Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

Jeremiah put his scarf back on, hoping to keep his chapped lips from being exposed to the biting wind. The thirty seconds he had to rehydrate seemed to disappear, and his parched throat continued its feeble protests. Jeremiah's thoughts drifted away, rising and falling with the sound of his scattered footsteps.

Posuwa's terrain was deteriorating, and guides like him had to find easier, less strenuous routes for the group, away from the expanding soft sands that were as restrictive to the cart wheels as a swamp. The exiles couldn't slow down; slowing down meant certain death, with their "former brethren" trailing behind. Jeremiah even began to envy the corrupted demons who had lost their way. Their cursed bodies were immune to hunger and fatigue, and their agility, defying terrain, and the power granted by their demonic possession were terrifying. Because of these demons, the exiles were constantly on the move, living in perpetual fear.

Guides like Jeremiah are among the most weary exiles. Guides need knowledge; they can't just worry about what to eat each day. For the team to thrive, guides need a thorough understanding of the land beneath their feet: the dying soil, the escalating desertification, the shrinking routes and safe havens. The devastating news they glean with their own eyes and hands constantly builds a despair that weighs heavily on their exhausted nerves. It's like holding a depleted oxygen tank; the harder they try to breathe, the more suffocated they feel.

The exiles will eventually disappear; the land of Poswa has withdrawn its mercy. The more they explore in search of survival, the closer they feel to the end. Perhaps it was this despair that drove Jeremiah to believe in Rosa's hope. That optimistic and positive girl—Jeremiah felt Rosa was out of place in this land, and her naive and absurd ideas created a charming contrast to this brilliant guide.

Jeremiah believed Rosa wouldn't return. This was a pragmatic judgment made by a pessimistic leader; alone in Posouva, Jeremiah couldn't think of any other outcome. Jeremiah liked Rosa; it was a feeling buried long ago, because he had once naively asked his father if they belonged to some fallen noble family, the kind worthy of royalty. His father's answer disappointed him, but it was within his expectations, as was his consistent pessimism. Jeremiah loathed his own pessimism, because it always coincided with reality.

Do I want Rosa to come back?

Jeremiah thus questioned his own heart.

No, I don't want that.

He looked at the bracelet on his wrist, recalling the way those people returned—nightmares that had made "welcome home" a taboo word among exiles. He didn't want to face Rosa like that; perhaps she was already gone, sleeping in a cradle of flowers and honey, her tightly pressed lips pink, kept moist by dew. The best guess was that she had left, escaped the exiles, and was living alone in a foreign land with abundant food. Yes, Jeremiah saw exiles as a burden, and he considered the responsibility of a guide a torment. The more he loved that girl, the more he wished she would leave.

"She's a princess, why would she take care of a bunch of peasants who are a burden to her?"

Jeremiah knew that the best was the most unrealistic, and once again, he hated his own judgment. He looked back at the fleeing exiles, their hungry compatriots with blank expressions. More than sympathy welled up with sorrow; he would carry his promise to her, lead everyone onward, until she returned, or until they stopped.

Jeremiah had long since stopped believing in God, and he never expected Rosa to return.

Therefore, Jeremiah's emotions were most intense when Rosa returned.

His eyes were wide open. The scarf covering his mouth and nose had slipped down, and sand clung to the wound on his lip, unnoticed by Jeremiah. His eyes were filled with Rosa's image: she wore a green leather skirt, her face as smooth as milk, her flowing hair sparkling like stars. She sat on a carriage woven from vines, accompanied by rain and rainbows, the grass beneath her feet blooming with flowers, the shade forming her canopy. Like a princess from a fairy tale, surrounded by a group of magical elves.

His mind went completely blank; pessimistic thoughts, the gap between them, and even anything else were forgotten. Jeremiah was filled with a surge of joy, and praise slipped out.

"My God, you are so beautiful."

Rosa was somewhat surprised by Jeremiah's straightforward praise; he had never complimented her appearance before, but it didn't feel bad. Rosa smiled and secretly thanked Phantom for the travel arrangements. Although Jeremiah was just grinning foolishly, Rosa responded to him as usual.

"I'm back." Rosa took her bag out from the lush grass, slung it on her back, and bumped into Jeremiah. "I found help, these phantoms." The massive phantoms nodded in greeting, and the exile with the interesting expression realized that these were not just background effects of Rosa.

Jeremiah quickly regained his composure, but his face was still flushed. He looked away from Rosa's face, embarrassed, and said in a slightly hesitant tone, "I knew you could do it."

"Yes, yes," the girl replied happily, taking a full water pouch from her bag and handing it to Jeremiah. "Gods exist, Jeremiah. Not only are there gods who protect us, but there are other gods as well. Do you believe now?"

Jeremiah pushed the water pouch back, stubbornly replying, "I'm not thirsty. I believe it's the royal family's blessings that have protected future generations. If it weren't for Rosa, no one else could have done this."

Jeremiah's highly tactful reply stunned Rosa. She opened the water pouch in annoyance and shoved it into his mouth. "You can't be disrespectful to the gods, you idiot. Stop being so witty."

Jeremiah did not answer; his throat was filled with nectar, which was more attractive to his body than Rosa.

The Phantom distributed food and water to all the exiles, who, numb in body and mind, only remembered to cheer at the last moment. They praised Rosa's name, secretly adding the suffix "Your Highness." Although Rosa repeatedly emphasized that it was the Phantom's doing, the crowd did not change their story, but instead added the Phantom's name. The Phantom's people enjoyed the pleasure of helping others, without any other thoughts. Rosa felt somewhat uncomfortable and could not force these excited and grateful people to obey.

Rosa delivered a moving speech, announcing her plan to scale the cliff. Her newfound prestige quickly convinced all the exiles to agree to this seemingly absurd and impossible idea—so quickly, without even a second thought. After the phantom helped redirect the cargo, Rosa nervously asked Jeremiah, "Was I too reckless?"

Rosa felt it was all too easy and began to back down.

After eating and drinking to their hearts' content, Jeremiah said, "You have given us hope, and we are willing to believe in you, especially since you are wearing a princess dress." Even he, who often disagrees with Rosa, was almost swayed by her values. The exiles are now completely devoted to seeing King Vincent.

The seeds of hope were sown in the hearts of the exiles by Rosa and by the phantom.

Now, all they needed to worry about were the hound-like demons. Jeremiah was quite confident about this; as long as their numbers didn't overwhelm them or cause an encirclement, or if there were any unexpected circumstances, his group would definitely reach their destination. Soon, Jeremiah's pessimism took over again. The demons' recent restlessness was obvious to all, and madness was gathering in Posuwa. The pre-storm atmosphere weighed heavily on his mind.

Jeremiah was prepared for losses. Caught in the clutches of those demons, the exiles had no choice but to abandon some and continue their escape. It was a desperate measure, their only way to survive. They could not resist, for the curse of the earth was ever-present.

A week later, they hadn't even seen a trace of the demon.

Jeremiah exclaimed in disbelief, "Impossible! My bracelet has been giving me warnings repeatedly, yet not a single demon has attacked the group." He looked at Rosa at the head of the group, his heart pounding.

"I now believe in God."

Chapter 769 The Darkening Process

The being revered by Jeremiah was in a bad mood. He sat on the cold steps, slowly pressing his index finger to his temple, his gloomy expression accompanied by clear clenching of his teeth. Lyle opened his eyes; a layer of ground had been lifted up before him. After the phantom disappeared, the bare paradise reminded him of Cassandra's impoverished little cabin.

The psychological gap caused the Lord of Illusions to constantly complain. His consciousness was connected to the mental network, experiencing the joy and excitement of the phantoms, while his inner loneliness tolled like a relentless alarm clock. By switching the mental connection to one-way transmission, Lyle isolated his negative energy to avoid affecting the children who had traveled far away.

"You are fleeing a disaster, not on a picnic!"

For a week, the mixed group of Phantoms and exiles moved about, stopping frequently to enjoy food and spring water, singing and dancing, with beautiful music constantly playing in their mental networks. Lyle concluded that the Phantoms lacked a sense of urgency; while they supported the exiles, they didn't provide the crucial element of speed, but rather aspects related to quality of life. The Phantoms were quite adept at serving others, and Nia, who shared Lyle's view, watched helplessly as they shared delicious food with the exiles—food that should have ended up in her stomach—for a whole week. This caused Nia's mood to mirror Lyle's; while Lyle monitored the Phantoms, she would hide to the side, angrily biting her nails.

The reason the Phantom Clan became complacent and somewhat lax was Lyle himself. On the land of Poswa, beyond the sight of the Phantoms and Exiles, the resurrected dead clashed with the Fallen Demons. Having gained the respect of the Phantom Clan and forged closer ties, Lyle's four-chain abilities were greatly enhanced, along with his corresponding spiritual level, granting him the ability to remotely control and create the undead. In the lands traversed by the Phantom Clan, Lyle's will seeped into the earth, awakening the destroyed corpses. Poswa, ravaged by war, was an ideal graveyard, and Lyle easily raised an army of the dead.

These skeletons hadn't undergone any spirit-summoning modifications, possessing only the basic abilities of the undead. However, their numbers were vast, and Lyle's newly enhanced spirit allowed him to issue precise commands to these direct servants. While not yet precise enough to command a single undead to perform the martial arts of the Bone Spirit-summoning course, Lyle could still make some simple movements appear impressive. After the legion of the dead faced the demon army, the demons pursuing malice all halted in their tracks.

Because of them, they were embraced by skeletons. Their joints were locked, their legs bound, their heads pinned by flared ribs, or their eyes gouged out by finger bones. The demons, bound by curses, could ignore physical damage and become tireless butchers. The undead also suffered virtually no loss, and there were many more of them—one, two, three… Each demon was bound into a ball by multiple skeletons. Even when they roared inhumanly in anger, less than a second after opening their mouths, charred thigh bones pierced their throats.

The fallen daemons struggled and howled, sinking into the bone mass, unable to move an inch. All their soul flames burned the same color; Andrei's Dark Star carried out its atrocities in Posuwa. Although beheading would have been more convenient, the fallen daemons did not possess the immortality of liches; they were merely abnormal humans, only slightly stronger than ordinary people.

Lyle rejected the simplistic approach. After all, it was he who had stopped the Warseeker Wall from his slaughter, and it would be contrary to his original intention to have his subordinates lay down their weapons. Lyle understood that allowing these fallen ones to live meant the possibility of trouble, but he didn't want to be a hypocrite.

"But, seven days and seven nights of being controlled by the dead, you guys are really something." Lyle had never imagined that the exiles' migration would take a week, and they were only halfway there. For those seven days, Lyle's magic and spirit had been constantly depleted, Nia had been starving, and he walked through the empty courtyard, breathing in the cold wind and basking in the scorching sun. The exiles enjoyed delicious food and shade, even the fallen demons were cuddling with the undead, while he alone remained in the paradise like an empty-nest old man, all the laughter and noise belonging to others. A constant sense of loneliness welled up within him, and whenever Lyle thought of this, his blood boiled, and he felt an urge to rush over in his Spinal Wheel and slap each of them, to teach Phantom what it meant to flee.

This impulsive thought was quickly dismissed. Phantom's behavior was immature and naive, but what was wrong with that? Lyle was a manager who only knew how to spoil his subordinates. His habit towards his subordinates and juniors was to completely tolerate them and not let them suffer any harm, believing that only he could handle things.

The Phantom believes exiles need flowers and song; the Phantom believes exile is a journey to a land of milk and honey; the Phantom believes the world is beautiful and pure. Lyle will support them, shutting out flames and wails, hiding ashes and wounds, creating a world without sorrow, forging a fence to protect the Phantom, a paradise for the Phantom. To protect the pure and good Phantom, they don't want to grow, so they don't need to grow. The nascent evil god will face defilement, but that doesn't affect his protection of inner purity.

So Lyle carefully hid outside the world of the phantoms, trying his best to eliminate his influence. He made the phantoms believe that they had independently helped the exiles, and that their leader, standing trustingly in Paradise, gave the returning phantoms a simple smile.

The cold wind gradually calmed Lyle's mood. The frost-covered frame of the carriage came into view. The Wanderer Ivan took off his hat and bowed to the imposing Phantom Leader.

"Greetings from Naslanto, sir."

Lyle nodded slightly, without removing his fingers from his temple.

"Mr. Lyle, where did the other phantoms go?" Ivan asked about the changes in the park; in less than half a month, it seemed to have changed a lot.

“They have left, temporarily. My people have found their own way, they have reached out to the victims, and they are about to lead that group up the cliffs southeast of Posuva.”

"Climb over the southeast cliffs? Oh, the highlands where the earth dragon occupies the top?" Ivan nodded knowingly. He was familiar with that place; he had passed through it a few times.

His words made Lyle unable to remain calm any longer.

"Earth dragon? What is that? There's a dragon there?!" Lyle stared at Ivan, his pure black pupils filled with astonishment and coldness.

"Earth dragons are reptiles that have exhibited atavism. After the return of the dragons, a dragon plague broke out across the world. Dragon blood factors began to take effect, and many close relatives of dragons were changing." Lylebe Evan understood the reason better than anyone else, because he had personally resurrected the Father of Dragons, and the Dragon Master later handled the related work of the dragon plague. Because the dragon blood had turned them into powerful and insane monsters, the Dragon Father, in order to maintain his pact with the Holy Light, would naturally exterminate those dragonized beasts that approached human territory. In accordance with the Dragon Master's personal preferences, those close relatives of dragons who lived far from human villages and in remote forests were protected and preserved.

So the earth dragon still exists, because the southeast cliffs have never been set foot on by humans before.

"I'll handle it." Without hesitation, Lyle immediately set off to deal with the earth dragon. Even with dragon blood factors, the earth dragon was still an uncivilized beast. When it encountered humans, there was no doubt that shell-less primates would be its favorite prey.

Ivan pulled the carriage aside to make way and quietly reminded Lyle.

“Mr. Lyle, you are now somewhat similar to Wall; the same power has entangled you.”

Lyle was slightly taken aback, realizing that his unusual impulsiveness and irritability these past few days weren't entirely his own doing. The ominous shadow spiraled upwards, tearing some black, ominous aura from Lyle, perfectly matching the abnormal aura emanating from the Fallen Demon.

The malice of the evil god, the curse of the land of Poswa, have found Lyle.

[The instinct to do evil has drawn Triton's malice to you.]

The ominous aura that could drive ordinary people mad and bloodthirsty, for Lyle it only made him impulsive and irritable. The undead legion’s obstruction of the fallen demons was also seen as a form of resistance. Lyle found the source of the malice of the gods buried in the earth.

“Just one self-psychoanalysis is enough to get rid of the malice…” Lyle was certain that the malice extracted by the [mystery] would not harm him. Instead of removing the taint of malice, Lyle left the paradise hastily, carrying this nameless fire within him.

"Thank you for reminding me, Ivan."

“You are more suitable than Wall, Mr. Lyle.”

Chapter 770 Earth Dragon

Tranquil and gentle, like a drowsy autumn harvest, even the air is filled with a sweet aroma mixed with fruit.

The trees are sparse but their branches and leaves are lush, and a forest avenue is bathed in sunlight, its surface gleaming with gold. The soil is soft, and you can feel the undulations under your feet with every step.

The figure standing in the middle of the avenue sighed, took off his mask, and exhaled a cold wind from his mouth.

"It does seem to be a suitable place to settle down. So, where is the earth dragon?"

They paused with each step, gazing around, the slight vibrations causing the ground to undulate gently. Lost in the warm atmosphere, the figures remained oblivious to the threat lurking beneath their feet.

A gaping maw burst from the earth, carrying with it shattered rocks and soil, and clamped its jaws firmly onto Lyle's body. The reptilian teeth, due to the terrifying force of the bite, were embedded in his flesh and etched into his bones. A foul breath and spurting blood erupted simultaneously, and his agonizing screams caused the camphor trees on both sides to sway and dance in the rain of blood.

Black and red tentacles emerged from the wound, their pale white bony claws stabbing fiercely towards the earth dragon's eyes. In an instant, sparks flew like metal clashing, and the earth dragon's tightly closed eyelids blocked Nia's attack. The iron-hard eyelids were not pierced by Nia's claws, but the pain of the impact successfully enraged the earth dragon.

Without letting go, the earth dragon raised its jaws high, along with the shattered Lyle inside its mouth, and slammed it down like a hammer.

A deafening roar, the cracking of bones—teeth piercing the leg bone, which snapped at that moment, the distorted noise shooting up the spine and into the brain. The body was shattered; before the fear could even escape its grasp, the final mental pressure shattered the body's survival instinct.

The dragon's might, the primal oppression, caused the creature's consciousness to collapse, and even the tentacles that had just organized a counterattack dissipated under this pressure.

With its head scales closed, ignoring the noise of the tentacles attacking its body, the earth dragon opened its sharp claws, pressed down on the rampaging tentacles, and swung its head to tear them apart forcefully.

The human body and tentacles were completely sealed off, and the blood-stained bones pulled out made the meat in the earth dragon's mouth even softer than the tentacles.

It looked like a hybrid of a crocodile and a lizard. Ignoring the twitching black flesh beneath its claws, the earth dragon slowly retreated with its prey. Instinct told it that everything edible was already in its mouth.

With a flick of its tail, the scales rustled like bells, releasing a sweet neurotoxin into the air that masked the smell of blood. Satisfied, the earth dragon cleaned its hunting ground once more and crawled into its burrow.

A perfect hunt.

It was thinking to itself.

He didn't know when it started, but his strength suddenly increased dramatically, making him much more imposing, and his hunting methods also became more diverse. In particular, his dragon might, this newly acquired power, was invincible, and he quickly became the overlord of this territory.

Having shed its former vulnerability, it is now an earth dragon. Yes, the barren knowledge awakening within its bloodline reminded it of this name. It is, without a doubt, a powerful dragon.

The earth dragon swung its tail, sweeping away branches that had grown out of its enclosure. It liked sunlight to shine directly into its cave and had an unusual obsession with cleanliness.

With prey dwindling, its sudden power had disrupted the local biosphere; its appetite had taken over, and its exhilarating hunts had wiped out all large creatures. Now, it was forced to confront the dire situation of food scarcity.

Should we hunt appropriately for more food...? Well, I'll control my diet once the exiles arrive.

Exiles...exiles?! What are those?

Food chains? Ecosystems?! Responsible fishing?! Why am I thinking about these things?!

This...knowledge? It's not mine!!!

Who's in my head?!

"Oh dear, you finally figured it out? Although from your personal perspective, the timing is really unfortunate." A relaxed voice rang in its mind. Before the earth dragon could expel the foreign object from its mind, it felt itself being grabbed and "pulled" out of the earth dragon's body.

A throbbing, clenched heart and a shattering, excruciating pain gripped the earth dragon, yet it stared at its own body, unresponsive. Its severed consciousness, suspended in a third-person perspective on an invisible, sinister network, observed its own flesh.

The illusion was dispelled, and the still-shaken consciousness witnessed its true self.