Chapter 387: A Sour, Foul Odor

Not far from the black crystal skeleton, a withered, ugly corpse suddenly sat up from beneath a pile of rubble, its hair matted and filthy, its clouded, sunken eyes glaring at Du Luo and the Archmage.

The three stared at each other; the Archmage hesitated and said, "You…"

No sooner had the words left his lips than the corpse let out a deafening scream, its soul surging like a tidal wave, and it leapt up from beneath the rubble.

Both the Archmage and Du Luo instinctively raised their hands to shield their souls, just as ordinary people cover their ears at a shriek.

Ang's soul stirred, ready to counterattack, but he saw the corpse scurrying "skitter-skitter-skitter" to the edge and flipping over to the other side of the "path."

The Archmage shouted loudly: "Witch, is that you? Witch, is that you?" and moved to chase after the spot where the corpse had vanished.

The corpse snapped: "Don't come closer."

"Oh no, it really is you! What happened? Are you hurt? Let me see—I'm coming over!" the Archmage cried urgently.

The corpse snapped: "Don't come closer. If you dare, I'll broadcast to everyone the time you projected yourself to spy on female minotaurs bathing."

The Archmage stamped his feet in outrage: "You're lying! When did I ever spy on minotaurs bathing? You're lying!"

"During the projection," the corpse declared firmly.

"You're lying! I was just casually strolling during the projection—what nonsense are you spouting!" The Archmage was frantic, glancing instinctively at Du Luo and seeing his confused expression; he quickly added: "Don't listen to her—none of it's true."

Then he turned back to the corpse: "Fine, fine, I won't come over. Just don't spread lies and smear my reputation."

"See? You're guilty," the corpse said.

The Archmage's nostrils smoked black with rage; his eyes caught the pages of the Brass Book opening, a phantom pen scribbling there.

He turned and saw it plainly written: The Archmage projected himself to watch female minotaurs bathe.

"Aaaah! I'll tear up this damn yellow book!" The Archmage was furious, ready to strike.

Du Luo removed his hat, pressed it to his chest, and bowed deeply: "Witch, it's been a long time."

The corpse fell silent for a moment, then its voice turned solemn and calm: "It's been a long time. I never expected you to find this place—it surprises me greatly. I'm terribly sorry; the conditions here are crude, I haven't had time to prepare my appearance, and I cannot receive you properly."

It was hard to connect this voice with the hysterical shriek of moments ago.

The Archmage, closer to the Witch, spoke from genuine soul-deep concern: "How did you end up here? Are you hurt? Are you alright?"

"The Emperor needs me, so I'm here. I'm unharmed, and things are fine—except I'm ugly, heh…" The Witch's tone with the Archmage was no longer solemn, but playful.

The Archmage grumbled: "Ugly? We've seen uglier undead. What are you afraid of? Come here so I can see you."

"No, I'm too ugly—I can't even look at myself. Let's just talk like this. And you? Are you all well? Over a thousand years have passed—I thought you'd forgotten me." The Witch sighed softly.

Nagelis and Du Luo's attention shifted back and forth between the Archmage and the Witch, and both unconsciously caught a sour, stinking odor. Though the Witch used "you" and "you all" interchangeably, the "all" was mostly an afterthought.

"Ah," the Archmage didn't notice the strange glances; his entire focus was on the Witch's direction. He sighed and said:

"Harvey and I were cornered by the Church of Light in the Land of Sinking. Only last few months did we return to the Palace of Rest, only to find you gone. I thought you were dead—if you weren't, you'd have come to save me. I was heartbroken. The Emperor be praised—you're alive! Thank goodness."

Nagelis flew to Du Luo's ear and whispered: "Did he really feel heartbroken?"

Du Luo wasn't sure, and hesitated: "Maybe he did. But the Archmage's emotions are restrained—we just can't tell."

"Are you alright? The Church of Light? Those little sects that worship Light? How dare they corner you?" The Witch's voice held surprise.

"Little sects? They've hidden their strength. Harvey—you might not know him—he was once a Golden Skull, now he's entered the Realm of Mourning Lord. Even so, we were trapped in the Land of Sinking and couldn't return." The Archmage said.

"Harvey? He ascended to Mourning Lord? How could I not know him? I know every skull in the Palace of Rest—even the vegetable-growing ones. How could I not know a Golden Skull? So now we have three Mourning Lords?" The Witch exclaimed.

"Lok is dead," the Archmage said.

"What?! Lok is dead? Who could kill him?" The Witch was stunned.

"The Church of Light. I don't know who exactly killed him. Lok died inside the Palace of Rest." The Archmage said.

This news left the Witch utterly shocked; she fell silent, and the scene grew still.

Nagelis seized the moment: "Witch, do you remember me?"

A wave of thought swept over Nagelis: "Chatterbox Dragon? Of course I remember. Your talent… ah, what lovely weather."

Nagelis grumbled: "You stole my talent. I remember it all now."

"Hahaha! What lovely weather today! Hey, where's the sun?" The Witch laughed awkwardly, trying to change the subject.

Nagelis dropped the joking tone—it wasn't close enough to the Witch—and said: "You said you know every skull in the Palace of Rest—even the vegetable-growing ones. Do you know him?"

Nagelis gestured toward Ang.

The Witch's thought swept over Ang: "I don't know him. Isn't this a human?"

"Ang, take off your hat," Nagelis gloated inwardly. Even the Witch couldn't pierce Ang's illusion?

Ang removed his hat, revealing bones of gray tinged with gold and purple.

"I don't know him. Who is he? Why are his bones so strange? What level is he? His mental power is stronger than mine? Even with the hat on, I couldn't tell he was a skull—is he from the Palace of Rest? Could the Undead Godhead be on him?"

The Witch's questions tumbled out, growing more astonished with each, until she couldn't help but lean forward from the edge to "see" Ang with her own eyes.

But she quickly realized her mistake and yanked her head back.

Now Nagelis clearly saw her: a clean, withered, cracked, and hardened corpse, her hair dry, yellow, and falling out, sparse and clinging to her scalp.

Nagelis couldn't help saying: "You're so dry. Moisturizer… uh, beauty package?"