Lord Game: I Have 100 Million Talents-Chapter 185 - 113: Can’t Win, Can’t Provoke, Outrageous, and Broken
Rotting leaves emitted a festering groan underfoot, each step like crushing some viscous organ.
The branches of towering ancient trees twisted into postures of prayer. Gnarled vines dangled like hangman’s nooses. The undersides of the leaves, a sickly bluish-purple, oozed a fluorescent glow in the eternal twilight.
A cloying sweetness, a mixture of rust and musk, floated in the air, reminiscent of countless wounds slowly healing only to be torn open again.
Occasionally, patches of light filtered through the canopy, only to bend unnaturally before touching the ground, casting skewed, cross-like shadows upon the moss.
Inhuman whispers echoed through the woods, at times like the laughter of children, at others like the sobs of an old crone. But listen closely, and it became nothing more than the whistle of wind through bone.
The soil beneath the moss was warm; pressing a finger to it revealed a pulse-like tremor.
This was the Death Zone.
The Power of the Void, viscous as ink, had long since saturated every inch of the air, slithering and coiling through the woods like invisible vipers.
Any creature with even a shred of sanity who set foot here would find the whispers of the Evil God echoing uncontrollably in their ears.
At times, the voice was as tender as a lover’s whisper; at others, as hoarse as a beast from the Abyss. Every word was a poison-laced hook, stubbornly burrowing into the very depths of one’s soul.
It tempted you to shred the very sanity you clung to, urging you to abandon your name and all past bonds. With a simple nod, you could cast off every shackle and become the most devout servant at the feet of that supreme existence.
As if by simply submitting,
one could find an Eternal "home" in this deathly stillness.
"What do you say?"
"Arthas?"
"Rather than being seen as a vile Undead Creature by those humans in the south, only to end up tied to a stake, screaming as you burn to Ashes!"
"You’d be better off joining us, obtaining Eternal, Powerful strength, and then ruling this world completely!"
"Don’t forget!"
"You’re a Necromancer!"
"You possess the same power and nature as us Evil God Lords!"
"The more you fight!"
"The more powerful your strength and influence become!"
"There’s absolutely no need to be a lapdog for those creatures of the Order Faction!"
"Of course, if you insist on being some kind of ’Holy Mother Necromancer’ who sacrifices himself to protect others, then I can’t let you leave here today!"
Hearing this, the Necromancer Champion—oh, no, Arthas—glanced at the player named "Greed" and thought, ’This guy’s Oratory Skill is laughably bad.’
’With such a dry combination of threats and enticements, it’s no wonder he couldn’t recruit a single Heroic Unit after all this time.’
’However,’
’I can confirm one thing.’
’This guy completely failed to see through the disguise I created with my Clan Manager Talent.’
’He can’t even tell that "I" have already sworn allegiance to myself, that I’m a Necromancer who’s already spoken for, not some wild, unaffiliated native hero.’
’He only knows my name is Arthas.’
’And that I’m a survivor from the Elf Kingdom.’
’And that information is precisely the fixed data I intentionally revealed using my Clan Manager Talent—nothing more than a basic Blinding Technique to confuse my enemies.’
’Hmm...’
’It would be a real waste not to backstab him...’
’It would practically be an insult to his carelessness...’
With this in mind, Qin Feng had Arthas’s voice remain calm and impassive, as if recounting some old, irrelevant matter, and said slowly:
"Indeed."
"You have a point."
"I came from the ruins of the Elf Kingdom in the north."
"Though I’ve never shown any hostility toward those Forest Sub-humans, they’re always quick to judge, branding me a shameless thief who would resurrect their ancestors’ bones as Undead."
"I imagine,"
"those humans from the empires and kingdoms, who are even more hostile toward Undead Creatures,"
"won’t even give me a chance to explain."
Hearing this, the Evil God Player with the game ID "Greed" felt his heart leap as irrepressible joy surged through him.
He eagerly took half a step forward, his voice filled with undisguised anticipation, and quickly pressed:
"Does that mean you’re planning to join our Evil God Faction? And you’re willing to become a Heroic Unit under my command?"
Arthas shot him a cold glance, his tone devoid of any emotion:
"Take me to your territory first."
"I need to ascertain something first."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the other man like a blade forged in ice, and continued:
"Whether you actually have the qualifications and strength to make me willingly pledge my allegiance to you."
"I have no desire to just join any random Divine Chosen Lord."
"And waste my precious time."
The player named "Greed," completely unsuspicious, beamed with joy and hastily replied:
"Fine!"
"Follow me!"
"I guarantee you’ll be satisfied!"
The words had barely left his mouth when he seemed to remember something and quickly added:
"But, you have to keep your Undead Army at least a thousand meters away from me. That’s the only way I can keep you all in a state of Invisibility!"
Arthas’s brow furrowed slightly as he turned to give him a questioning look:
"What do you mean?"
The Greed player, completely off his guard and with a smug, boastful expression, launched into an explanation:
"This is a Divine Chosen treasure we received directly from the Great Evil God after pledging our allegiance."
"It’s called the Phantom Marching Badge." 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢
He paused, his tone filled with self-satisfaction:
"With this,"
"I and all nearby troops can enter a state of Invisibility."
"Unless we Actively engage in combat,"
"or encounter a special ability that can see through Invisibility,"
"otherwise, no one can discover our tracks. We can go wherever we want as if no one’s there, blah, blah, blah..."
