Chapter 439
Chapter 439: Treasure Hunter Flesh Render’s Ominous Premonition
“Lord Flesh Render, Plague Fang died so miserably! Those damned Transian knights not only killed it, but they also hung its head as a trophy in their camp to intimidate our gnoll brethren who are still resisting human tyranny in the area.
I barely escaped with my life to bring you this news!
Those humans are despicable!
You must deploy your armies quickly to eliminate them.”
In Plague Town within the Foul Swamp, Hog was lying before the angry-faced Flesh Render, wearing a tattered leather armor with a “battle-damaged” look. The skinny gnoll chieftain was now bruised and swollen, with unhealed wounds still on its body. The blood-stained armor hung in tatters, and there were swollen injuries on both its mouth and neck. Every word it spoke made its whole body tremble in pain.
Although there must be some exaggeration here, Flesh Render could feel the fear surging in this fellow’s heart as it reported the battle results.
That emotion couldn’t be faked, enough to prove that everything that happened on the Transian border wasn’t fabricated.
The forces it sent to raid the Transian armament factory and military camps had indeed met with disaster.
“How did you lead them so badly!”
Flesh Render was both angry and helpless at this moment, shouting:
“Didn’t I tell you not to cross the Transian border to provoke the Goldflower Kingdom’s army? Why did you end up near Malo Town while walking? You should have headed north along the Smuggler’s Woods!
Tell me!
Were you the one playing tricks?”
“I’m wronged, my lord! I’m wronged.”
Hog screamed and lowered its head, revealing a fearful and cowardly demeanor.
It tremblingly explained the whole story, but Flesh Render neither responded immediately nor believed it, instead waiting in place with a cold aura.
Hog didn’t return alone.
According to itself, it had also sacrificed all its personal guards on the battlefield to save a Plague Mage, that unfortunate one who had lost an arm and a leg to the student party was now receiving “treatment” in the lower levels of the Plague Tower.
Several minutes later, a blood-covered gnoll mage who had just finished “surgery” walked quickly over and whispered in Flesh Render’s ear:
“We’ve questioned Plague Claw, it described the whole process, which matches what this crippled lowborn said. They were strictly following your instructions through the Smuggler’s Woods, but encountered a vampire’s mage tower.
These Blood Claw idiots didn’t recognize that kind of vampire mage tower, but Plague Fang knew the danger and actively chose to take the side road, which fits its cautious personality. Unfortunately, this overly prudent choice led them to unfortunately encounter the Goldflower Kingdom’s patrol.
After the battle started, it evolved into a mess.
Plague Fang finally cast the Netherworld Contract spell, the dead near Malo Town will continuously be awakened until all the dead are eliminated. Estimating from the number of people who died there during the Ten-Year War, their trip wasn’t entirely fruitless.
That continuously operating ritual will draw the Pioneer Army’s attention. If the Goldflower people can’t eliminate the effect within 2 months, that place will become our source of troops again when the Black Plague army arrives!”
“What kind of victory is this bullshit! Not only did we fail to achieve our original goal, but we’ve also attracted more attention! It’s indeed beneficial for the Black Plague, but it’s a threat to us! How stupid! Plague Fang deserved to die!
Good riddance!”
Flesh Render, having learned the truth, was almost driven mad with anger.
The current situation was intolerable to it. They had their own mission to complete in Plague Town, but now not only had they failed to repel the nearby Transians, they had also attracted the attention of the Silans.
This was the worst possible situation for the Plague Clan.
However, at this point, it couldn’t demand anything more.
Although it could certainly kill Hog here to vent its anger, for a cunning mage like Flesh Render, every piece of rotten flesh had its use, let alone someone like Hog who was both clever enough and unfortunate enough.
It waved its claw, ordering the gnoll mage who was responsible for treating Plague Claw to send that half-dead fellow to the Construction Tower for Lame Claw to “recycle”, then fixed its cold sharp gaze on Hog.
The Blood Claw chieftain was so frightened it curled into a ball on the ground.
Hog’s body size was already much smaller than normal gnolls, let alone compared to the more robust Dark Mountain gnolls. Its unsightly appearance quickly made Flesh Render lose interest in it.
The gnoll mage snorted and said sternly:
“You’ve made a mistake, Hog. I should punish you severely, but the clan is in need of people right now, so I’ll give you a chance to atone for your crimes! Return to your clan immediately, take your clansmen to attack those Transians who are building defense lines outside the swamp preparing to enter it.
I don’t need you to inflict any casualties on them, you probably couldn’t achieve that anyway.
I just want you to obstruct them, to delay them, until the Plague Clan completes its mission in the Foul Swamp.
It won’t be long now.”
“Ah?”
Hog was stunned upon hearing this order sending them to their deaths.
It trembled its mouth as if engaged in intense internal struggle, and after several seconds, Hog sighed.
It said:
“I understand, my lord. I will throw all my elite clansmen out there to buy time for you, but I hope… I mean, if I lose my clan in this operation, could I join your Plague Clan?”
“Hmph, if you perform well, it’s not impossible to consider.”
Flesh Render said casually:
“Now get out, go do your job, and if you mess things up again, see if I don’t take your head! Let your rotting body become a member of the skeleton army, continuing to serve the great cause of the gnolls.”
Hog trembled again in fear, then with an obedient face limped away from Flesh Render’s territory.
Watching this crippled lowborn leave, a cruel flash appeared on Flesh Render’s gloomy face with its unpredictable expressions. If going by its previous temperament, someone like Hog who was more harm than help would definitely be thrown into the undead pit and made into a walking corpse, as a warning about the consequences of messing things up.
However, at this moment Flesh Render had very complicated emotions surging in its heart.
It couldn’t clearly explain where this baseless worry came from, but as a Silver rank spirit energy user, the mysterious part of its power seemed to be warning it.
Danger was approaching, and it was right beside itself.
Flesh Render decided to perform a divination.
However, this divination result wasn’t much different from many previous ones, the scattered patterns of the thrown tortoise shells predicted that its upcoming treasure hunting expedition would definitely not go smoothly, and might even be life-threatening.
In the past, Flesh Render would definitely not undertake something so dangerous, but now there was no time left for it to continue hesitating.
Their clan being dispatched to the Foul Swamp to search for the King Gnawbone’s hidden treasury was a joint decision made by several major clan chieftains of the Dark Mountains, this represented both exile and a “test” for the Plague Clan.
If Flesh Render could successfully bring back King Gnawbone’s lost treasury, then its clan could join the “upper class” of the Dark Mountains.
If it couldn’t do it, then even if the Plague Clan escaped back to the Dark Mountains, they would be absorbed by other major clans.
Gnoll society wasn’t so warmhearted, once a clan showed weakness and had no backing, it meant catastrophe. Having grown up in the Dark Mountains since childhood, Flesh Render understood this principle best.
It pondered for a long time in its territory before tremblingly taking out a pearl bracelet from a hidden place that Murphy would find very familiar.
It activated the communication formation on it, and after waiting patiently for a long time, the communication activated.
Flesh Render said with a hint of reverence to the other side:
“Lord Source, we are about to begin exploring the Ningkinanka territory. We can confirm that King Gnawbone’s lost treasury is in one of the caves there, but we need help from you. You promised before that you would help us at crucial moments.”
“Of course, I remember every word I’ve said, every promise I’ve made will eventually be fulfilled.”
The woman’s voice that had previously conversed remotely with Tris came through the communication. Her tone and timbre weren’t much different from before, but Flesh Render keenly sensed a hint of weakness in this mysterious figure’s words.
She was injured?
This is really rare…
Flesh Render thought to itself, but showed no outward change.
“I will send a capable subordinate to your location to assist you in finding the civilization symbol of the gnolls. You can take it back to the Dark Mountains and successfully become one of the leaders of this Black Plague.
But Flesh Render, this help isn’t free.
When you get what you want, you must help me obtain what I want…
Hmph, wait, the person I send will contact you.”
After speaking, the mysterious “Source” very decisively cut off communication. Flesh Render, having received the promised help, wasn’t very happy.
It knew this was a quagmire before it.
Every time it sought power from them, it would sink deeper in, and regrettably, the Plague Clan had developed to a point where it could no longer separate from this organization.
It also knew it wasn’t just the Plague Clan.
Currently among the major gnoll clans in the Dark Mountains, except for the Gnawbone Clan who claimed to be the orthodox rulers of the gnolls, almost all had intricate connections with this organization.
What was unsettling wasn’t Dusk’s eager assistance, but their lack of demand for returns.
This proved these madmen’s desire wasn’t conquest or power, their pleasure in destruction itself far exceeded what they would gain from it.
Such thinking and mentality belonged to quite an extreme faction even in gnoll society.
Sigh.
Flesh Render hid that pearl necklace well and came to the tower window leaning on the soul bone staff.
It looked out over the depths of the Foul Swamp with a cold gaze, knowing that whether struggling or rising up, the time left for itself and its clan wasn’t much.
Legendary items ah.
If it had a choice, it would definitely not consume the elite clansmen it had spent a lifetime accumulating on such creatures, this was simply too stupid. However, it had signed a contract with power, and driven by ambition had stepped onto this point of no return. It had gone too far and fate would not allow it to turn back.
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“Brother Lame Claw, I’ve come to say goodbye to you, or perhaps farewell would be more appropriate.”
The dejected Hog left the Plague Tower and meandered its familiar way to the Construction Tower to find the madman Lame Claw who was “busy” here.
The latter was currently wearing a butcher’s leather apron using a rusty bone-splitting cleaver to process that unfortunate mage Hog had rescued from the battlefield.
Plague Claw lay so desolately on the butcher’s table.
When it was brought back by Hog it was seriously injured but still alive. Unfortunately, the light of life had now left its eyes.
It was dead.
Not by enemy hands, but by its own people’s after surviving death.
No wonder on the way back, Plague Claw kept begging Hog to leave it somewhere to die or just finish it off, it turned out this fellow already knew what would happen when brought back to Plague Town.
Precisely because it served evil, it understood better than anyone just how cruel evil could be.
“Huh?”
Hearing Hog’s dejected voice, Lame Claw who was fully absorbed in its work turned its head 180° to stare at Hog in an eerie way.
Still those two eyeballs that couldn’t focus together, still that drooling mouth, still that mad demeanor, but after multiple “trades”, Lame Claw’s attitude toward Hog had become much more “gentle”.
Perhaps in its eyes, Hog was a “capable” helper who could always help it find various things it urgently needed but couldn’t get.
Like the vampire heart currently being placed inside Lame Claw’s corpse – soaked in voodoo, causing bizarre swelling and emitting red-green light.
“Why say farewell? Are you going to die? Hog, you’re a good friend, I would be very sad if you died like this. Do you want me to plant the Corpse Mage seed in you in advance?”
Lame Claw, covered in stitching scars, said in a muffled voice:
“This way if you die you won’t really die, you’ll be revived by death power as an immortal corpse mage, I’ll keep you by my side as an assistant.
Your constant depression about being short and not respected can also be improved.
If you’re willing, I can take out your brain and put it in an ogre’s skull, then you can have the power you’ve always wanted.
Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt at all!
Yes!
None of those I operated on before ever screamed in pain, so it definitely doesn’t hurt.”
“Forget it, I don’t want to experience such a horrifying treatment process.”
Hog twisted its mouth.
It rolled its eyes and pleaded:
“Lord Flesh Render sent me to attack those fierce Transians, telling me to make up for my mistakes, but I know I’m dead for sure on this mission, so could I get what might be my last batch of aid from here?
I mean, I want to use up the favors I’ve stored with you, in exchange for things that can transform my clansmen, at least let these poor wretches serve the Plague Clan one last time before dying.”
“Ha, don’t be so pessimistic.”
Lame Claw seemed to truly value Hog.
Seeing Hog so desperate, it paused the corpse construction it was doing, took off its blood-covered gloves while beckoning to Hog, leading it into its living quarters that were as messy as a garbage dump, and rummaged among various odd items.
Several minutes later, Lame Claw pulled out a dirty bag from the bottom of the mess and threw it to Hog.
The Blood Claw chieftain took a look at what it held and found it contained over a dozen bottles and jars filled with strangely colored liquids.
It looked suspiciously at Lame Claw, who explained:
“This is a potion I found in Flesh Render’s Ghost Grimoire. I don’t know if I made it correctly, but I once fed it to my dying dire wolf, and that fierce beast was like it had been injected with substantial rage, biting several goatman acolytes to death before actually dying.
So I feel it must be useful.
If your cowardly subordinates cannot win glory for the gnolls on the battlefield, then give them this stuff. Don’t drink too much, one sip per person is enough.
They will definitely die after drinking it, but this thing can guarantee their death journey becomes quite ‘spectacular’.”
“Is it that powerful?”
Hog stared wide-eyed at the dirty bag in its hands and the strange-colored potion bottles within, happily accepting them. When leaving, it said to Lame Claw:
“Um… can you give me the formula? If I can survive, maybe I could restart in the Dark Mountains by selling this stuff.”
“Oh, formula, let me think.”
Lame Claw scratched hard at its Frankenstein-like stitched scalp, finally rummaging through that pile of junk, and when it really couldn’t find anything stamped its foot, tore off a piece of beast hide and wrote and drew on it before handing it to Hog.
This mad constructor patted its chest and guaranteed:
“It’s definitely correct! Although I might have gotten a few steps wrong, and can’t remember clearly the dosage of core materials, but I can guarantee you can make something similar with this stuff.
Ah, my capable seeker Hog, I sincerely hope you can survive this suicide mission, so we can continue our delightful trades.
I mean, I have many, many more ‘ideas’.
Unfortunately, old, stupid and stubborn Flesh Render cannot satisfy my exploration of the path of necromancy.
Tch, if my life casket wasn’t with it, I would have started anew long ago.”