Chapter 214: Hahaha, Caught an Undead

"Aaaah!" Ang let out a roar, unleashing a violent soul shockwave that exploded the skulls of every rat in the field, leaving them dead on the ground.

"Huh? Rats? How are there rats here?" Serina exclaimed.

"No rats here? This entire mountain range has no rats?" Nagris asked in surprise.

"Of course not. I come up here often—I've never seen a single rat. Look at how barren this mountain is. What could rats possibly eat to survive?" Serina said.

That made sense. Rats weren't undead—they might be hardy, but they still needed food to live. The mountain was all rock, with almost no vegetation. How could rats possibly survive here?

"Then where did these rats come from?" Nagris asked curiously.

A weak, wavering voice drifted from deep within the cave, trembling and timid: "I… I brought them. I didn't know this was your place, my lord. I won't do it again. I swear I won't."

Following the voice, a wisp of smoke drifted out from behind a rock, its form flickering uncertainly as it crept forward hesitantly.

"An undead?" It was indeed an undead: "Did you strike it?"

Ang shook his head. He hadn't even noticed it. To his soul shockwave, this undead was no different from the rats—naturally, he hadn't sensed it.

Undead and liches are both high-tier undead beings, for they possess intelligence.

Skeletons and zombies must reach the Golden Skeleton and Iron-Skin Zombie realms to gain intelligence, but their intellect remains low.

Undead and liches are different—they are born with intelligence. If they were once living intelligent beings, they retain their memories and knowledge from life.

This gives them a greater advantage over zombies and skeletons, making them the backbone of undead society.

Almost all high-ranking officials in undead empires are undead or liches, with rare exceptions like Bonehard Locke.

Among them, undead are far rarer than liches. Witch City has several liches, including Phyllin and Lisa; Ice City's Lan is also a lich. Yet the entire Resting Abyss holds not a single undead—proof of how difficult it is to become one.

Undead are pure soul-formed undead beings, their souls naturally more condensed. Even at low levels, they possess greater advantages than skeletons or zombies of the same rank.

But this advantage meant nothing before Ang. His soul shockwave wasn't even aimed at the undead—he didn't even notice its presence—but the undead nearly shattered from the blast.

Drifting to Ang's side, the undead trembled and whispered: "S-Sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to. I truly didn't know this was yours. My pets were hungry, and they happened to find something on the ground, so… so…"

"You keep rats? What's your name?" Nagris asked.

"My lord, I'm F…Ferick," Ferick replied.

"How did you end up here?" Nagris asked.

"I'm a merchant, on my way to human lands to acquire goods," Ferick said.

"You're a merchant? Why do you bring rats with you?" Nagris asked, puzzled.

Ferick hesitated, glancing at Ang, then sighed: "My lord, it's my secret. The Central Mountain Range is full of fissures and caves—some small, but still passable. My pets can sniff out the routes that can be traversed."

Though reluctant, Ferick answered truthfully. Nagris spoke to Ang through soul-link: "He seems to have mistaken us for local high-tier undead."

That was normal. Ang was a Golden Skeleton; even his soul strength alone could suppress Ferick. Add to that his status as the God of Undeath, and in a society where undead rank by soul power, Ang was impossibly high—no wonder the other was terrified.

Understanding this, Nagris knew what to do: "You're a merchant. What do you trade? Where are your goods?"

Ferick pulled out a space ring with visible pain, thinking bitterly: "I'm ruined. How did I run into a high-tier king? Oh well—better to lose money than lose my soul."

As an undead merchant, Ferick's soul wasn't strong—roughly equivalent to a Gray Bone Skeleton. For undead, this was the lowest possible level; weaker than that, and he couldn't even form a stable soul.

That's why undead are so rare—they must be born with at least Gray Bone Skeleton-level soul strength. Without it, they simply cannot come into existence.

But Ferick had soul strength without combat ability. In life, he'd been an accountant; as an undead, that skill was useless—he was weaker than even a common mage.

Though he could use Undead Holy Flame to learn knowledge quickly, he refused to pledge loyalty to any Undead Saint, so he never got the chance. Eventually, he became a merchant.

He was already immortal. Even if he lost money, he wouldn't starve.

To trade, he had to go to human lands—undead had no commerce. Four months out of every year, they slept. Only during Eternal Night did they stir.

But to reach human lands, the Central Mountain Range was a natural barrier. Humans had built watchtowers, defense towers, soul towers—all designed to suppress undead. As an undead, he couldn't cross easily.

Ordinary humans, however, weren't detected by soul towers. As long as they avoided the defense tower nodes, they could slip through—even if spotted by watchtowers, it didn't matter.

Soul towers were useless—their detection range was too broad, and they specifically targeted souls. Even high-tier kings couldn't withstand a direct soul strike.

So crossing the Central Mountain Range required another path.

By chance, Ferick discovered rats had an uncanny ability to find routes. Even where no path existed, they could locate narrow crevices and crawl through. So he kept a few as pets, using them to scout paths through the Central Mountain Range.

Today, he returned to the Central Mountain Range, planning to rest and feed his pets, when he spotted freshly tilled soil. His pets, once released, immediately dug for seeds.

"Probably planted by humans below," Ferick thought. "They won't eat much—I'll compensate them with something else." He'd already prepared to pay, when suddenly a high-tier king burst in and unleashed a furious soul shockwave.

That wasn't a soul shockwave—it was a soul storm. It swept over like a hurricane. Even though he'd hidden behind a rock, he was caught in the blast. Had the shockwave hit him directly instead of being blocked by the stone, he'd have exploded right then.

This high-tier king was more terrifying than any Undead Saint he'd ever met. Ferick dared not think of resistance—he'd obey. If the king decided to use his soul for something, he'd have no tears left to cry.

Watching him pull the ring from his smoky body, the little angel curiously trotted over, wanting to poke it with her finger—but Ang called her back.

From afar, he hadn't noticed, but up close, Ferick sensed a terrifying holy light radiating from the little angel.

Such terrifying holy light? A saintess? This high-tier king could command a saintess of the Light Church? Ferick's heart pounded. His hands moved faster.

"This is a spirit scroll, this is a human knight novel, this is a recording stone of castrato singing, this is a banshee's spirit rune, this is the Hero vs. Dragon board game, this is Locke King Poker, this is a Yuanling clock…" Ferick listed his wares as he pulled out a pile of bizarre goods.

Nagris looked curiously, unable to resist asking: "Why are most of these entertainment and cultural items?"

Ferick replied: "These sell well. I can't haul back food or tools—my space ring has limited capacity, and they wouldn't fetch a good price."

Nagris nodded. He understood. To undead, there was no need for food, so no need for pots, pans, or bedding. No need for sheets or pillows.

The only real demand was entertainment. For immortal beings, how to pass the endless time was the real problem. They couldn't just sleep all day.

Knight novels, singing stones, board games—these sold well.

"What about the spirit scrolls and Yuanling clocks?" Nagris asked.

Ferick glanced at the little angel, leaned close to Huang Tong, and whispered: "For that kind of use, of course. Several series: the Duchess's Lady, the Smooth Saintess, oh, and the Eighteen Postures of the Shapeshifting Dragon—perfect for you. These sell extremely well to humans. Open them, and they trigger vivid spirit illusions."

"My lord, you know undead excel at crafting spirit scrolls. One such scroll costs only three hundred magic crystals, yet humans can't get enough."

Nagris was intrigued—curious about the Eighteen Postures of the Shapeshifting Dragon.

"As for the Yuanling clocks—they're alarm clocks. Some humans are lazy—can't wake up in the morning, can't sleep at night. They need something to jolt them. Set the time, and when it hits, the Yuanling inside screams. Even someone who hasn't slept in ten days will wake up, chilled from crown to toe—works perfectly."

"Useful for studying too. One scream from the Yuanling, and you're wide awake."

Hearing this, Nagris couldn't help but feel pity: "That's cruel."

"Don't worry," Ferick said with a knowing tone. "Most people buy them and toss them under the bed. Only those who actually use them don't need alarms."

"That's true. Any other good items?" Nagris asked.

"Uh… aren't these good enough for you? I'm just an ordinary undead merchant. These are my best goods," Ferick said, shaking his ring casually.

"The ring's got one bag of grain seeds…" He'd barely finished when Nagris and Ang leaned in, eyes gleaming: "What kind of grain seeds?"

"Uh, they're human-bred seeds adapted to this plane's growing season. Planted during Eternal Night, they sprout after it ends, mature in two and a half months, and are harvested before the next Eternal Night arrives. Their root systems are huge, burrowing deep into the soil, needing no watering—just surface moisture. Yield is high: 220 jin per mu."

"220 jin per mu is high? Take it. This will be your compensation. Your offense is forgiven," Nagris said in surprise.

On Ang's hands, grain seeds already yielded over a thousand jin per mu. Even the Saltwater Magic Rice yielded six to seven hundred jin per mu. Hearing 220 jin called "high" was incomprehensible.

Ferick was moved to tears, hardly believing it: "Really? But this stuff isn't worth much…"

A small bag of grain seeds was worthless—except for the difficulty of crossing the mountains. But he'd just picked them up as a side favor from a farmer. The high-tier king didn't want anything else—just this worthless thing.

He didn't think Ang was interested in grain seeds—he simply believed the king was merciful, unwilling to bully him. It moved him deeply.

Hastily, he placed the seeds into Nagris's claw, then asked cautiously: "My lord, may I leave now?"

"Leave? Where are you going?" Nagris tossed the seeds to Ang, asking casually.

"I'm heading to the human lands on the other side of the mountain," Ferick said.

"Perfect. We're going the same way. Guide us. You've crossed so many times—you must know a safe route," Nagris said.

Ferick hesitated. Honestly, he didn't want to. The mountain routes were his secret. If others learned them, he'd have new competitors.

At Nagris's signal, Ang pulled out ten soul crystals and held them out to Ferick.

"Respected King, I'm honored to guide you. Rest assured, the routes I've explored are safe and hidden—I'll get you safely to the other side," Ferick said eagerly.

"But my lord, you have too many people—and a horse. I'm worried some paths won't accommodate them," Ferick said.

"You're the horse! Your whole family's horses! Are you blind? Don't you see what this is…" Lei Ting slammed his own head, but before he finished, Ang shoved him into the Palace of Rest.

The rest were also shoved inside one by one, Nagris included. Only Ang remained outside.

"Your space is so vast," Ferick marveled. "I'll hurry."

Some space items could hold living things—like Bai Yin's general store, which once carried a World Tree sapling to the elves. As long as you retrieved them before the air ran out, they'd be fine.

One could only marvel at Ang's space—it could hold a horse, and still had enough air to breathe.

Guided by Ferick, Ang followed winding tunnels and fissures, climbed and descended along cliff faces, and finally, after six or seven hours, crossed the entire mountain range.

"I told you my route was safe and hidden. My lord, beyond this thicket lies the human village of Mushroom Town," Ferick said.

No sooner had Ferick finished speaking than a whistle pierced the air. From the surrounding forest, a group of Holy Knights emerged. Their leader laughed heartily: "Hahaha! Caught an undead! Huh? And you've got a human with you?"

PS: I've gotten three months of perfect attendance. In nineteen years of writing, I've never been this diligent. The pandemic, my mother-in-law can't come over, no one to help with the kids, aaaaaaah!!