The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 445 - 374: Exile Outpost

Chapter 445: Chapter 374: Exile Outpost

The distance from the outpost at the Gate of Mephisto to the Exile’s outpost wasn’t far, roughly two days’ travel, but Lind made sure to appear well-protected.

As a "service industry practitioner," Lind paid great attention to the experience of the Undead.

When they reached the cliff, he deliberately stopped for a long time. Although the Undead were eager to complete their mission, they were powerless in the face of Lind’s reluctance to proceed.

No matter what game you play, escort missions are like this, dragging their heels to extend the gameplay.

"The terrain has changed, it’s different from what the Crystal Mage recorded, but..." Lind looked down below.

If it were only a matter of terrain, it couldn’t stump the Great Knight. They could let down a rope ladder or simply a rope to descend.

The nearly perfect terrain also gave Lind a significant advantage in defense. Assuming the front fortresses of the Calamity Executioners had completely fallen, it wouldn’t be so simple for the creatures from the Abyss to escape.

The terrain advantage might be the world’s last act of mercy toward humanity.

Besides, Lind thought further, what he could gain from this battle. Defeating the Abyss would surely bring huge benefits, there was no doubt about it.

Apart from these, the Undead should also offer something.

"Is there a hidden quest?"

"It seems so."

"I heard that direction leads to the Abyssal Great Rift!"

"Damn, how do we get down?"

The Undead were also researching, but they couldn’t have imagined that the NPC beside them was contemplating how to draw the knife across their throats, to cut deeply and ruthlessly.

After a short stay, the group moved on.

As they entered the village of the Exiles, seeing the sky full of flesh flies, Lind slightly frowned but, instinctually, the flesh flies didn’t come close to him.

The aura emanating from Lind was like that of a big boss. Externally he appeared human, but in comparison, his true form should parallel with Baron Ronan, the Snake People, Dragon King Kote, and at the very least, a Crimson Knight four or five meters tall.

However, the Undead were in a bad spot, only able to continuously swing their weapons to ward off the flies.

Still, there were those who reacted quickly, either activating barriers or lighting torches to keep the flies at bay and ensuring their safety from further harassment.

When encountering Calamity along the road, the Undead did not require orders from Lind. They weren’t in the mindset of merely completing a mission, but rather were racing to beat the monsters.

Those who acted quickly had, and those who were slow missed out!

By the time they reached the Exiles’ outpost, it was already the evening of the second day. The outpost featured a lifted iron door, which could be opened by turning a steering wheel that wound a chain, which, in turn, lifted the iron door.

There were only a few scattered individuals here.

A man dressed in tattered clothes, his head covered with a large iron caged helmet, was lying on the ground.

He suddenly lunged forward.

"Haha! Got it!"

He lifted his hand, revealing a cockroach as big as his palm, black as pitch.

"Damn, he’s not going to eat it, is he?" an Undead couldn’t help but say.

"I’m not an idiot!" to their surprise, the man turned around.

The iron cage completely covered his head, with only holes for the mouth, nose, and eyes.

He was a Pustule Exile!

"I’m just catching it for fun," the exile said, pointing to a room made of wood and mud, "that’s where all the food you’ve brought us is."

"I am Lind Armand, where is Boyd?" Lind’s attitude was placid.

According to his understanding, the Pustule Exiles were not good people; they were essentially death-row inmates who had committed unforgivable crimes, and every country had its share of condemned criminals.

And the Catastrophe Executioner squads would go to various countries to seek out these criminals, taking them to the front lines where they could resist the Abyss and atone for their sins with their sinful bodies before death, making use of themselves for one last time.

People who should have died living another day was a profit.

Whether one should be thankful to a group of death-row inmates who once caused countless tragedies for protecting the world was a profoundly contradictory matter.

"Ah, you’re the one they talked about!" As soon as the exile stood up, he quickly retreated backward, keeping a bit more distance from Lind, showing his instinctive fear of nobles.

"He, he is inside painting." The exile pointed at another low, squat mud hut as he spoke.

"Wait here," Lind commanded briefly, then walked toward the mud hut, pushed the door open, and entered. A skylight was opened above, allowing light to pour in.

It was as if a tangible column of light fell precisely on the canvass.

A hunchbacked, emaciated figure wearing an iron helmet was engrossed in painting.

"Boyd?" Lind spoke.

The hunched figure slowly turned around and sized Lind up and down through the holes of his iron helmet: "Lind Armand?"

He rose, offering Lind a bow with all the dignity of a noble.

"That painting you did back then was good."

"Yes, I remember it was when you were 17. I believed then that you would become a powerful noble, but looking at you now, it seems I was too conservative in my judgment." Although Boyd didn’t have the carefree demeanor he used to, his speech still retained the elegant habits of a noble.

"We have had different life experiences."

Lind did not ask why Boyd had ended up like this; if the other man did not wish to speak of it, he would curb his curiosity out of respect for someone who once had dignity.

"I heard you organized an Expedition Army against the Abyss?"

"That’s right."

"Then, did you respond to the call of a certain voice?"

Lind’s gaze flickered, "Of course... not, so you heard it?"

"Those voices affect creation, I hate having people talk incessantly at my ear when I am painting, but since coming here, it’s gotten a lot better."

"You’ve got a nice paint hut." Lind looked up at the hole in the roof.

Boyd said, "I had the ’Rat Catcher’ help me with that. It rarely rains here, so there’s no need to worry."

The day had turned to evening, and it was clear that Lind was destined to spend the night here, so he wasn’t in a hurry to have Boyd assist him.

"When you have time, you could paint another one for me."

"One painting is enough?"

"City Lord of Star Dragon City, Snake Catcher Fortress, Black Island Lord, Goblin Castle Lord, Duke of the Rand Kingdom, and General of the Rand Legion." Lind nonchalantly counted on his fingers, then sighed, "You’ve got your work cut out for you."

"Hahaha!" Boyd could not help but laugh out loud, "You’re much more interesting than you used to be, Lind! When I painted your portrait back then, your two hands were like they were stuck to your knees with honey. You were the best-behaved boy I’d ever seen!"

"That’s the best compliment I’ve heard." Lind said with a smile, enjoying the chance to chat in a jovial atmosphere.

That’s why he could never become a serious king.

As the Lord of Newbie Village, being amicable and kind was definitely more important.

"I know you must have many questions, but in exchange, you’ll have to answer some of mine!" Boyd said.

"If you don’t feel inferior, the size can also be disclosed to you."

"It would be even better if I could see it with my own eyes, I would draw your album seriously!"

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