The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 331 - 285: I Have a Friend Who Died in a Game

Chapter 331: Chapter 285: I Have a Friend Who Died in a Game

Blood splashed on the cobblestone streets of Fox Hole, with rage bombing in his heart like a meteor.

The Undead had already endured numerous battles.

The Planters’ shrills, the villagers’ wailings, the Undead’s roars, and the buzz of "Red Spirit" swinging weapons.

"Run, run fast!" The Undead were in utter chaos.

The deranged villagers of Fox Hole almost swarmed out, and the Red Spirits following them nearly overwhelmed them, each Undead facing their own "Red Spirit."

The shoulder-to-shoulder collisions prevented the Undead from fully wielding their weapons. Lacking enough resistance, they could only be suppressed in combat.

Although Undead would resurrect, the opposing Red Spirits seemed equally inexhaustible, diminishing the advantage of their numbers and immortality. The sustained fight became increasingly torturous.

The torment doubled when facing an enemy identical to themselves, the "Red Spirit."

With each resurrection, they would appear in a random area of Fox Hole, which only served to extend the agony indefinitely. They were trapped in this maze, unable to escape, only to resurrect and continue being hunted.

The Undead, who had leveled up to level 10 through combat, would gain no further benefits from the continued fighting.

Being hunted without any benefit, continuing was pointless.

They had communicated with the Undead from nearby Newbie Village at the earliest opportunity, hoping for a rescue, but the journey of at least three to five days made this rescue agonizing.

Some in Fox Hole had already found a relatively safe spot to log off.

I Have an Early Eight hadn’t logged off because he was still with Edwin, his pitiful friend.

The surging, sharp wind collided with the scythes and pitchforks being swung, with Edwin struggling to follow the Undead, continually apologizing, "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry..."

The escape had drained all of Edwin’s strength. His disabled body could no longer keep up, having been stabbed several times, his blood uncontrollably creating a red mist that blurred his vision.

The world spun around.

But a hand reached out, and he grabbed Edwin’s hand.

The fog ahead cleared, and the hazy vision gradually sharpened.

The hand that grabbed him was the Undead’s.

"Don’t fall behind, friend."

With the Undead’s hand holding him, Edwin felt as if he was weightlessly lifted, then he was pulled onto the other’s back.

"Thank you."

Edwin tried hard to make a sound, but he couldn’t hear his own voice, merely moving his mouth futilely, hoping his voice could be conveyed.

The Undead also responded loudly, not stopping his run, "I know a place, though it’s a bit far, but the Lord there has a good character. No one goes hungry in his domain, and everyone is protected. He would certainly welcome you to move there."

"Really?"

"In the future, we can also drink together in the tavern. I’ll teach you how to play cards, but definitely no wine. Ever since I came to Fox Hole, I’ve sworn off wine for life!"

"Sounds... good..." Edwin said softly.

Finally, I Have an Early Eight escaped Fox Hole with Edwin, the light on the horizon acting like an invisible barrier, blocking the pursuing forces behind them.

Under the same sky, yet perfectly dividing two worlds.

The passionate villagers stood at the entrance of Fox Hole village, raging powerlessly but not daring to step forward.

I Have an Early Eight looked at Edwin’s body, which was as fragmented as a punctured sack.

He suddenly felt the whole game was ridiculous.

Was this the punishment for game failure? No, protecting Edwin was never part of the mission from the beginning, as there had never been any reward for it.

Just as now, he failed, bringing out only Edwin’s corpse, without any penalty.

He looked towards the entrance of Fox Hole village. Once the villagers confirmed they couldn’t catch the Undead, they turned and dispersed.

Leaving him alone standing in front of the corpse, silently staring at everything before him.

The distant enemies had dispersed, the nearby body lay motionless.

This world felt very real and vivid, a short game experience felt like a whole new life. He started to believe this world wasn’t just a game, at least Edwin wasn’t just a game character.

"Glad to have met you, friend."

He had made an ugly but absolutely trustworthy friend.

Only, now that friend was dead.

Dead within the game.

...

...

Lind appeared in front of Fox Hole village.

Undead figures had already begun scattering around, among them some possessing strength surpassing the 11th level.

Some were "Red-Name Monsters," meaning they were actually related to Raven City and held hostility toward him.

The spread of Bloodlust Plague was faster than anticipated, making it an excellent leveling ground for some undead.

Merchants even began to appear in the area.

Stall merchants were selling various potions and weapons.

"Come, come, take a look, excellent quality little red bottles. Do you feel weak, fatigued, suffering from back pain? Try one, just 500 Riven coins a bottle!"

"How much?" An undead carrying an axe paused, lifting a hand to his ear.

Inflation?

Many things were not purchasable with money, such as pathways for advancement via Magic Potion, along with various enchanted equipment, some of which were limited in supply, like the inexpensively priced recovery potions that NPCs tended to not favor.

No matter how well-crafted a potion was, long-term consumption always left some traces in the body, which could significantly affect further advancements.

Moreover, potions could not be taken consecutively without diminishing their effects, so many NPCs would only carry one or two bottles to use them only in critical moments, or bandage themselves and wait for wounds to heal naturally.

Without the need for so many potions, they would not invest much in production.

In an apocalyptic world with a sparse population, sustaining production for Magic Potion wasn’t as valuable as producing more useful items.

But the undead were not so cautious. They drank potions madly; deaths and subsequent resurrections eliminated any bodily repercussions.

The scarcity of potions was almost a common ailment among all the undead, and some Undead Wizards were even trying to concoct Magic Potions themselves, but the time costs were high, and the results were poor.

Another group of undead following Lind were acting as potion traffickers. Lind had heard that their business was flourishing; they accumulated points by dealing with Magic Potions and then sold them at a slightly higher price in large volumes.

The stall undead said, "This stuff isn’t easy to get, all high-quality goods!"

The axe-bearing undead began to doubt himself, "I toil away at blacksmithing, and the money I earn is still not enough to buy a single potion?"

"Heh heh," the stall-holding undead didn’t say anything.

No money, no talk then.

Lind used the stealth ability of the Rune Messenger, "Stealth Tracking," and he was now standing on the bustling open ground, but his exceptional ability allowed him to remain unseen, utterly undetectable.

The undead were noisy here, but since the strongest among them was just an "expert" who had come from a nearby village and had just completed their job change, this meant that further progression into Fox Hole was significantly delayed.

They got stuck after entering and lacked the strength to cope, only able to shout a few times before waiting for more to arrive.

Some treated this place as a trade market, where they could purchase items unseen in their Newbie Villages, or simply barter.

Equipment and weapons were solid commodities.

It’s a pity that the undead from Mountain Demon Castle and Emerald Hill didn’t come; otherwise, they definitely would have taught these undead what "money talks" truly means, perhaps even further promoting their benefits and attracting some undead who found the game challenging to convert.

Lind wandered around the small marketplace twice, catching sight of a conspicuous ruckus in the process.

A big group of undead always knew how to create great fun. Manipulating an online game character’s face seemed to hide their true selves but actually fully unleashed their real nature.

Watching them enjoy themselves, Lind suddenly realized in a daze that the internet had evolved so swiftly in such a short time. Would he one day fail to keep up with the times and truly become a Red-Name Monster? This thought made him feel somewhat anxious.

After confirming there wasn’t anything stranger, Lind approached the city walls of Fox Hole village and effortlessly scaled over, stepping across the uneven surfaces of the walls and rooftops, swiftly maneuvering through.

Though Lind couldn’t see the players’ data and health bars, he could clearly sense the strength and condition of his enemies.

Through his senses, he knew precisely how long an enemy could last after sustaining the first attack and also what hidden powers they might possess.

The difference between quantified abilities and senses was merely a matter of expression.

Of course, for most Great Knights, having detailed panel data rather than relying on instinct might seem more intuitive.

In front of Lind stood an undead, "Unhappy Superman."

If an undead’s movement speed didn’t exceed his own and they didn’t possess spatial magic abilities, then the real Unhappy Superman would currently be at the marketplace.

The conspicuous troublemaker was skilful at causing disturbances; just now, his presence in the marketplace had been due to being controlled by the other party for 10 seconds.

It was as though he were shouting, "I’m Unhappy Superman, as long as I’m unhappy, I’m super!"

Lind could feel that the one in front of him was a real undead, not something fake, and there was indeed a faint red glow on him, easy to overlook without an undead’s perspective which wouldn’t be so apparent.

This bizarre sensation made him slightly uncomfortable.

This was a Red Spirit from the undead.

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