I'm The Only Necromancer In This Cultivation World-Chapter 68: Attacking The Bandits (part 1)

"Do not pursue!"

Roderic’s voice cut across the battlefield like a blade.

Several Dustwind warriors, already preparing to chase the retreating bandits, froze mid-step.

"Forget them!" Roderic barked. "All units, return to the town! Put out the fire before it spreads out!"

Smoke was rising thicker now, dark and angry against the sky. Even from the western gate, the crackling of flames could be heard when the wind shifted.

One of the body tempering practitioner stepped forward. "But my lord, if we press now, we can wound them further—"

"And leave our own town to burn?" Roderic snapped.

The elder fell silent.

Roderic turned his blade downward and exhaled sharply. "Form fire lines. Use the wells. Break the adjacent structures if you must. Contain it."

The gates were opened wider, and the Dustwind fighters poured back into the town, not in pursuit, but in urgency.

The battle was over.

But the damage had just begun.

----

Up in the tree, Aiden remained still.

His eyes followed the bandits as they withdrew in disciplined groups.

No Body Tempering practitioner had died.

Unfortunate.

But they didn’t leave intact either.

He could see it clearly even from a distance.

One of the Blood Fang practitioners was clutching his side, blood staining his armor. Another from Black Fang had a limp in his step. Even the scarred leader bore a deep cut across his shoulder.

They won today.

But they paid for it.

Aiden’s gaze shifted between the two retreating groups as they gradually separated along different paths through the hills.

Blood Fang moved north.

Black Fang veered east, toward the thicker forested terrain.

Aiden’s fingers tapped lightly against the bark.

He had no intention of returning to town.

While Roderic was busy saving what remained of his supplies, the real opportunity was walking away wounded.

He descended from the tree silently, landing on the ground without a sound.

Between the two groups...

Black Fang appeared slightly more injured.

And their leader had fought longer during the clash.

Aiden adjusted his robe and began moving along the outer treeline, keeping a careful distance as he tailed them.

The bandits didn’t notice him. They were focused on putting space between themselves and the town.

Several of them were laughing, even injured.

"Did you see Roderic’s face?" one of them said, grinning through bloodied teeth.

"He looked ready to explode!"

Another patted a sack slung over his shoulder. "Worth it. We’ll eat well for months."

They had no idea.

High above and behind them, moving through trees and brush with careful precision, Aiden followed like a silent shadow.

He wasn’t interested in their stolen grain.

He was interested in something far more valuable.

As the Black Fang bandits disappeared deeper into the forest, Aiden’s eyes darkened slightly beneath his hood.

By the time the Black Fang bandits reached their camp, it’s already night.

Their camp was hidden deep within the forest, built in a small clearing surrounded by thick trees and uneven ground. Wooden stakes formed a crude outer perimeter. Inside were rough tents, stacked crates, and a large central fire pit.

Two men were already there, guarding the place.

Ordinary bandits.

They straightened when they saw their companions returning.

"Boss, you’re back!"

"Did it work?"

Laughter answered them.

"It worked."

Sacks of grain were tossed onto the ground. A few injured men were helped toward makeshift benches. One of the Body Tempering practitioners, their leader, removed his shoulder armor, revealing a deep, bloodied gash.

"Get me cloth," he muttered.

In total, there were three Body Tempering practitioners in this camp now.

Around fifty normal bandits moved about, some celebrating, some tending to wounds.

Hidden among the trees at the edge of the clearing, Aiden watched quietly.

Three Body Tempering practitioners.

Fifty normal bandits.

If he had four ordinary Body Tempering fighters under him, the chance of destroying this camp head-on would be zero.

They would get surrounded. Exhausted. Overwhelmed.

But what he had...

Were not ordinary fighters.

He raised his hand slowly.

The air around him grew cold.

"Come," he whispered.

Dark mist spilled onto the forest floor.

One by one, four Bronze-grade undead stepped out from the shadows.

Vayne stood at the front, calm and silent, his presence heavier than the others. The remaining three Bronze-grade undead formed behind him, their movements stiff but powerful.

Then more shapes emerged.

Twelve Basic-grade undead.

Their eyes hollow. Their weapons simple but sharp.

Aiden activated his skill.

"Undead Reinforcement."

A faint gray aura wrapped around his undead army. Their frames seemed sturdier, movements slightly sharper.

He exhaled slowly.

No shouting.

No warning.

"Kill them," he said quietly.

The first scream came from one of the outer guards.

A Basic-grade undead burst from the treeline and drove a blade straight through his chest before he could react. The second guard barely managed to turn before Vayne appeared in front of him.

One clean slash.

His head hit the dirt.

The camp exploded into chaos.

"Attack! Attack!"

"Enemies!"

Bandits grabbed weapons, scrambling into formation. One of the Body Tempering practitioners roared and charged forward, meeting the first Bronze-grade undead head-on.

Their blades collided with a heavy clang.

Another Body Tempering fighter rushed toward Vayne, fury in his eyes.

"You dare—?!"

Vayne didn’t answer.

Their clash shook the ground beneath them.

Aiden stepped forward from the shadows, raising one hand.

"Bone Armor."

White bone-like plating formed over his body, covering his chest and arms in layered protection.

A group of normal bandits charged toward him.

He extended his hand.

"Bone Spear."

Three sharp bone spikes formed midair and shot forward like arrows. They pierced through two men instantly, throwing them backward. The third screamed as a spear punched through his thigh, pinning him to the ground.

The battlefield turned savage.

Basic-grade undead slammed into normal bandits without hesitation. Even when blades cut into them, they didn’t scream. Didn’t slow down.

One lost an arm.

It kept fighting.

Fear began to spread.

"What are these things?!"

"They don’t die!"

Aiden’s eyes glowed faintly.

"Fear Pulse."

A wave of invisible pressure expanded outward from him.

The normal bandits froze.