

"..." Nie Weiyang wanted to glance at the group of children huddled together not far away, but he held back. He frowned, closed his eyes, and tried to reduce the intimidating effect of his gaze, then switched to a different language and asked loudly, "Is there a manager here?"

There were people all around, but no one made a sound.

Countless chaotic thoughts surged within Nie Weiyang, yet even so, numbness and silence surrounded him: most of these people's thoughts were numbness, fear, and despair, while a few were filled with jealousy, greed, and longing, and some were even wondering what they could get in return for everything they had from Nie Weiyang...

This made Nie Weiyang's fingers tap the hilt of his sword involuntarily, and he subconsciously opened the skill list and looked around a few times.

He already possesses group skills, such as [Sanctuary], which he used previously. These include group defense, buffs, and healing skills, but as a paladin, his skill list lacks skills that can remove disease status effects—such skills are only available in the skill tree of healing classes, and otherwise require learning from skill books.

Is there a manager here?

Nie Weiyang patiently asked again, and this time, he heard some noise coming from the shadows of a shed.

After a while, a figure staggered out of the shed. It was a man who looked to be in his forties. He was extremely thin, and his face was filled with lingering fatigue and anxiety. A pair of soft white feathers grew from his ears, which were now drooping slightly due to weakness and tension. Sweat soaked through his yellowed old shirt, forming map-like patterns.

This man didn't look like the locals; he seemed to be of Chinese descent. He leaned against the door of the shack, staring at Nie Weiyang's chin, his knuckles white from the force of his grip, but his voice remained calm, carrying a kind of resolute strength born from desperation:
"Who are you? Where are you from? State your purpose." The man's words were concise and to the point, without any unnecessary pleasantries.

Survival is the only topic here.

Nie Weiyang narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Passerby, Chinese.” Nie Weiyang’s voice was calm, devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the surrounding scorching despair: “See the event marker here? Come and take a look.”

"Take a look?" The man's lips curled into an almost sarcastic smile, but his eyes held more bitterness. "There's nothing to see here. Only people who are about to die and diseases that no one can cure."

"If you're here looking for supplies or to have some fun, I advise you to turn around and leave immediately, while you can still walk."

His words carried a protective hostility, perhaps to protect the survivors in the town, and perhaps to protect this outsider from being drawn into the quagmire as well.

Nie Weiyang's gaze swept over the man's shoulder, across the huddled figures in the shadows of the shed, and further away, a few people carefully feeding patients with scarce clean water.

"Are you Chinese?" he asked in Chinese.

"Hmm?" The man's eyes widened slightly. "You're Chinese?"

“Hmm.” Nie Weiyang nodded. “I’m not a doctor, but I’m a paladin.” He said, his tone calm and reassuring. “Perhaps I can be of some help. But right now, I need to know what happened here.”

He didn't promise a cure, but instead offered a more practical possibility—some appropriate assistance. Of course, this wouldn't come without a price.

In the new world, this is more valuable than empty sympathy.

The man scrutinized Nie Weiyang, his bloodshot eyes, filled with exhaustion, brimming with struggle.

He needed help, any kind of help, but he was also well aware of the danger of letting a wolf into his house. This stranger was extraordinary, maintaining remarkable composure in this situation—he was no ordinary person… but if such a person wanted to do something, it must be something absolutely significant.

The hot wind howled as it passed through the cracks in the wall.

The man quickly stepped aside to make way.

His voice was weak and hoarse:
"I am Lin Shouheng, and I am temporarily in charge of things here."

“If you really want to help, come in and talk. But remember,” he stared intently at Nie Weiyang’s sword-wielding hand, “here, any resource can determine a person’s life or death.”

"If you ultimately decide to leave, just say so and go. Don't waste time or cause any more trouble."

This is a warning, and also a final test.

Nie Weiyang nodded, said nothing more, and stepped into the shadows of the shed.

The smells of herbs and patients filled the air, and the words "[Intertwined with Death]" were shining brightly in his profile.

(End of this chapter)