I'm The Only Necromancer In This Cultivation World-Chapter 47: Not Ordinary Fighters

The man looked worse than before.

His face was pale under the lantern light. His steps slightly unsteady, though he tried to mask it. The guards flanking him pretended not to notice.

The carriage door opened. Vayne climbed inside.

Four guards remained outside, two riding ahead, two behind.

They moved.

Aiden rose from the rooftop.

This was the moment he had prepared for.

The carriage rolled into a quieter district, where the buildings thinned and the streets widened. At this hour, there were no wandering merchants. No curious civilians. Only silence and the soft clatter of wheels against stone.

Then—

A shadow moved in the alley ahead.

One.

Then another.

Ten figures stepped out slowly, blocking the road.

They wore dark cloaks and leather armor. Masks covered their faces. Weapons hung at their sides. To any observer, they looked like a group of hired mercenaries waiting for trouble.

Behind the carriage, two more figures dropped soundlessly from the rooftops.

Bonefist.

Skullbreaker.

Unlike the basic undead, these two carried a heavier presence. Their armor was better.

Aiden stood in the darkness at the edge of the street, hidden where the lantern light couldn’t quite reach him.

All twelve undead were under his command.

Ten basic-grade.

Two bronze-grade.

The carriage slowed.

"What’s this?" one of the front guards barked, hand going to his sword.

The undead didn’t answer.

They simply stood there, silent and unmoving, blocking the path like a wall of iron.

Inside the carriage, Vayne shifted.

"Deal with it," he snapped from within, irritation heavy in his voice.

The guards dismounted.

Steel slid from scabbards.

The street, moments ago quiet and empty, now felt suffocating.

Aiden didn’t hesitate.

"Now."

The ten basic-grade undead moved at once.

They rushed forward in a tight formation, boots striking the stone in unison. Steel flashed under the moonlight as they drew their weapons and charged the four guards escorting the carriage.

"What the—?!" one of the guards shouted.

The clash came fast.

Swords met with a loud crack of steel. One guard managed to parry the first strike, but a second blade came from the side, forcing him to stumble back. The undead didn’t shout. Didn’t curse. They attacked with mechanical persistence, pressing forward no matter the resistance.

Behind them, Bonefist and Skullbreaker moved.

They didn’t go for the guards.

They went straight for the carriage.

Bonefist reached it first. His weapon gloves, dark gauntlets lined with iron ridges, slammed into the wooden frame. The impact exploded through the carriage with a thunderous boom. Wood splintered. The entire vehicle tilted violently.

Skullbreaker followed with a brutal swing of his spiked club.

The iron-studded weapon smashed into the carriage wheel, shattering it in one blow. The spike tore through wood and metal alike, ripping the structure apart.

The horses screamed and bolted.

The carriage collapsed.

The door burst open from the inside.

Vayne stepped out in a single fluid motion, landing on his feet amid the wreckage.

Unharmed.

A sword gleamed in his hand.

His eyes, though slightly dulled from earlier, now burned with anger.

"You dare—?!"

He didn’t finish.

Bonefist lunged first, fist cutting through the air toward Vayne’s ribs.

Vayne twisted sharply. The punch grazed his side instead of landing cleanly, but even so, the force cracked the stone beneath his boots when Bonefist followed through.

Vayne’s expression shifted.

Strength.

Real strength.

He retaliated instantly, his blade flashing in a tight arc aimed at Bonefist’s neck.

The sword struck.

A clean hit.

But there was no spray of blood.

No cry of pain.

The blade bit into flesh, yet the body did not react like it should. No recoil. No stagger.

Instead, Bonefist grabbed Vayne’s wrist with his free hand.

Cold.

Unnaturally cold.

Vayne’s eyes widened.

"What—?"

Before he could finish, Skullbreaker charged from the side. The spiked club whistled through the air. Vayne released his sword hand and leapt back just in time, the club smashing into the ground where he had stood. Stone shattered outward in fragments.

Meanwhile, the guards were struggling.

One guard drove his sword straight through the chest of a cloaked attacker. The blade pierced cleanly through.

He froze.

The man in front of him didn’t even grunt.

The attacker simply grabbed the sword with both hands and pulled himself closer along the blade.

The guard stumbled back in horror. "Why aren’t they bleeding?!"

Another guard slashed across an undead’s arm, cutting deep. The sleeve tore. Something pale and rigid flashed beneath the fabric.

Not muscle.

Bone.

The undead continued forward, relentless.

"Monsters!" someone shouted.

But monsters didn’t wear armor like men.

Monsters didn’t move in formation.

Back at the center of the street, Vayne steadied himself.

He was not a beginner Body Tempering practitioner.

His muscles tightened, veins rising along his forearms. His stance lowered. His aura sharpened.

When he moved this time, it was different.

He burst forward with explosive speed, far faster than before. His sword cut downward toward Skullbreaker’s shoulder. The impact was heavy enough to force even the bronze-grade undead back a step.

Vayne followed with a spinning kick that struck Bonefist square in the chest.

Bonefist slid back across the pavement but did not fall.

Vayne’s breathing grew heavier.

"These aren’t normal fighters..." he muttered.

He looked around.

His guards were being overwhelmed, not because they were weak, but because their enemies refused to fall. Even pierced, even slashed, they kept coming.

No fear.

No hesitation.

No pain.

Aiden watched from the darkness at the edge of the street, his eyes calm.

Undead did not exist in this world.

There were no stories. No legends.

So Vayne had nothing to compare this to.

Only confusion.

Bonefist stepped forward again, rolling his shoulders as if the kick had meant nothing. Skullbreaker lifted his spiked club once more, the metal tip glinting under the moonlight.

The ten basic-grade undead tightened the circle.

The street that had been silent minutes ago was now filled with shattered stone, broken wood, and the sound of steel striking something that refused to die.