Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

Lyle had been living in constant fear these past few days, as the voices of the Andrei students condemning him grew louder and louder. He felt deeply ashamed and saddened that he had become the very thing he hated most. Although his friends remained as close as ever, Mr. Dark and Mr. Raymond's enthusiasm had increased, and the scholar mentor had only uttered a few verbal complaints, his eyes shining brightly when they visited the dragon's lair, and he expressed deep regret for not being there to witness it.

"Epidemic doctor, epidemic doctor!"

Lyle jumped off the Spinal Wheel and saw the skull stuck in the gap of the spines talking. He took it off, and Nia stretched out her tentacles, intending to crush it.

"Dr. Epidemic Doctor! It's me! The reporter!"

“Mr. Reporter,” Lyle stopped what he was doing, closing the door of the Cup of Extravagance. Nia placed the reporter’s skull on the table and began to deal with her own little cake. She placed the skull on Lyle’s plate, her soul flames facing Lyle’s glasses. “I’m sorry, Mr. Reporter, I have no face to ask for your forgiveness.”

“That’s true, you’ve dismantled me eight times in three days…” the reporter said softly, then changed the subject when he saw Lyle’s face darkening. “You must have your reasons, Doctor! I can help you with any problems you may have!”

“What can the literary society possibly do…” Lyle suddenly remembered that the reporter was a secret agent who had the ability to exchange secrets to obtain information.

"Sir reporter, I'm stuck on my research into intimidation techniques. Can you help me?"

The reporter's spirit flickered. "All difficulties stem from a lack of ability, Dr. Epidemic Prevention. Perhaps it's time for you to level up."

"Promotion?" Lyle gave a wry smile. "To advance to the fourth level of the Lock, you need to join a clan, Mr. Reporter. You know my talent is somewhat special. Being able to fit into my clan is just as difficult as me creating my own clan out of thin air with my abilities."

Lyle had considered advancing to a higher level; he even had some ideas. The power of the first lock granted him the plague, the second lock enhanced his flesh and blood, the third lock strengthened his bones, and the fourth lock should perfectly suit his soul. But… without a clan, he was without a clan, and without a clan, he couldn't advance. The quickest method Lyle could think of was to submit to the Sleepers. That way, he could not only advance to the fourth lock but also become part of the most powerful evil god in this world.

But the reporter remained enigmatic, nothing more than a skull, the clicking of chains echoing in the void, and a ghostly light flickering within the flames of his soul.

"Make a secret deal, Lyle. Mystery will give you what you want."

"Secrecy will not disappoint you."

Chapter 671 Poswa, the Land of Chaos

The rust and brass sky faded as the nascent evil god and the Mystic completed their cryptic deal. Lyle received a coordinate system originating from Andre Academy. This hidden path led to a region, a place, where the key to his ascension to the fourth level of the Locked Realm would lie, and a race suited to his talents.

Fair trade

The reporter's crazed expression seemed to read Lyle's mind, and before falling silent, he uttered those words. The reporter, now back under the tablecloth, stared at Lyle through the two holes in the checkered pattern for a few seconds. He didn't speak, quickly leaving the goblet of extravagance, as if some terror was driving him away.

Lyle pursed his lips, recalling the secret he had just discovered, feeling a strange unease.

The price was too low.

Indeed, all he received were approximate coordinates, lacking specific information. All the details were shrouded in mystery, with uncertainty and danger lurking within. But Lyle felt he had gained something. Perhaps the Andrei lich wasn't particularly interested in magic lock levels, judging people based on knowledge rather than strength. But if these coordinates held the secret to the ascension of an evil god, it would undoubtedly come at a great cost.

Lyle traded the knowledge of evil gods for the knowledge of evil gods. At the moment the hidden conditions were triggered, as the hands of the brass clock moved and the rusty chains rattled, Lyle felt his thoughts and lips no longer under anyone's control, and he involuntarily uttered the secret.

Looking back, it shouldn't have been a big deal. More than anything, there was relief at seeing the path ahead. Lyle didn't linger and used the teleportation array to return to Naslan. The coordinates were in the southwest, roughly beyond the territory Lyle had reached. Lyle needed more information; perhaps the wandering traveler Ivan could provide the answers.

After Lyle enjoyed dinner in Naslan, Nia was playing with Shiba Inu on the other side of the lake.

Beatrice yawned, holding a wine glass as she sat in the castle courtyard. A ghostly maid combed her long hair, and the gradually brightening moonlight shone on her bare skin. The vampire, slowly regaining consciousness, shook the bell and watched the ghostly coachman riding on frost and Lyle conversing softly.

The wanderer, Ivan, stood on the frozen river, staring at the small dot marked on the map. He was first surprised, then looked puzzled, and finally gave a somewhat uncertain answer.

“That should be the vague boundary of Poswa, the untouched forests. Although I have chased winter all over the world, unfortunately, I have never set foot in that area, and…”

"Posuwa is a cursed place, my master."

As if recalling something, the Frost Ghost's ghostly horse, which was of one mind with him, neighed twice, and the frozen lake expanded slightly.

"There was once a complete country in that region, Posuwa, which was relatively stable and intact. Later, the people there seemed to be bewitched. Their fighting destroyed their country and homes, and all the humans were left with only two professions: bandits and refugees. Since then, no complete towns or villages have existed, and no new political entity has been born to claim ownership of that region. The name of the destroyed country of Posuwa has been used to this day."

"The land there is cursed. Anyone who sets foot on Posuwa's soil will have their heart corrupted. The wicked will become frenzied and turn into ruthless persecutors, while the kind-hearted will become cowardly, lacking the courage to resist and fleeing like sheep before a lion. No one likes it there. In time, only demons in human skin remain... This is just a metaphor."

Lyle listened calmly, unsurprised, without even raising an eyebrow. This extremely vile place was a perfect match for the ascension of an evil god; Ivan's repeated emphasis on its ugliness only strengthened Lyle's confidence.

"Ivan, how has Posuwa affected you? Is the evil there only targeting humans, or all of them?"

"All I do is wander through Posuwa. I have no time to appreciate the beautiful scenery along the way. I only feel restless. There are almost no races that are unaffected by it, my master. It is said that researchers from Andrei have also set foot there, but they did not stay for long. Instead, they made Posuwa an unwelcome wasteland where no one can find peace, not even liches."

Lyle pondered for a moment, deciding that Posuwa's curse shouldn't have much of an impact on his mind. According to Ivan's description, there weren't many casters of Posuwa's spell, and nobody liked the irritation that went straight to their head, so he only needed to be wary of some crazed bandits.

Lyle returned to Naslan Castle and handed a magical letter to the ghost maid. His message of temporary departure would be received by the blue dragon Christo and relayed to several people in the Dream Forest. The Dream Kingdom had officially launched, and it was said that the adventurers newly entering the dungeon were in an uproar, with countless people suffering terribly at the hands of the Three Pigs Dragon Slayer Formation. The novelty should last for a while. He never had to worry about Andrei; the highly independent Necromancer's Figurine Company hardly listened to him. The red dragon's idol evangelism was in full swing, the green dragon was lost in sleepwalking, the black dragon's conspiracy was still brewing, the white dragon was slacking off, and the blue dragon was on the verge of death from overwork.

Everything was in perfect order.

That very night, Lyle boarded the Wanderer's carriage and headed toward Posuwa. Without any companions, the three Naslan sisters believed that Lyle would not encounter any insurmountable trouble in Posuwa.

They traveled through the darkness, with Ivan as a good companion. Their earlier interactions hadn't been fully realized due to the large group, but when Lyle entered the ghost wagon alone, Ivan would talk to him while driving, sharing glimpses of his long journey. They traversed the depths of the forest in the night, the frost they stirred awakening the nightmares of wild beasts; they were like phantoms, leaving only a chill in their wake.

"Except in winter, I usually avoid human settlements, hahaha. After all, having been a living person for decades, I still remember that bone-chilling cold. Sometimes, there are young men who stay up late and lean on their windowsills, gazing at the starry sky in a daze. They are as warm as furnaces themselves, and their inner thoughts are brighter than the stars. I will climb onto their roofs late at night, showing only half of my shadow, and push aside the snow so that the falling snow chunks fall into their wide-open mouths in surprise. That's really fun."

Lyle suddenly realized.

"No wonder there are rumors in the City of Wanderings that on Christmas night, Satan pulling a carriage will tear off their roofs."

Chapter 672 Wall

Perhaps the blizzard brought by the wanderers was too intense; amidst the continuous winter snow, Lyle watched as the distant, undulating mountains receded like waves. Ice flowers bloomed, and time seemed to slow down. In the third light that illuminated the silvery dawn, Lyle knew they had arrived at Posuwa.

It was as if a dull thud had struck his heart; something sinister and unseen, seeping through the barren soil, climbed the frost-covered frame of the speeding carriage, and crawled onto Lyle's body. Nia extended her tentacles, lashing the air aimlessly, and the ominous shadow spread beneath Lyle's feet, instantly covering the translucent carriage floor in darkness.

The world outside the window began to lurch, and the four ghostly horses neighed uncontrollably, but thankfully the reins brought them back into control. Once calm returned, Ivan turned back with a complaining tone, "My master, please withdraw your influence. Posuwa's curse and your corruption are truly adding insult to injury for us."

“Sorry, Ivan.” Lyle soothed the small tendrils that had peeked out from his sleeve as the wriggling tentacles retreated into his robes, his attention shifting to the shadows that were beginning to recede beneath his feet. The pure darkness was like a mirror, in which Lyle saw the reflection of the Omen huddled. He grasped the invisible energy of what Posuwa called the “curse,” struggling, assimilating, and disintegrating under the Omen’s control.

Ivan's carriage returned to its original state, and the ominous sign whispered the scent of this power in Lyle's ear.

[The power of shared origins, fragments of the slumbering.]

The eerie curse buried beneath the land of Posuwa is also a part of the sleeping god. The war against the gods, led by the dragon priests of the Dragon Age, dismantled the ancient lords into fragments, which were buried and sealed away in various regions.

Lyle stared at the ground, slightly flicking his fingertips. A dark mist slowly rose, and he stopped his dangerous little movement. Lyle muttered to himself, "Although this isn't the first time I've come into contact with the power of the Sleepers, this is the first time I've experienced such severe erosion. It only caused mental frenzy. It seems the sealed part isn't that important."

The frost stopped, and Lyle stepped down from the carriage, looking at the dust rising in the distance, like a dancing earthen dragon.

“A weak fragment, without a dragon priest to guard it, is poisoning a piece of land…” Lyle rolled his eyes, a gloomy look flashing across his face. “I would like to devour the power of the Sleeper, but I am not qualified.”

I need to get to that coordinate quickly. Perhaps the mystery hidden there can help me advance further, and only then will I be able to lift Podova's curse.

Crackling, snapping.

Fine cracks appeared on the ice flowers that had formed at his feet, and one by one they shattered, withering away like real flowers. Ivan and his carriage experienced a faint distortion, as if a signal had been lost. The Wanderer placed one hand on his chest and gave a curt bow.

“My master, I will no longer be able to assist you on the journey ahead. This time, the curse of Poswa has a greater impact on me. If I continue deeper, I may very well lose my way. I am very sorry.”

Lyle waved his hand in understanding, suggesting that the Wanderer's poor condition this time might be mainly due to his own actions. Sensing the corrosive power of the evil god Poswa, his body automatically retaliated. Ivan had endured two profound acts of spiritual corruption; Lyle would have been surprised if he hadn't shown signs of weakness, as vengeful spirits without a physical vessel are inherently most susceptible to such influences.

“It’s good that we’ve gotten this far, Ivan. Don’t worry, I’ll establish a connection to the skeletal portal as soon as I find the place. If you feel any discomfort in your spirit, leave here immediately. I can make it on my own.”

Ivan's bow became even more respectful and humble, and his body gradually calmed down.

“Naslan’s strength is not as weak as mine, my master. When you venture deeper into Posuva, if you encounter trouble, your sworn servant, the Warseeker Vol, is wandering this land. Go to the heart of the turmoil and find him; he will obey your commands, just as I have.” Ivan looked up, snowflakes falling from the corner of his mouth. “He was once Naslan’s infantry captain, and even in death he continued his work of fighting. He has stayed in Posuva for over a decade, and is probably insane now. But do not worry, even a madman will obey his master’s orders.”

Vol, Naslan's servant, a vengeful spirit who had slaughtered his way through the battlefield. It didn't sound like a good option, Lyle said with a forced but polite smile.

"That gentleman probably doesn't recognize me. Do I need to show any token of identification? The seal Ariana gave me? Or this pocket watch Beatrice gave me?"

The hesitant man shook his head, pulled on the reins, and turned the carriage around.

"All the ghosts of Naslan can smell your fragrance; it is the mark of someone close to Naslan's daughter. Don't try it yourself, dear master; your nose is not that sensitive. That is the scent of a soul-stealer, a strange fragrance of the soul."

Ivan left, placing Lyle on the border of Posuva—a location not chosen arbitrarily. Lyle discovered it was incredibly close to the epicenter of the turmoil; the visible plume of smoke rose straight upwards. If he wasn't mistaken, the Naslan groom, even unwell, had carefully entrusted Lyle to his colleague; Lyle only needed to walk a few steps to encounter the madman, Vol.

Why not? It didn't seem far and wouldn't take much time. After passing a mound of earth at its highest point, and a dead tree broken in the middle, Lyle reached the edge of the highlands and saw the yellowish-brown ruins and the strange creature in the center, which was probably the work of the Warseeker, Vol.

The massive iron sword trailing behind him further shattered the collapsed earthen walls as it turned. His body was twisted, like a condemned prisoner toiling in hard labor. Dark red, unruly hair reached his waist, covering most of his swollen form. The legless spirit floated half a foot off the ground. His black upper body resembled a floating mass. He was the most materialized spirit Lyle had ever seen, like a flesh-and-blood creation that had just escaped from Andrei's laboratory. A hazy, blood-red mist billowed around him like a cloak, and meaningless growls echoed through the ruins.

The unusual spirit would occasionally pause, like a blood-soaked sculpture gazing into the distance, before continuing its wandering.

Lyle had thought it was slow until he stepped into the spirit's line of sight. Like stepping on an explosive rune, flipping a switch, the evil spirit abruptly raised its head, rotating 180 degrees to face Lyle directly, its murky, bloodshot eyes meeting Lyle's. It transformed into a blood-soaked, foul-smelling storm, kicking up dust as it charged towards Lyle.

"Eeeeeee! Eeeeeee!" With a terrifying scream, it twisted its body, dragged the greatsword, and within seconds filled Lyle's field of vision. The broken, foul-smelling iron sword was raised high above its head and slammed down towards Lyle's skull.

Lyle shifted to the side, and the bone spikes that shot out from his side pierced the evil spirit's body first, splitting apart to tear the spirit apart. An even more horrifying scream erupted from the evil spirit's body, and screaming human faces emerged from its uneven chest and abdomen, twisting, writhing, screaming and howling, as if trapped inside the outer cloak of the spirit.

Physical attacks were almost ineffective; the cursed spell provoked a counterattack equivalent to a soul-piercing scream. Lyle's head tilted to the left, and the metallic wind from the iron sword struck the ground less than ten centimeters away, sending sand and gravel flying into Lyle's face, cutting him. The blackness in his pupils expanded; the ominous sign was about to begin its second round.

The evil spirit stopped, its head lolling forward, its nose twitching, its filthy gaze fixed on Lyle's face, unfocused.

“…Master? Wall…Master?”

Lyle spat, and the shadow in his eyes disappeared.

"He took advantage of the situation and then stopped fighting. What a damn clever little devil."

Chapter 673 Things Going Downwards

Other sounds could be heard from the bloated spirit before him, like the rustling of leather, and indistinct murmurs through something. Vole's head was bowed, seemingly certain that the scent belonged to his master. Lyle stared at the blood-red, almost unresponsive eyes. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but the soul Lyle saw in Vole was locked away. He couldn't imagine what kind of pact he had made in Naslan, allowing the servant's will to continue to be carried out within this broken soul.

The panting sound, like that of a wild beast, continued three times in front of Lyle. The evil spirit's expression was contorted, and its spirit body was convulsing, as if it was having great difficulty even maintaining a crouching position.

“Um… Mr. Wall, there’s no need to be so respectful. Just be yourself.”

As soon as the voice fell, the evil spirit suddenly raised its head, and a scream came from its spirit body. Human faces appeared in its body, which twisted and spun like a rope. The only part that could be called humanoid was its head, which was staring straight at Lyle.

It's gotten even more terrifying, Lyle thought. With such an appearance, it wouldn't seem out of place mixed in with Mr. Scarlet's collection.

Let's see if we can communicate normally first.

“I am Lyle, and I am now a member of Naslan.”

His body paused for a moment when he heard the name Naslan, then continued to twist.

“Master…Wal…can kill…but must…eat.”

"what……"

Rather than introducing itself, it emphasized its purpose first: the Warseeker is a pure war machine, with no other talents than fighting. The twisted spirit before it growled uneasily, as if anger was stuck in its throat, emitting suppressed sounds.

The feelings of unease and so on are actually Lyle's inner imagination, a habit he developed in Andrei. When faced with an overly distorted and unobservable appearance, Lyle habitually adds embellishments to his understanding—a form of self-protective delusion.

The reality was that the twisted Wall stared intently at Lyle, letting out a roar.

Wall's combat prowess is of little use to Lyle, whether it's finding the coordinates or taking action after finding the place. His bloody aura is too creepy and offers no concealment, which will definitely alert the enemy.

Lyle stroked his chin, looking at the demon's abnormal body. "This is... a Soul Reaper?"

The faces that appeared on Vol's body seemed to be souls that Vol had killed and devoured, seizing the souls of others to strengthen themselves, similar to Helena's soul incarnation. But this was definitely a failed attempt.