I, Wang Ha, the Three Red Unparalleled Assassin

If Scáthach hadn't remembered what Alaya had solemnly instructed her to do before she came, she probably would have already rushed into this vast wilderness.

"The third observation universe, a miniature garden?"

The old man of the mountain stepped out of the magic circle. Although he did not show any emotion on the surface, he was obviously very interested in it, having experienced many world travels.

The magic circle behind the three slowly disappeared, and at the same time, a mysterious law from this world descended upon them.

As if sensing something, the old man of the mountain looked up at the incredibly high sky. The ghostly fire that was wrapped around him suddenly rose and exploded, spreading an unprecedentedly terrifying aura that enveloped the surroundings.

Although he did not release any death energy, the surrounding flowers, plants, and trees withered rapidly at a visible speed and died.

Feeling the changes in his body, the old man of the mountain felt an unprecedented sense of ease, as if he had broken free from all the chains that had previously bound and suppressed his power.

"Hmm? This world doesn't restrict the power of those in high positions? That's truly unprecedented boldness."

Although the old man of the mountain was somewhat surprised, he did not delve into it further, since it was a change that was beneficial to him anyway.

"Hmm~"

Scáthach, who had also been freed, let out a soft, relieved sigh, a satisfied smile on her face. The rich, crimson magic stirred up the surrounding air currents, forming several fierce gusts of wind.

She casually stuck the piercing spear into the ground, stood up straight, tilted her head back slightly, and stretched her long, supple, and graceful limbs with her hands crossed and turned upwards.

Not being a battle maniac, Merry didn't care much about how much power she could unleash; in her view, as long as the power was sufficient, that was enough.

Instead of spending the rest of the time honing one's skills and cultivating oneself, it's better to happily and leisurely slack off.

But Mary soon discovered a new problem: her ability to see into the future was now restricted.

No, calling it a restriction isn't entirely accurate.

Instead, his eyes could only see very blurry and brief images, no longer able to see whatever he wanted to see anytime, anywhere, as he did in the original world.

Merry's gaze involuntarily turned to Scáthach, and Scáthach, who also possessed the ability of clairvoyance based on the wisdom of the Demon Realm, seemed to have discovered the same problem.

"So, what exactly is going on in this world? There are no limits to its destructive power, yet there are new restrictions in other areas."

Mary wore a bitter expression, deeply upset that her far-seeing ability had been inexplicably and severely damaged, since she had basically relied on it to swindle people.

It can be said that clairvoyance is Meryl's bread and butter; all other skills like magic and swordsmanship have to take a backseat.

Without her clairvoyance, Mary's life became as dull as a paparazzi's without a hidden camera.

"The spiritual essence of the Thousand-Mile Eye seems to be suppressed. This has led to a weakening of its abilities."

Scáthach's eyes shone with a beautiful light as she used her magic to conduct various experiments and attempts.

"It's very difficult to see the future that's too far away now, but it's still possible to foresee changes a few seconds into the battle."

The old man of the mountain didn't care about these trivial matters. Anyway, he never needed to use his future vision to be clever when fighting. He just grabbed his knife and went to chop.

He looked up at the sun high in the sky again, trying to judge the time, but was surprised to find that the sun seemed to have not moved at all since then.

Before the old man of the mountain could ponder this question, a strong smell of blood, carried by the wind, spread from a distant place to this place, attracting the attention of the three.

"I sensed the presence of death. Such a large number of lives being lost is undoubtedly a sign of war."

The Mountain Elder, who has perfectly integrated the accumulation of three lifetimes, is extremely sensitive to death as the monarch of death. He instantly judged the scale and number of those who perished based on this.

The death toll alone is over 300,000, and the number of wounded is conservatively estimated to be no less. Battles with such brutal casualties can be counted on one's fingers even in the entire history of humankind.

"Has the time come to spread death and wither the green fields?"

The old man of the mountain, leaning on his greatsword, gazed at the distant horizon, his eyes burning with billowing, eerie blue flames, and an endless aura of death emanating from them.

"In the brutal reality of the struggle for and division of the new world, any morality is just empty talk."

Scáthach gently twitched her nose, and her two crimson magic spears twirled and spun in the air, drawing various graceful arcs.

"Although I had expected it, I didn't expect the reality to be even worse than Alaya had described. I really wonder if sending just the three of us was too few people."

The female warrior, who had just been educated by the old man of the mountain, was once again filled with fighting spirit, as if she couldn't wait to rush into the battlefield and fight to her heart's content.

Looking at the two eager-looking guys in front of her, Mary couldn't help but sigh and put her hand to her forehead, feeling that the prospects for this trip were very bleak.

But she didn't say anything to stop it. Instead, she silently raised her hand and touched the long sword hanging at her waist, her eyes becoming sharp and piercing.

As Scáthach said, the Root Will that Alaya conveyed to the three of them couldn't be simpler.

The goal is for them to do everything in their power to establish a foothold in the Type-Moon world within this miniature garden, and to build and develop their strength to participate in this gluttonous feast that drives countless gods and races mad.

This is a magnificent era, one that will surely be recorded in history, an era whose very existence is akin to a myth!

Chapter Sixty-Four: The Beginning of Chaos

In the nameless grassland, layers upon layers of corpses covered the entire ground, and as far as the eye could see, there was not a trace of green belonging to the grass.

Flocks of scavenging vultures circled high in the sky, their high-pitched, piercing cries overlapping, seemingly celebrating their rare feast.

On the ground, the deaths of each corpse were extremely gruesome and horrifying.

Their faces and skin were frighteningly white, and some had even begun to rot, suggesting they weren't killed today.

Their entire bodies were tattered and mangled, as if dozens of sharp blades had pierced through them simultaneously, yet not a single drop of blood flowed from these fatal wounds.

Everyone's eyes were wide open, filled with despair, and their faces were filled with extreme terror, as if they had seen something extremely terrifying before they died.

The old man of the mountain, who had arrived here through teleportation magic, quietly observed the nauseating and chilling scene before him, feeling neither discomfort nor any extra emotional fluctuations.

Perhaps, in his first life as an ordinary person, he might have had nightmares because of this, or even been unable to eat for more than a week.

However, after experiencing the next three lifetimes, as the Lord of Death, he commanded countless zombies and rotting corpses, and his state of mind had long since become as indifferent as a still lake.

Moreover, the old man of the mountain, who is now accustomed to mental meditation, no longer needs sleep, and eating is even more optional.

Looking back on those days now, it's funny. After my first life was transmigrated into a skeleton, I was completely deprived of the basic material comforts of human life.

After all, not only could he not taste it, but after eating it, it would just protrude directly from between his ribs, which made him, who was still very young at the time, particularly distressed, until he gradually got used to it.

When he was born again in human form in his second life, even though his mind was already mature, he couldn't help but cry with joy and wail loudly (as an infant).

Because finally we can have a hot meal, and we can say goodbye to all that nonsense.

For Arthas, who had not yet refined his mind to such a high level, this was undoubtedly like suddenly arriving in the long-awaited paradise from the ascetic life of fasting and abstinence.

It's like when people who are usually restricted from playing games online are suddenly unbanned; it's understandable that they might feel a little excited.

Arthas, still an infant in swaddling clothes, cried and waved his arms for over an hour, almost making the King of Lordaeron think his son was an idiot.

After all, who can cry their eyes out while also having a genuinely happy smile on their face?

Then, after reincarnating into his third life, the old man of the mountain, having gained experience from the previous two lives, became indifferent to everything in the world.

I've enjoyed everything I could and experienced most of what I needed to experience.

From conquering the world with the Great Tomb of Nazarick to leading the Scourge to sweep across and crush the entire continent.

He was exhausted by the complexities of life, filled with deceit and treachery, but after continuous spiritual practice, he achieved complete enlightenment.

The old man of the mountain donned a mask, picked up a greatsword, and became a lone wolf, beginning his journey in this life with unparalleled skills.

In the end, the old man of the mountain, in the secluded valley at the end of his journey, mastered all the skills he had acquired in his three lifetimes, standing at the boundary between life and death, and became the undisputed monarch of death.

Just as Grandpa Mountain was reminiscing about the passionate years of the past, Mary and Scáthach had already stepped forward to examine the body, trying to find some valuable clues.

Having long been accustomed to all kinds of war scenes, Scáthach's pretty face remained unchanged as she stepped into the piled-up corpses, casually kicking aside any limbs or severed arms that blocked her way.

She poked at several strangely shaped corpses with her spear, her sharp, eagle-like eyes not missing any useful traces.

Mary poked at the decaying bones with her staff, a look of disgust on her face, but she was still doing her work diligently.

This made the old man of the mountain glance at Meryl a few more times. He lowered the greatsword he had just raised, somewhat surprised that this lazy fellow hadn't taken the opportunity to slack off.

"There was a very sinister and evil aura. The wounds on each corpse were exactly the same, so they must have been tortured to death with the same weapon."

Scáthach randomly selected more than ten corpses from all directions, and after careful examination and comparison, she came to a conclusion.

"It must be a vampire, otherwise it wouldn't go to the trouble of collecting all the blood."

As she spoke, Meryl squatted down and turned the head of a male corpse that looked to be middle-aged to the side, revealing two tiny holes on his neck.

"This body was much more decomposed than the others, and had fewer fatal wounds, suggesting it was killed before the massacre and died from excessive blood loss."

The old man of the mountain glanced at the corpse in front of Meryl, then looked at the long line of corpses stretching for who knows how far, carefully sensing the dark power permeating the air, and noticed some slight anomalies.

“Not a Dead Apostle. I have fought against some of the so-called Twenty-Seven Ancestors. Although they are all vampires, their strengths are quite different.”

Mary nodded, took out her handkerchief, wiped her hands thoroughly, and then casually threw the handkerchief away.

"The world is different, and some differences are normal, but there are also similar overlapping forces between the two."

As the girl spoke, she stood up, drew her longsword from her waist, and slashed at the corpse in front of her. The holy sword's radiance purified the evil filth.

"Oh dear, our luck is really not good. After all, we were killed by vampires, and after so much time, it's about time for them to turn into zombies, right?"

The golden light of the Star Sword shone on the surrounding corpses, and the bodies that were lying or sprawling suddenly sprang up as if they were alive, running out of the light's range in just a few steps.

The sound from one place carried to the surrounding area and quickly alarmed everyone. Just as Mary had predicted, the corpses that had reached the time for zombification transformed into deadly ghosts and crawled up from the abyss of hell.

"Awoooooo—!" XN

One after another, the corpses staggered to their feet, supporting their tattered and drafty bodies, and roared in unison.

Soon, a zombie army of hundreds of thousands appeared on the grassland, and in the center of the army was the most burly and robust zombie king, who was probably the strongest in the army in life.

The Corpse King wore blood-soaked, tattered, dark black armor. His irisless eyes gleamed with an eerie light, and his disheveled hair obscured his rotten face, which resembled that of a toad.

The fleshy tumors on his face throbbed incessantly, his gaping maw revealing sharp, inhuman teeth, with bits of flesh and dried black blood at the corners of his mouth.

The Corpse King, waving his weapon haphazardly, noticed the three Mountain Elders standing outside the arena. Provocatively, he stretched out his large hand with long, sharp fingernails towards them, and a strange, hoarse laugh came from his mouth.

"Hmph, wandering spirits on the earth? They're nothing but trash I've killed countless times."

Scáthach chuckled softly, raised her hand holding the magic spear and extended it backward, aiming the spear tip at the howling Lich King, intending to first use the Death Thorn Spear to show goodwill.

Chapter Sixty-Five: The Pure Vampire Princess

To Scáthach's surprise, just as her magic was beginning to rise and before she could launch an attack, she was caught off guard.

A heavy knight's lance, brimming with immense crimson magic, crashed down from the sky like a savior descending from heaven upon the zombie army, the violent magical shockwave tearing apart countless zombie soldiers.

The rising dust and smoke spread through the zombie army, and thousands of the already weak zombies were reduced to dust by this sudden attack.

The lance was firmly planted in a large crater within the zombie horde, creating a vacuum within a radius of several hundred meters.