Chapter 120: You Thought It Was A Physical Attack?

While the players and Wagner were equally disdainful toward each other, Lakeside Village, two kilometers away, was in disarray.

"What in the world are these creatures? How can there be so many undead here?"

In the makeshift camp surrounded by huge wagons pulled by six-legged lizards, the owner of this caravan, a dark-skinned and portly Sokrian man, cursed.

The captain of the Sea Lions mercenary group, a man with a stern face, kept silent, allowing the employer to vent his frustration before stepping forward to advise, "Mr. Ilik, something is seriously wrong here. We need to leave as soon as possible."

"Leave? That sounds great!" The merchant Ilik's round, black Sokrian eyes widened even further. "Your men still haven't brought back any information from Weisshem Town. Where do you expect my caravan to go? Do you think we can fly directly to Indahl?"

The Sea Lions group's captain was silent for a moment before saying, "Mr. Ilik, we can exit this area to the east and take a longer route that will still get us to Indahl."

Merchant Ilik's dark face turned bright red, and he pointed at the mercenary leader, berating him, "What do you mean by that, Kenn? Is this the attitude of the Sea Lions mercenaries? Did I hire you to teach me how to do business?"

Mercenary Kenn had no choice but to lower his head. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Ilik. That's not what I meant."

However, Ilik wouldn't let it go and continued ranting, angrily instructing Kenn to arrange for night watchmen and demanding he send more people to Weisshem Town at first light—due to the recent influx of mysterious undead, it was too dangerous to send anyone out at night, and he needed extra manpower to protect the caravan.

Rubbing his aching head, Kenn watched his employer enter a spacious box wagon.

Professional mercenaries would not let minor details delay their mission. If his capable squad leader went on a scouting mission with two men and had gone missing, it could only mean one thing: the three scouts had encountered an opponent they couldn't escape from.

The Sea Lions mercenary group leader knew the abilities of his squad leader very well. If even he had been captured, then certainly it would be foolish to continue sending men into the same predicament—current personnel took precedence over lost comrades.

Kenn wanted to "cut losses promptly," but the employer disagreed.

Those fabrics were just too tempting. Even if obtained twice… no, three times the price, it could still easily make at least five times the profit once it was transported back.

A profit margin of twofold was enough to make anyone envious, let alone several times that amount. Kenn knew all too well that convincing the employer to give up this "gold mine" would be a daunting task.

"Kenn!"

Adam, Kenn's burly deputy, waved him over from across from the mercenaries gathered around the campfire, where they were busy roasting meat.

Kenn pushed through a few idiots fighting for meat and made his way over, asking, "Did you find out anything?"

"I did." Adam, looking somewhat pale-faced as if spooked by something, glanced around before leaning closer to Kenn and whispering, "Kenn, we've got a big problem. Those village hicks deceived us!"

Kenn's face tensed up. "I'll go take a look."

Outside the camp, in a cowshed belonging to the village head's family, which was now commandeered by Kenn's trusted men, Kenn found his interrogation subject.

The young man curled up on a pile of straw, raised his swollen eyelids, and shrank back, trembling as Kenn entered.

When the undead came to the village, Kenn knew that the villagers hadn't told the truth about the Weisshem's situation, or at least not the whole truth. When the older villagers couldn't provide answers, the mercenaries turned to the younger generation, and it was evident that they had made a breakthrough with the village head's son.

After giving this timid young man a scrutinizing look, Kenn wasted no time in delivering a swift kick, knocking him to the ground.

"Don't… don't beat me, sir! I've told you everything, sir!" The village head's son, terrified, clutched his chest and sobbed.

"Speak! What's the situation in Westham Town?" Kenn demanded.

"The new lord, Rex, has the backing of a black mage. The former mayor was captured by the undead sent by that black mage and imprisoned in militia headquarters!" The village head's son cried out in fear. "When my father and I went to the town, we saw undead walking in the streets!"

Kenn couldn't prevent the apprehension from showing on his face when he heard the term "black mage"…

No one would willingly provoke spellcasters, especially illusionists and black mages. Even regular military forces would go out of their way to avoid them if they could.

Just thinking about the undead that had openly entered the village not long ago, roaming around everywhere and even boldly observing their camp, made Kenn's scalp tingle.

"M-my father said no one should tell you guys about the black mage and the undead in the town, or else… or else none of us would be saved…" The village head's son continued to cry, not noticing Kenn's pale face. "My father said Lord Rex is the kindest lord. As long as we don't betray him, he will definitely save us…"

Kenn couldn't help but laugh in exasperation. "Dream on! You expect nobles to save you hillbillies? Does he even know who you people are?"

The frightened youngster lowered his head.

With a grim look on his face, Kenn left the cowshed and immediately went to report the information to their employer.

The merchant Ilik nearly fell off his soft, high-backed chair when he heard that there was indeed a black mage in Weisshem Town.

"No wonder the actions of those undead were so peculiar… They're indeed being controlled by a black mage!" Ilik was both shocked and terrified. "Damn it, all we did was send scouts, and we've already offended that black mage? Are these spellcasters that petty?"

"Mr. Ilik, we should leave here as soon as possible," Kenn advised. "Let's bypass Weisshem town, and when we reach Indahl, given your relationship with the Bartalis family… you should give some face to what the black mage says."

Ilik didn't agree immediately, instead pacing anxiously in the box car.

This Sokrian merchant did have a good relationship with the Bartalis family, the ruling lords of Indahl. The Sokri Empire was a tropical powerhouse in the southern part of the Navalon continent, known for its production of spices like chili, pepper, garlic, ginger, dried passion fruit, and other food flavorings. Before the Age of Discovery, it had once had a renowned reputation as the "Land of Spices." Sokrian traders from the empire were once known as the "Spice Ships of the Land."

However, after the Age of Exploration, the Kenyan Empire in the north brought back not only cheap orc slaves but also vast quantities of spices from beyond the seas. This caused a severe impact on the Sokrian spice trade.

Today, Sokrian spices could no longer be sold to the north, and they could only be traded overland to some central and western nations, with much less influence than before.

Nevertheless, Sokrian merchants specializing in local spices still held a higher status than ordinary traders, especially those like Ilik, with a quarter of Sokrian noble blood in his veins. Although he had not been officially recognized as a noble, as long as he mentioned his family name, he could still receive VIP treatment in a small nation like the Rhine Kingdom.

Just that… When he saw the exquisitely cut square piece of fabric lying on the small round table, Ilik couldn't help but feel unwilling.

Ilik had received a certain degree of noble education from his father. He could accurately deduce that the Bartalis family did not have access to the source of this fabric. Otherwise, this piece of fabric cut so neatly, which could be used as a tablecloth in any decent place, wouldn't have ended up in the hands of bumpkins in a remote village.

If he rushed off in a hurry to seek the protection of the Bartalis family, those fabrics would no longer be within his grasp… And even if he could get his hands on them, the lion's share would still belong to someone else.

Ilik clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly.

"Wait… Why should we consider that black mage as an enemy?" Ilik suddenly said. "After all, we only sent scouts, and we haven't done anything disrespectful, have we?"

Kenn: "…"

He wanted to say that sending scouts was already considered an offense… but he also knew that if he pointed this out, Ilik would definitely shift the blame onto him, the mercenary group captain, for not stopping it at the time.

The weight of the Ilik name was significant, and if he offended this employer, the Sea Lions mercenaries would have a hard time in the Sokri Empire. Captain Kenn had no choice but to keep his mouth shut.

"That's right, we don't need to confront that black mage head-on," Ilik continued enthusiastically, clearly convinced of his own idea. "We used to do business with Baron Markus, and now we can do business with Rex… Seems like that guy doesn't have a title yet, right? No problem, he will get his title conferred sooner or later, and we can still do business with this nobleman!"

"That's it!" Ilik clapped his hands excitedly as he continued, "Kenn, send an emissary with gifts and the Ilik family's business card to the town as soon as the day breaks! We need to establish a good relationship with this noble!"

"It's already dark."

Wagner looked up at the sky, quietly touching his cuckoo flower lapel badge. He forced himself to stand up and, as per Yang's request, shouted to the disorganized undead who were doing their own things, "Undead friends, it's time for battle! Please assist—"

"Finally, it's starting!"

"Charge!"

"Yah-hoo~"

The scattered undead all around jumped up and down like springs as they ran joyfully toward Lakeside Village like exuberant wild horses.

The veins on Wagner's forehead were on the verge of bursting. "—Stop right there!"

The undead lagging behind were already several dozen yards away, and none of them paid any attention to Wagner, who was left behind.

Wagner sucked in sharply…

Indeed, he shouldn't have expected anything from these undead bastards!!

A black-faced Wagner glanced at his own men and roared through gritted teeth, "Form up!"

When Wagner, with a face as dark as the bottom of a pot, led the soldiers to the vicinity of Lakeside Village, he was astonished to find that the undead hadn't rushed into the enemy ranks and caused chaos. Instead, they gathered and formed up properly in the cornfield outside the village.

However, the situation wasn't much better than the worst-case scenario Wagner had anticipated.

The cornfield where the undead were gathering and forming noisily was less than 200 meters away from the village.

Between the cornfield and the village, on the compacted yellow soil used for drying grain, there was a temporary camp surrounded by wagons drawn by huge six-legged lizards.

Around the blazing campfire, numerous armed mercenaries and caravan guards were staring in astonishment at the cornfield less than a hundred meters away.

Wagner felt the urge to puke blood again—apparently, these undead were drawing up their tactics and formations in front of the enemy as if it were a usual tradition!

So… what was the point of Yang telling them to attack at night? Did he have no idea what his undead were like?!

These undead clearly didn't care if they were revealed to the enemy or not!

"Sergeant Pitt, are we heading over?" A soldier crouching in the grass alongside Wagner asked cautiously.

"Wait… for now." Wagner forcibly swallowed the bile in his throat. "Let's wait until the undead engage with the enemy."

His men all nodded. The undead wouldn't die, and they could fool around as much as they wanted. They, the living, couldn't afford that, especially since they had neither heavy armor nor mounts.

At this moment, the undead, who had been deploying formations right under the enemy's nose, suddenly started arguing.

"Slightly over ten healers already isn't enough to go around, and you two want to be in the same team?!"

"We'll team up with our own friends. It's none of your business!"

"If you're so damn good, lead your own team for quests. What's the point of joining a raid group like this?!"

"Looking for trouble, huh? Whether we join the big group or not is none of your business. Who do you think you are managing so much?!"

"Screw you!"

"Hey, hey, hey, what are you guys doing? Let's speak nicely and not fight!"

"Damn it! Even if you guys have a disagreement, can't you guys not cause trouble at this time? Have you guys no shame when 200-over people are watching you quarrel?!"

"Come on, guys, give some face! Everyone wants to complete the quest. Can't we settle our differences later?"

Suddenly, the conflict intensified, and one irascible skeleton even drew his knife and swung it toward another's head. Several other skeletons around quickly intervened to stop the fight.

Wagner watching from the shadows: "…"

He turned away, rubbing his temples. He couldn't bear to watch on.

If these undead were his soldiers, at least half of them would have been dragged out to be sacrificed before the battle.

After about 15 minutes of this ruckus, the reactions of the enemies in the makeshift camp shifted from shock to confusion. They huddled together, pointing fingers at the disorganized undead who had just managed to form some semblance of a formation.

And then… Wagner saw a skeleton shout, "Brothers, follow me!" The undead troupe, which had barely assembled any formation, rushed headlong toward the enemy camp.

The soldiers in the tall grass were left dumbfounded, and Wagner stared in disbelief at the sight.

Once he returned to his senses, Wagner had to pinch himself for cursing out loud. What was the point of all that fuss about formations if they were just going to charge into the enemy's midst?!

The enemies in the camp were equally baffled, but they reacted quickly, shouting to one another and swiftly forming defensive formations.

In general, the most effective outdoor cover was created by the thick-skinned six-legged lizards and the giant wagons loaded with goods. As long as the caravan guards and mercenaries held this defensive line, even a band of bandits several times their number would find it challenging to break through and inflict significant damage.

This caravan, belonging to the Ilik family, had experienced fighters among its ranks. The Sea Lions were also a well-known mercenary group. Although they were misled by the unusual combat style of the undead and missed the best opportunity for a preemptive strike, they managed to quickly form a defensive shape and seal off the side facing the undead, making it impenetrable.

However, under the astonished gazes of Captain Kenn, leader of the Sea Lions, and Wagner, who was waiting for an opportunity in the shadows, the undead showed no intention of using the correct tactic of concentrating their forces to break through. Instead, they scattered like water splashing on a flat surface, rushing chaotically in two different directions.

"Staying together and fighting will definitely cause problems. We might accidentally attack each other before completing the quest. It's better to spread out and fight separately."

Overall commander of the undead, Unceasing Entropy, said to Blossoming Strokes.

"This is the only way." Blossoming Strokes sighed. "We can only do so much with so little people. If only we had more."

"Where there are people, there are bound to be conflicts. The high immersion of this game leads to stronger emotions. I'm headed to the left battlefield; you keep an eye on the right," said Unceasing Entropy, waving her hand as she headed off.

"I'll do my best," Blossoming Strokes replied.

Sweating profusely from dealing with the chaos caused by the disorderly players, Captain Kenn of the Sea Lions shouted loudly, "Spread out and defend! Don't let any undead get through!"

Fortunately, the mercenaries of the Sea Lions had experienced several instances of being attacked by bandits who scattered and surrounded them during their jobs. After a brief moment of confusion, they quickly adjusted and dispersed in various directions, facing the undead attempting to breach the defensive line of wagons and carriages head-on.

The players' agile skeletal bodies made it easy for them to climb onto the six-legged lizard-drawn wagons, but their bone frames were indeed fragile. Many players who jumped onto the roofs of the wagons had their skulls knocked off or were completely dismantled.

There was no need to elaborate on players that completely shattered; they disappeared in a flash of white light.

Players who had their heads knocked off were slightly better off. They quickly jumped down and searched for their skulls. Players who had advanced to more than 70 Potential had longer "health bars" compared to when they first entered the game. The damage from having their heads knocked off wasn't enough to deplete their health bars entirely.

"Ahhhhhhh—!"

The mercenaries could bear this horrifying sight, but some members of the caravan screamed at this.

"These darned monsters hit so hard! I almost got killed!" Players who had recovered their heads also got quite a fright and hurriedly sought out healers nearby to restore their health.

"Don't rush to the front if you don't have a helmet! These monsters know how to target our weak points!" Unceasing Entropy shouted loudly. "Those with good equipment, be the vanguard!"

The players who had initially intended to climb onto the carriages quickly retreated, giving way to knight and warrior players.

Due to the release of the undead horse at the start, warriors were in short supply, while knights were numerous. The knight players, who had fallen behind because of their heavier equipment, quickly surged forward.

One knight player leaped onto a carriage, brandishing his sword and shield. He elegantly blocked a mercenary's attack with his shield and retaliated by swinging his sword toward the mercenary.

Using a shield for a blunt force strike might seem straightforward, yet one that heavily armored knights in this world mastered to perfection. The mercenary who stepped up to obstruct the path had encountered such moves before and wasn't particularly concerned, continuing to swing his longsword firmly.

The small, round shield (larger ones were too heavy for the undead to lift) struck his shoulder. The burly and rugged mercenary couldn't help but silently ridicule the feeble force behind this lightweight attack. However, in the next moment, he felt a sudden heaviness in his head, and his vision started to dim.

This mercenary, also hailing from the Sokri Empire, stared with wide, bewildered eyes, unable to comprehend what had just transpired…

A knight's shield strike was considered a purely physical attack and, given the undead's physical strength, shouldn't have posed much of an issue when it landed on a large person.

However, the skills of these knight players were based on Earth's online gaming abilities and modified using alchemical puppet runes. While it appeared as a physical attack, its essence was more of a mental strike.

To execute the Shield Strike skill, knight players needed to expend a certain amount of available mental energy. Once it landed a direct hit (ineffective if it struck a heavily armored area), regardless of the force or size of the target, as long as the target's mental value remained within the player's attack range, the target would invariably experience the effects of a mental assault and fall into a brief state of dizziness.

The warrior players' Charge skill operated on the same principle. Otherwise, how could Yang Ying, with her character and equipment weighing less than 35 kilograms, have possibly halted Wagner, who, with his armor, gear, and steed, weighed close to a ton?

During the brief period when the mercenary was incapacitated by the shield strike, several players hiding under the carriage swiftly took action. They skillfully disarmed the unfortunate mercenary in less than two seconds, expertly removing his weaponry, securing him with nylon restraints, and then dragging him away with determined grunts.

Mercenary captain Kenn who witnessed this scene: "??"

Wait! What are these undead even charging in for?!