Azure Scepter

“You always call me an idiot! Now let’s see who the idiot is! Die!” The servant, Hod, grinned maliciously as he raised his longsword and then brought it down hard.

Blood splattered.

The knight's convulsions stopped abruptly, and a pool of blood spread beneath him.

The servant slowly raised his head, his sickly, chaotic eyes staring straight at Trier.

"Why don't you just be my scapegoat? Why!" the servant muttered to himself, raising his longsword again with a calm and bloodthirsty smile on his face. "But you're unlucky. I was planning to lure them into an ambush, but I ended up running into you by accident. Hehehe."

"You all think I'm a fool, but you've all been completely fooled by this fool!"

“You really fooled me at the hotel—because I simply can’t comprehend that there are actually such stupid creatures as you in the world! I’m very curious if you even have 5 points of intelligence; most intelligent animals are smarter than you!” Trier said rapidly.

[Taunting a resounding success! Your taunting ability has been enhanced by +3!]

The taunt hit the bullseye. Although Huo couldn't understand what 5 points of intelligence meant, it was still not a compliment. His face visibly flushed red, and then he roared like a wild beast: "I'm not stupid! Die!"

The servant charged forward in disarray, his sword slashing crookedly toward Trier's head.

"boom!"

Amidst the clash of steel and sparks, the paladin's sword flashed, transforming into a flat slice at the moment the blades collided. The longsword, trailing sparks, swiftly slashed towards the attendant's forearm like a ruthless viper.

The servant tried to retaliate, but Trier's longsword firmly blocked his power and sword path.

Just as he was about to sever the servant's forearm, Trier's blade suddenly paused, then its cold reflection fluttered and turned, and scorching sparks flew towards the servant's eyes along with the whistling blade.

There is no way to avoid it!

The servant instinctively closed his eyes.

Just as he was about to shatter the servant's eyes, Trier's blade came to a sudden stop and turned for the third time. He lunged forward, and the rusty longsword instantly transformed from a slash to a cleave, the cold steel severing the servant's carotid artery.

"Pfft!"

Blood gushed out dramatically toward the blade, the wound on his neck spraying out glaring crimson everywhere like a faucet.

The servant dropped his sword in terror, clutched his neck in bewilderment, looked down at his blood-stained hands, and then staggered back.

"Save...save me..." He looked up at the paladin opposite him, and warm tears streamed down his face uncontrollably.

"Useless." Seeing the other party's ugly state, Trier felt a sense of boredom. He took a half step back to regroup, then slung his longsword over his shoulder and assumed a standard ready stance for a furious attack.

"No... I was wrong!"

"Due to the effects of the vagus nerve, the massive bleeding in your neck will soon become intermittent. But even so, the enormous bleeding will quickly cause you to lose consciousness, and then you will collapse to the ground and drown in your own blood." A sinister whisper sounded in the servant's ear. "This kind of death is slow and painful, a fitting end for you. However, the necromancer who cast the spell may possess healing spells, and if left unattended, you might get up again and wreak havoc, so I've decided to send you on your way."

[Intimidation successful, intimidation +1]

The rapid, cold, and obscure whispers completely shattered the servant's psychological defenses. Looking into Trier's indifferent eyes, an indescribable fear rose in his heart. He suddenly thought of the mages in the Silent Whisperers who had studied necromancy for many years and had become extremely indifferent to life. Their indifferent and ruthless demeanor was exactly the same.

They kill their own kind simply as a job. They neither reject killing like ordinary people nor enjoy the process like serial killers. Their cruelty is routine, a cruelty that doesn't consider the other person as one of their own.

"Could this thing be a paladin?" This was the last thought in the servant's mind.

“There is no mercy for villains,” Trier said.

The next moment, the longsword whistled and struck the servant's neck again. The wedge-shaped wound instantly wriggled, tore, and expanded into a gushing blood plasma. As the head spun up, the headless corpse exploded into a ball of golden light.

[XP+600]

The exchange was brief and intense; from the verbal sparring to the fatal blow, only four seconds elapsed.

Trier slammed his headless servant's body aside, and the end of the street came into view.

A horde of zombies is approaching!

The zombies, all over thirty years old, pressed down like a wall of flesh and blood. Among them were extremely agile ghouls, and in the center of the zombie horde was a tall, ancient tomb monster wielding a long-handled axe.

“The squire once said that his goal was to lure the infantry into the ambush, and these undead should be the ambush force.” A look of solemnity appeared on the paladin’s face. “The cultists who released the accelerated plague must also be hiding inside.”

The time traveler looked at the struggling knights and infantry and felt a dilemma—if he left now, he could escape before the undead surrounded him, but these soldiers would surely die.

He had ample reasons not to rescue them: firstly, if he chose to help them, he would definitely be trapped; secondly, in terms of outcome, he would eventually have to leave Beaver Town, and even if he rescued them now, their future would be bleak; and finally, in terms of purpose, the group's original plan was to capture him.

To save or not to save, that is the question.

A moment later, the time traveler made a decision.

He rushed to Harlan and grabbed him.

The knight was in bad shape; a deep, bone-revealing wound ran from his right ear down to his chin, blood mixed with shattered glass splattered on the ground. He was still alive, but his right eye and right ear were certainly beyond saving.

Chapter 5 Futia

The knight is still alive, but his right eye and right ear are definitely gone.

Trier grabbed the other man's shoulder guards and used the momentum from the height difference of the steps to flip him from a prone position to a supine position. The heavy weight of the plate armor made his shoulders ache, and Trier even wondered if he was trying to move a solid block of iron.

The paladin took a deep breath, pushed off the ground, and began to back up.

"Run! It's an ambush!" The knight struggled to turn his head, blood gushing from his wound.

The knight's intermittent words caused his chest to contract, which significantly affected his center of gravity and greatly slowed down Trier's dragging efficiency. So the paladin reprimanded him without hesitation: "Shut up."

With Harlan decisively shutting up, the paladin's dragging efficiency returned to normal, and he transported the knight back to the shrine in about ten seconds. Although the rough dragging might further damage the knight's health, the situation was critical, and he couldn't worry about that now.

“There’s still time. We can make another round of transport. If there are six people inside the shrine, resisting the undead horde will be very easy. Four spears are more than enough to block the entrance. But if there are only four people, the horde of zombies will easily overwhelm the defenses at the entrance.” The paladin quickly constructed a route in his mind, streamlining unnecessary factors and striving to maximize efficiency. “If only the ranger hadn’t run away, she could have found an opportunity to snipe the cultist casting the spell.”

With a mix of thoughts, Trier pushed open the shrine door once more.

Suddenly, he heard the knight apologize: "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have believed the lies..."

The paladin silently left the gate and rushed back up the steps.

"You are a true paladin!" the soldier with the cauldron shouted. "May the radiance protect you!"

As Trier left the gate, he was surprised to find that the soldiers had stopped trembling. Amidst the chilling sounds of chewing, the newly converted soldiers were prostrate on the ground, voraciously devouring fresh flesh and blood, their teeth filled with torn bits of meat—flesh and blood from soldiers who had survived the outbreak of the blood plague.

"The onset of the disease progressed ten seconds faster than I expected," Trier thought. "The spellcaster on the other side is quite skilled."

Suddenly, the zombies abruptly stopped eating, as if countless invisible threads in the air were binding them. Like marionettes, the zombies abandoned their shattered corpses, picked up their weapons, and retreated in perfect unison towards the horde of zombies not far away.

The buzzing of flies mingled with the sighs of the dead, and a cloud of putrid green gas almost condensed above the horde of corpses.

The walkers were crammed together in an exaggeratedly dense crowd, like a stenching tide, the dense human wall creating an oppressive scene. The first row of walkers were all armored, their various long-handled weapons pointed straight ahead.

They trudged slowly but steadily up the steps. From this distance, Trier could clearly see the painful and grotesque expressions on the walkers' faces, and the translucent maggots churning between their empty eye sockets and rotting flesh.

The human wall blocked out all vision; the ghouls, corpse demons, and cultists all vanished like drops of water merging into the ocean.

The paladin's heart sank.

The cultist who manipulated the undead was not a novice, but a seasoned commander. The enemy's formation clearly indicated that they did not intend to launch a direct assault, but rather planned to use the immense weight of the undead gathered together to crush the weak human defenses, or even the outer walls of buildings.

From one perspective, walkers are the worst kind of infantry. They are slow-moving, unresponsive, and lack any initiative. Individually, they are even weaker than temporarily conscripted human farmers and have almost no ability to attack fortified positions. However, from another perspective, walkers are also the most formidable infantry in the world. They are numerous, lack morale, and are absolutely obedient to commands. In the hands of a competent commander, they can not only serve as the most reliable anvil in anvil-hammer tactics but also become a core component of any imaginative tactic.

For example, Trier himself once used a sea of ​​zombies as a construction team, braving overwhelming long-range firepower and with the help of rain, to artificially create a powerful physical landslide that buried a famous castle built on a small hill along with all the garrison inside.

"We need to find a way to take down the cultists who control the undead." Trier turned and went back into the shrine.

At the shrine's main gate, soldiers in helmets and young men had already set up their spears, the tips gleaming menacingly in the setting sun, firmly blocking the three steps leading to the narrow gate. Meanwhile, the knight was bandaging his eyes and ears to stop the bleeding.

The stench of the rotting corpses outside the door grew stronger.

"They're here!" The young soldier's face turned deathly pale, and his hand gripping the gun began to tremble violently. "May the radiance protect my soul!"

“Relax, young man,” the sergeant said calmly. “Walks are all brainless idiots. You can’t go wrong by shooting them in the eyes.”

“Well said.” Trier pulled a military crossbow from his backpack and skillfully loaded it with a bolt using his foot. “You guys guard the gate, I’ll deal with the cultists who are casting spells.”

The paladin moved nimbly up the wooden stairs to the confessional on the second floor. He gently opened the window, hid in the shadows, and glanced at the street out of the corner of his eye.

The horde of zombies had surged up the steps, with the long-handled axe-wielding zombies aggressively hiding behind the first row of zombies, while the few ghouls were still nowhere to be found.

“If I were the commander…” As a seasoned necromancer, Trier knew all too well where to hide when controlling a horde of undead—his gaze swept quickly across the center of the horde, the street corner with cover, and the high points on the street.

The paladin quickly located the other party.

The cultist hid under a two-story house not far away, accompanied by two human followers with swords and shields. He was holding a spellbook and casting some kind of spell.

The field of view is excellent.

Trier didn't rush to fire. He closed his eyes and quickly considered the effects of distance, wind speed, and humidity in his mind. After confirming that none of the three would have a significant impact, he decisively left the shadows and used the aiming ring to target the cultist's bald head that was peeking out from behind the shield.

Hold your breath, aim, pull the trigger, and return to the shadows.

The crossbow trembled suddenly, and the bolt whistled through the air with a stealthy sound as it flew towards the cultist. However, just as the bolt was about to pierce the cultist's eye socket, an invisible wave deflected the arrow to the ground.

The cultist gaped in terror, his face filled with astonishment, before he ducked behind his shield. Two guards nervously searched for the attacker.

“Spellproof arrows, be careful.” Trier put down the crossbow with regret and took a rope from his backpack. “I have to risk a direct confrontation.”

However, just as Trier took out the rope, his movements suddenly stopped—he suddenly noticed a slender figure holding two heavy scimitars appear on the second floor of the house, and then the figure silently fell behind the shield wall.

The next moment, a bald head shot into the sky with a pillar of blood.

Two shield-wielding guards quickly approached the attacker, but the attacker moved nimbly and elusively, like a ghost without substance, dodging the cultists' counterattacks.

She took a light step back, but the next moment she suddenly pushed off the wall and charged forward. With the force of her waist swinging back, a heavy scimitar cleaved a shield into pieces, while another scimitar, like a heavy hammer, firmly suppressed another guard.

"Fodia's combat power is that high? Her professional level must be above 10." Trier was quite surprised. He decisively reloaded his crossbow, picked up the heavy crossbow, aimed at the shield cultist who was struggling to hold on, and then pulled the trigger.

A burst of blood suddenly erupted from the cultist's kneecap. The immense impact of the crossbow bolt caused him to stagger forward. In the next instant, the ranger's scimitar flashed like a crescent moon, tracing two cold arcs before delivering powerful, overlapping slashes that struck the guard's neck.

Amidst the blood and gore, another head fell to the ground.

The last cultist without a shield was left to fight alone. Terrified, he fought and retreated, but a few seconds later, he was beheaded by the Ranger with a classic left-hand feint followed by a right-hand delayed strike.

Fythia stood upright in the pool of blood, her deerskin boots stained with blood, and three headless corpses lay at her feet.

"Are normal elven rangers really this keen on beheadings?" Trier thought to himself.

She looked up at Trier, then gracefully raised the scimitar in her right hand, placed it on her forehead, and bowed in an elven salute.

The paladin waved back, but to his astonishment, he saw the ranger actually draw his longbow, nock an arrow, and aim it at them!

Trier quickly dodged back into the shadows.

The next moment, the sound of arrows piercing the air suddenly exploded in my ears.

Chapter 6 Black Ribbon

A pair of pale hands with distinct knuckles suddenly gripped the windowsill, their sharp, slender black nails digging into the stone. A bloodied, mangled face suddenly emerged, pale, thread-like fascia hanging down along with the rotting flesh.

It's a ghoul.

"boom!"

The arrow struck the back of the ghoul's head instantly, and the ghoul's skull exploded in an instant. Various flesh and blood tissues radiated outwards like an abstract painting onto the wall in front of it. The ghoul's steel-like skull actually burst into a cloud of blood mist like fireworks.

Even after the arrow blasted the ghoul away, its momentum didn't diminish. Like a roaring flying axe, it slammed into the stone wall, sending up a shower of rubble, its winged tail trembling slightly.

“This is practically a crossbow…” Trier looked at the abstract painting on the wall made up of various unidentified liquids and took a deep breath. “This elf’s power has definitely reached twenty points, possessing extraordinary power.”

“Ghouls always move in groups, and there should be more outside the window. I need to avoid the angle of the window and give Futia enough space to shoot.”

As if to confirm Trier's conjecture, the next moment, at least three pale hands gripped the window frame, the densely packed, intertwined hands reminding him of wriggling maggots.

The paladin drew his longsword and slowly retreated to a corner of the wall at an angle of about 30 degrees to the plane of the window. This angle was the angle of the extension of the line connecting the two-story house where the elf was located and the window.

The next moment, the ghouls swarmed in! The first ghoul to enter was wearing a well-made woolen coat. Its face was still intact, but its bulging eyes were bloodshot, and its gums were covered with scarlet flesh.

It's that thug who killed and set fire to the street just a few tens of minutes ago!

As Trier's mind raced, the ghoul suddenly lunged forward, lunging straight at his throat like a mad hound.

The paladin slid to the left, while his longsword slashed simply from right to left.

He was all too familiar with the ghouls' attack patterns.

The ghoul rammed into the tip of the blade, as if it had offered itself up. The instant the longsword touched the ghoul, a soft white light flashed across the blade, and then the cold steel sliced ​​the ghoul in two as easily as a hot knife through butter.

The Holy Slash!

"Sizzle!" The sword blade sliced ​​through flesh and blood, and two lumps of flesh emitting white smoke fell to the ground one after the other.

[XP+600]

The blade continued its trajectory, and Trier, like the most skilled dancer, glided past the scattered remains. At the same time, he used the speed of his slide to push off the ground and twist his waist, and after a brief stop, he suddenly accelerated again, unleashing a spinning slash.

Just as the second ghoul was about to launch a surprise attack, a flash of sword light appeared, and the blade, carrying a huge amount of flesh and blood, slashed fiercely at its outstretched claws. The ghoul howled and crashed back to the window, knocking the last ghoul backward and making it fall backward.

The paladin followed closely behind, swiftly and decisively executing the two out-of-balance ghouls with his sword.

[XP+400]

[XP+400]