The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 333 - 286 Bionic Bugs_2

Chapter 333: Chapter 286 Bionic Bugs_2

The sharpened Wind Blade "whizzed" and flew out, turning dozens of white fat bugs into pulp during an invisible, intensive bombardment, and the pulp was carried by the relentless chaotic wind toward the already skewed wall, smearing it with a layer of white liquid.

Although the power of storm and frost wasn’t very easy to handle, it proved better than flames for cleaning up debris, saving more energy.

However, some fat bugs still managed to escape the onslaught.

The bugs wriggled, grew quickly, and transformed from the white fat bugs into a red silhouette.

It was a "Red Spirit," likely an undead who had once died here, carrying an axe.

The "Red Spirit" charged forward, but in the next second, its body halted.

The Wind Blade had already pierced through the chest of the "Red Spirit," and as it rotated rapidly, it expanded and twisted the body of the "Red Spirit," spinning it clockwise around its chest as the center.

The next moment, the entire body twisted as if it were being forced through a washing machine.

"Crack!!"

The body exploded into plasma, scattering over the vineyard’s muddy ground, perfectly blending into it.

"So this is the birth of a Red Spirit?" Lind thought it was quite different from what he had imagined.

Clearly, it was just a type of bug capable of crude imitation, using some kind of magic to draw power from blood and wield it.

If that was all there was to it, there was no need for an alliance of old and new nobles, as a few hundred undead could completely slaughter the Fox Hole.

In the distance, another bug was curling up; Lind walked over and bent down to pick it up.

After being picked up, the white fat bugs still struggled.

The squishy sensation and the wriggling in his palm made him slightly uncomfortable, but recalling his experiences in the underground breeding farm, those human-faced bugs in their juvenile form were much more disgusting than the fat bugs at hand.

Fortunately, his body could still endure it.

Fine iron chains extended from Lind’s palm, wrapping around the fat bug swiftly and gently, to avoid squeezing it too hard and causing it to burst.

The taming fight had just begun and was over in an instant.

The fat bugs hardly had any brain, acting purely on instinct, so taming them was effortless.

Lind cut his own finger, dripping a drop of blood onto the mouth of the bug.

The Noble Blood made the bug become excited and struggle more violently in his hand.

The next moment, an exact replica of Lind appeared before his eyes.

Unfortunately, its aura wasn’t strong, only reaching up to the level of a Great Knight at best.

But the "Red Spirit" Lind possessed weapons and equipment such as the Unclean Holy Grail, the horn, the Broken Sword, and others, almost identical to him in appearance.

However, the "Red Spirit" was very dull.

Lind thought that this thing should not really be called a Red Spirit; in the concept of players, a Red Spirit is the state of a player invading someone else’s game, focusing on interaction, and what was before him could only be called — a poor version of an imitation tear.

It mimicked him, but that was all it did.

With an instinct for attack, the "Lind" raised its fist and charged forward, the chains that Lind used to tame it having disappeared since the transformation from fat bug to "Lind," leaving no trace.

The opponent acted completely on instinct, reminding Lind of the Blood of Madness drawn from the Blood Lambs.

The undead called it "auto-pilot potion," and the "Lind" in front of him clearly looked as if he had taken such a potion, attacking entirely based on instinct.

It didn’t seem to recognize that those were weapons on its body, neither the Broken Sword nor the Holy Grail, not ever considering to use them, instead treating them as part of the decorative adornments growing from Lind’s body, which disappointed Lind a bit as he had hoped the opponent could also mimic creating weapons containing shards of the Magic Ring.

Fist speed like the wind.

Not only did it use Lind’s flames, but it also used frost, poison fog, and other abilities of the Snake Catcher that he had discarded.

It virtually replicated all of Lind’s powers on a one-to-one basis.

When the "Lind" blew open a pair of Flame Wings on its back and quickly retracted them into its body, Lind finally started to take it seriously.

If he wasn’t mistaken, the counterpart had chosen to use the abilities of the Supply Flame Knight, sacrificing itself to synchronize its heartbeat with the flames, thereby forcefully enhancing its power.

His strength had long reached the Hero Rank, level 31 and above, facing an imitator who could be just level 11, he didn’t even need to exert his full strength.

Lind raised his hand and unleashed an Explosive Flame, somewhat disappointed that the "Lind" neither absorbed nor converted the flame’s damage into something Ineffective.

Flame Wing was blasted away and dissipated, the airwaves surging, turning him into a scattered gelatinous substance, dying and becoming dried bloodstains.

"You didn’t copy the crest on my chest."

Lind’s power was immense, and although he wielded the vast capabilities of a Great Knight, the true power still belonged to the Crest on his chest.

He was quite interested in aphids, and caught a few more to stuff into the quiver on his lower back.

...

The sudden explosion and surge of heat had already caught the attention of most people, including a Red-Winged Crow circling overhead.

The Red-Winged Crow dove down, landing in the clearing of the vineyard, and was quickly engulfed in a swirl of black mist.

A pair of slender arms tore through the mist, those pristine ten fingers fiercely grasped the black fog, flung it downwards, and in an instant, the mist transformed into a tangible piece of cloth.

The black cloth rapidly contracted, forming a long black dress that wrapped around the owner of those arms that had suddenly appeared.

The pitch-black, elegant strapless dress, bound at the back with tight cords, caused the bust to nearly spill out, trembling with each step forward, fitting tightly around the waist into an hourglass shape, perfectly aligning with noble aesthetics.

Only leaving two streaks of crimson pleated red lace as ornaments from the ribs to the hem of the skirt, making the waist appear even slimmer.

She squatted down, gently tapping the dried bloodstains on the ground with her finger.

Then she placed her finger into her crimson lips.

Her eyes rolled up slightly as if experiencing infinite pleasure from this.

Up ahead, disordered footsteps approached, and the woman’s body exploded again into a cloud of black mist. When the mist dissipated, only a venomous snake was left, hissing.

The venomous snake raised its head and watched the Undead carrying various weapons, yelling as they rushed in, quickly crawling away on the ground.

...

The arrows had already been shot, the swords gone dull.

The old Hunter, Charles, lay on a pile of corpses, while the frenzied villagers committed atrocities upon him.

He had been slaughtering here for many days, but the pursuit was anything but easy.

The Society of Hunters did exist, but now he was the only Hunter left.

The Undead he had encountered before could perhaps be recruited; they simply did not die and even treated death like a mere joke, thinking much about death nearing.

Those who do not respect death inevitably invite it, but what if one simply cannot die?

The ground beneath his feet was muddy and slippery, the blood had deeply stained it black and red.

The small pools of blood accumulated on the ground, reflecting the sky while also tinting it red.

"Snap!" A foot broke through the pool of blood, followed by more and more feet, countless feet.

Charles’s body twitched, shaken by the force applied to it, but he himself had no intention of resisting.

His organs were being devoured, his liver pierced by a pitchfork.

Until he heard a sound.

It was the sound of whooshing wind.

It was a burly man, laden with alluring treasures that dazzled like a treasury of gold, a knight.

The mad villagers were blown away, though they quickly got up trying to attack the Golden Knight, but the wind pushed them away, keeping them at bay.

"Can you still move?" the man tossed a potion.

A pure orange-yellow potion, creating fine bubbles as it swayed.

Exquisitely crafted Life Potion!

Charles quickly gulped down the Life Potion, the powerful force healing his body.

"Thanks," Charles looked towards the figure who stood unfazed at the center of the assault, like parting the seas, "Who are you?"

"Lind Armand," the Golden Knight said, "And you, friend, how should I address you?"

"Hunter."