Chapter 27: Golden Equipment

"Damn it, why won’t they just leave me alone?"

Seeing the massive procession below, Yi Thirteen could only feel a headache coming on. In his current situation, he didn’t dare to land at all. He could only gulp down a potion to restore his mana, then keep flying.

Only now did he have the time to check the quest that had just appeared.

[Undying Legion Prototype: The Undying Legion has emerged. Please confirm your choice.]

[Option One: Do nothing. The lives of others are none of your concern. Wait quietly for the end of the War World, let the countdown reach zero, return to the Mage Tower. No extra rewards.]

[Option Two: Join the Undying Legion. All living beings must fall to undeath! Each time you kill living beings within a certain range, you can earn rewards.]

[Option Three: Enemy of the Undying! Each time you purge an undead, you gain a reward, which can be claimed individually or accumulated. Purging undead increases your merit points!]

The string of three choices left Yi Thirteen a bit surprised!

The first option was the safest—just find a place to lay low and wait for the time to run out, then return. There would be no reward, but at least it was secure.

Now, the real consideration lay with the other two.

Joining the undead meant you earned rewards for every kill, implying even ordinary people counted. If one wanted to farm rewards, this was certainly an option.

The last one, however, meant taking the side opposed to the undead. Each undead counted as an individual reward, and there were merit points as well—which was truly surprising.

There was no need to hesitate. He chose the last option.

Not for any other reason—just for the merit.

In War World, merit was more precious than Paradise Coins.

"Where are you?"

Reluctant to use the private channel, he pulled out a Sound Transmission Talisman.

This was one of his own high-grade creations; as long as they were in the same world, it worked.

It did burn through mana, though.

"Thirteen? I’m in Ailran’s royal city. Where are you now?"

His good friend Wen Feng’s voice came through.

"Heh, you won’t believe it—I just hit the jackpot, I’m about to go to the royal city to claim my prize! Wait there, I’ll come meet up with you!"

Yi Thirteen boasted gleefully to Wen Feng.

"I’ll wait for you!"

After a brief exchange, they cut off communication.

The mana cost of the Sound Transmission Talisman was just too high. If the private channel wasn’t so expensive, he’d never use this thing.

Even though Yi Thirteen’s flying speed was impressive, the undead below were relentless in their pursuit.

He didn’t know how long he’d been on the run before he finally shook them off.

What he didn’t realize was that, on a distant hilltop, a withered figure stood hunched, quietly observing everything.

"What a perfect masterpiece!"

Gazing at his creation, the old man let out a sigh of admiration.

"Go forth, go forth, let more people witness your power, and let them remember that you are all my proudest works—Aimer von Claudi!"

As he spoke, the old man was wracked by a violent coughing fit.

He looked down at the glaring crimson in his palm, his expression melancholic.

"No matter how great, none can escape the relentless current of time..."

He took out a handkerchief, meticulously wiped the blood from his palm, then tossed it into the air, where it caught fire on its own and vanished without a trace.

Meanwhile, Wen Feng, Fang Yuan, and Wang Junfeng sat by the window on the second floor of a tavern, drinking as they surreptitiously watched a spot not far away.

"Was that Swordsman just now?" Wang Junfeng asked.

The sound from the Sound Transmission Talisman wasn’t shielded; sitting so close, of course they’d heard.

"Yeah," Wen Feng nodded.

"Looks like we’ll need to adjust our battle plan," Wang Junfeng said, his tone becoming serious. "Luckily, Old Fang is on his way, and with Yi Thirteen coming too, we’ll have both a sword cultivator and a formation master. Add the Four Paladin Brothers as tanks up front, and with our damage dealers, our chances will be even better."

Wen Feng nodded in agreement.

Fang Yuan, meanwhile, simply listened quietly, saying nothing. He was content to eat meat and drink wine—it was best to let others handle the thinking.

"There are plenty of White Knights. If we want to divert their attention, it won’t be easy to lure them away," Wen Feng frowned. "And individually, they’re no slouches. There are some terrifying experts among them."

"That’s true, but don’t worry—I’ve got a way," Wang Junfeng replied with a confident smile.

"Oh? Do tell," Wen Feng said, curious.

"Certified by the Mage Tower, you don’t need to hold back with me," he said. "Actually, it’s simple. There are plenty of players in the city, and some Blood Disciples as well. We can use them."

"While we can’t directly command these people, you know how players are: they never get up early without profit to be made. If there’s an advantage, they’re quicker than anyone. So getting them moving isn’t too hard. As for the Blood Disciples, they’re even easier—they thrive on chaos. Give them the right opportunity, and they’ll cause trouble on their own."

"Players are one thing, but can those Blood Disciples really be relied on?" Fang Yuan paused in his eating.

"Aren’t they just a bunch of vampire fanatics? What good are they?"

"You underestimate them," Wang Junfeng shook his head. "They may have started as mere vampire fanboys, but now, having been transformed by the vampires, they’ve become extraordinary themselves. There are some real experts among them now, and they’ve even recruited some fallen extraordinary individuals. Their strength is greater than you think."

Wen Feng and Fang Yuan exchanged glances, falling silent.

"Now, what I’m really thinking about is that chef kid—there’s something unusual about him," Wang Junfeng remarked, staring at the headquarters of the White Knights, whose entrance showed no signs of people coming or going. "He’s not as simple as he seems."

"What about him?" Wen Feng asked, puzzled.

He had a good impression of Mu Rongxun.

"I can’t quite put my finger on it," Wang Junfeng frowned. "But I get the sense that this kid is anything but a mere life player."

"He carries a heavy killing aura, and the sharpness about him is almost tangible," Fang Yuan cut straight to the heart of the matter.

"Exactly!" Wang Junfeng rapped his knuckles lightly on the table. "He feels like a drawn blade—razor-sharp and hard to ignore. His talent is extraordinary, sure, but there’s no way he’s just a life player."

"Doesn’t matter," Wen Feng shrugged it off. "As long as it doesn’t affect us getting the goods, the stronger he is, the easier our job will be."

"True enough," Wang Junfeng said, relaxing into a smile. "Everyone makes their own choices. As long as he pulls his weight in the team, who cares if he’s a life player or a combat player?"

"By the way, is that thing really worth five million? It’s only a gold-ranked piece of gear, isn’t it?" Fang Yuan still didn’t care about anything but their current objective.

"To us, it’s certainly not worth more than that—at most, a gold item tops out at five hundred thousand to a million. But to certain people, it’s an entirely different story," Wang Junfeng replied with a smile. "As long as we bring it back, we’ll get paid. With the Mage Tower as witness, there’s no way they’ll stiff us."