Rum Village, More Monsters

1:00 PM.

Field led the slave guards into the grey mist. Truthfully, it was hard to maintain a sense of time within the mist—everything remained perpetually shrouded in gloom, plunging only at night into pitch-black darkness where one couldn't see their own hand. Ashina rode her giant wolf at the vanguard, scouting the path ahead; the eyes of the Chosen One seemed altered, granting her clearer sight in this world.

Following them were Field and his newly formed slave guard, advancing slowly and laboriously through a forest choked with thorns and fleshy tentacles.

"According to the map, we should reach Rum Village soon—the place that once supplied the city with abundant vegetables."

"A pity all I see now is corruption." Ashina shielded her eyes, straining to peer ahead. "Hmm, caution to our right front. Seven rotten corpses are approaching. I suspect they were once Rum Village's villagers."

"Good practice for the new recruits."

Seeing Ashina's relaxed expression, Field knew these walking corpses were minor nuisances—perfect for blooding the new soldiers.

The recruits gulped audibly in unison. Instinct screamed at them to flee, but with their lord standing behind them, they dared not move.

Thoughts of the smooth, delicious eggs they'd eaten seemed to elevate their very souls. Many slaves had lived this long without ever tasting an egg. At lunch, several had swallowed theirs whole, barely chewing, a few even choking in their haste. Yet, despite that, they had felt pure joy.

To savor that joy again, they were willing to brave the risk of death.

"Groooan!"

A woman resembling an ancient Loulan corpse burst from the mist—naked, withered, disgusting breasts sagging to her abdomen, her body slick with mucus.

The veteran slave guards raised their halberds, thrusting from multiple directions to pin the corpse firmly in place.

"Go on, pierce her skull, or stab the chest a few more times. Keep your hands steady, minimize body sway."

Wildcat generously shared his experience before grabbing a recruit, dragging the trembling youth right up to the rotting horror.

The recruit raised his halberd several times but couldn't bring himself to strike, even wetting his pants under the corpse's furious snarls.

"It's... it's a devil!" one recruit stammered, teeth chattering.

Field had seen plenty of zombie movies in his past life, but the slaves hadn't. To them, these corpses housed devils; one slip, and you'd be cursed.

"Strike! Don't act like a cowardly quail!" Field barked. He couldn't let fear take root—it was contagious. Soon, everyone would see devils instead of killable creatures. "Even if it *is* a devil, with me and the Chosen One here, what are you scared of? We'll kill devils right before your eyes!"

*Thud!*

Scolded by Field, the soldier finally thrust his halberd—eyes squeezed shut, nearly stumbling into the corpse's embrace—but he'd taken the first step.

Afterwards, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground.

"See? Not difficult. No curse either." Field pointed at the corpse on the ground, snapping his fingers lightly. "Just keep your distance. They're easier to handle than dumb roe deer."

As other corpses closed in, emboldened by the first strike, the remaining recruits found their courage and attacked.

After easily dispatching this batch of monsters, Field led the group onward, soon reaching the outskirts of Rum Village.

"What's wrong with these corpses?"

Field scratched his head, perplexed by the small map before him, where skeletal markers trembled incessantly.

Were they... dancing?

"Hmm... My Lord, I can clear Rum Village's corpses alone. It's too dangerous ahead; let me handle it." Ashina's eyes darted about nervously, a flush coloring her alabaster cheeks.

Her odd demeanor instantly piqued Field's curiosity. What *had* Ashina seen? "Let's go take a look together," Field mused, rubbing his chin.

"Um, er... alright," Ashina stammered.

The moment Field witnessed the explosive scene before him, he instantly regretted his stubbornness.

Hordes of grotesque, rotten corpses were engaged in a chaotic, twisted imitation of a "human centipede" in the village's outer fields.

Even though their reproductive organs had long rotted away, they seemed driven by instinct to perform the act.

Field was struck speechless. *Did I bloody well transmigrate into an H-game world?*

No wonder that female corpse earlier had no clothes.

The soldiers burst into laughter, whooping and hollering, the previously oppressive atmosphere vanishing instantly.

*BOOM!*

Ashina snapped. She immediately directed her dragon-wolf to unleash purifying flames.

Space warped as searing blue fire engulfed the writhing figures. The crackle of splitting bones filled the air until only ash remained.

Several vaguely human-shaped corpses shrieked, charging from the rear.

Hammer reacted instantly. His tall frame leaned back like a drawn bow, then snapped forward as the corpse neared. A shield bash sent the creature sprawling, followed by ruthless stomps crushing its fragile chest. It moved no more.

Not to be outdone—after all, these stumbling corpses were walking silver coins—the guards thrust their halberds. Unarmored, the corpses fell swiftly, littering the ground.

"We advance into the village together. Stay within the mist-repelling lantern's range!" Field itched to join the fight. Unfortunately, he held the crucial lantern; otherwise, he'd have happily chopped a few corpses himself.

*Thud! Squelch!* One corpse after another fell into pools of dark blood.

As the guards advanced steadily, Field distinctly heard their footsteps synchronize, merging into a rhythmic thunder—a natural war drum. Once the rhythm took hold, each soldier felt the power of the collective. New recruits who had hesitated soon joined the slaughter, swept up by the momentum.

Soon, most of Rum Village's corpses were slain. Rotten bodies lay everywhere, reeking of decay.

Field reached the village center—a dilapidated well, now collapsed. He placed the mist-repelling lantern there. Barely five minutes after announcing a rest, he noticed a sudden flood of red skull markers swarming his mini-map.

"Beware! More monsters here—no, a *lot* of them!" Without hesitation, Field prepared to order a retreat, but the enemy was terrifyingly fast—faster than a trotting horse.

"My Lord, flee! I saw—" The sentry rushed over, but managed only a few words before being cut off.

Leaving Rum Village now would mean a head-on collision. Their urgent priority was finding a defensible position.