Chapter 137: Heading to Wei Ju Village
When everyone arrived at the hillside, they found nothing but a pile of scattered, messy wood. There was no village in sight. Looking around in every direction, there was only a stretch of blackened earth, pitted with holes and completely lifeless. Mo Fan had been here before and was certain that a village had once stood here. But the current scene could only mean one thing—the Church had already made their move.
“Are you messing with us?” the bearded man immediately said, his tone filled with anger.
“I… I don’t know what’s going on,” the Dwarf Man replied, his expression changing as he instinctively looked toward the muscular man. The muscular man’s eyes were filled with disbelief. Without saying another word, he suddenly dashed forward, sprinting down the slope like a madman. The scattered wood didn’t even resemble the remains of a proper hut, let alone a functioning village. Yet he kept running, ignoring the wandering undead nearby as if they didn’t exist.
“This is Yang Yang Village. No mistake. As for why it’s become like this… that’s the strange part,” Mo Fan said calmly.
“How do you know?” one of Asha Ruiya’s attendants asked.
“I’m a local. I don’t need to ask outsiders to confirm it,” Mo Fan replied bluntly.
The attendant was about to retort, but Asha Ruiya raised her hand slightly, silencing him immediately. The hierarchy among them was obvious—his status wasn’t high enough to argue.
Judging from the muscular man’s reaction, it was clear that this was indeed Yang Yang Village. Combined with Mo Fan’s previous visit, there was no doubt. Yet the entire village had vanished without a trace. If there had been fences, ruins, or even scattered belongings, it would at least prove its existence. But here, aside from a few broken pieces of wood and vast stretches of blackened earth, there was nothing left.
“Could Wei Ju Village have also fallen during the undead riot?” Liu Ru asked quietly.
“Possible,” Mo Fan replied. “If a new undead ruler has appeared, these so-called indigenous residents might not mean anything to it.”
“Let’s go down and check,” someone suggested.
Mo Fan didn’t object. He simply gestured for everyone to move.
As they descended into the remains of the village, they quickly noticed clear signs of burning. Charcoal lay everywhere in thick piles, and when the wind blew, a dirty gray mist drifted through the air.
“Not many corpses… but everything’s burned. I can’t tell what happened,” the bearded man reported to Asha Ruiya.
In truth, even if something had happened, it would have been nearly impossible to confirm. If the villagers had died, most would have turned into undead. And with the entire area reduced to ash, any blood or traces would have long been erased.
“So what now?” another attendant asked.
“We move to the next village. If that one is also like this…” Asha Ruiya said calmly, leaving the rest unsaid.
One village could be coincidence. Two could not.
The Dwarf Man was clearly reluctant to continue. He looked at the group and said, “It’s a two-day journey from here to Hua Village. I originally planned to rest here and save some ash garlic. At this rate, we’ll run out halfway.”
The problem was obvious—without ash garlic, they were exposed.
He suggested returning to the Ancient Capital first to resupply. But the muscular man revealed it would take months to obtain more.
“Let’s just push through. Going back wastes too much time,” the bearded attendant said decisively.
Mo Fan agreed.
At that moment, Asha Ruiya spoke, her voice soft yet clear. “Not all areas are filled with undead. Let’s conserve the ash garlic. Only use it when we’re overwhelmed.”
The Dwarf Man hesitated, but eventually nodded.
They continued onward. Although they encountered undead along the way, most were dealt with by Asha Ruiya’s two attendants. Occasionally, the Dwarf Man would step in, while Mo Fan, Liu Xian, Liu Ru, and Asha Ruiya remained mostly spectators. Their luck held—they avoided burial grounds and stayed safe until dawn approached, conserving much of their ash garlic.
“It’ll be light in about an hour,” the Dwarf Man said, glancing at his watch.
“I thought the undead here were terrifying. They’re just brainless corpses,” the bearded attendant, Ali, laughed.
“Brother… don’t say that,” the muscular man warned uneasily. “This land is sinister.”
Ali only laughed it off.
Ahead lay a stretch of loose, black mud. The sky above was thick with dark clouds, hanging unnaturally low.
“Rip—!!!”
A pale bolt of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating both the endless darkness above and the blackened earth below. It felt as if they were trapped inside a sealed world. The air grew heavy. Thunder rolled continuously as large drops of rain began to fall, striking the ground and splashing mud upward.
Mo Fan glanced at Ali. If he hadn’t seen it himself, he would’ve thought the timing was ridiculous.
“Damn it, it’s raining—we’re finished!” the Dwarf Man shouted, unease flooding his voice.
The rain intensified instantly. Lightning flashed again, and the world dissolved into a curtain of water. The ground turned to sludge, every step sinking deep into mud.
Another flash of lightning struck. This time, something appeared in the rain—a blood-red stream flowing toward their feet.
The sight was horrifying. Yet the heavy rain made it impossible to see what lay ahead.
“Hurry! The rain will wash away the ash garlic’s scent!” the muscular man shouted urgently.
Without that protection, they would instantly become targets for the undead.
“Damn it… the blood’s getting thicker. There’s probably a Corpse General nearby!” the Dwarf Man judged quickly.
No sooner had he spoken than a strange roar echoed. Massive Corpse Generals emerged—towering figures with blade-like limbs, as strong as oxen and grotesquely terrifying.
The Dwarf Man’s face turned pale.
But before he could react—
Liu Xian moved.
In an instant, the Corpse Generals were cut down.
The Dwarf Man stood there, completely stunned.