Chapter 397: His Face Slowly Turned White

Nagelis worried about those believers; it had taken so long to find even a few of them, and he didn't want them caught in the crossfire.

"I'll go take a look," Du Luo said. A mage capable of casting Level Eight magic appearing nearby was too unsettling to ignore.

"Go together," Nagelis said.

Du Luo cast a spell on himself, his figure gradually vanishing into the darkness, then said: "I'm ahead. My lord, maintain a watchful distance behind me."

It was only natural—subordinates must always go first to clear danger for their lord, and even if attacked, they'd give those behind time to react.

From this alone, Du Luo was a competent subordinate.

But Ang was baffled—until Nagelis explained it to him, and then he immediately accelerated past Du Luo: "I go first."

This was the more logical formation, because Ang was only a projection, while Nagelis and Du Luo were both present in their true bodies.

But this caution proved useless—along the way, they encountered no one; when they reached Desert Town, they found only a group of bewildered people.

Du Luo asked around; these were all residents of Desert Town. The bandits had killed anyone who resisted, abducted all the women, and driven everyone else out of town.

These bandits seemed to be searching for something—they'd stayed put and hadn't left until tonight, when a group of mages and their followers arrived, trapping all the bandits inside the town and ordering them to release the hostages.

After the bandits released the abducted women, the mage cast Meteor Fall, crushing the entire town and the bandits alike into a massive crater.

Now, where Desert Town once stood, only a huge pit remained—all buildings had been erased.

Du Luo asked, puzzled: "Meteor Fall is powerful, but it's slow to cast. Didn't the bandits run away?"

An old man claiming to be the town mayor sighed bitterly: "They ran, but the mage's followers blocked them—they couldn't escape. Some of us tried to beg the mage not to destroy the town, but the followers kicked us aside. Alas, everything's gone."

"Were there many of the mage's followers? Could they trap so many bandits inside the town?" Du Luo asked.

"A lot—dozens," the old man said.

"Like, say, an assassin pretending to be an old man?" Du Luo asked curiously.

The old man's expression changed instantly; his hunched back straightened, and he glared sharply at Du Luo: "How did you know?"

Du Luo smiled faintly: "Don't tense up—I mean no harm. I've been watching these bandits for a long time. I just didn't expect you to get here first."

The old man scrutinized Du Luo from head to toe but couldn't gauge his strength, making him realize Du Luo's power might far exceed his own.

Yet this convinced him of Du Luo's words—someone who could see through his disguise so easily couldn't possibly be one of the bandits.

The old man reached up, touched his face, and peeled off a layer to reveal a young face; then, with his thumb, he drew a line from bottom to top across his brow and said: "Assassin's Mask. May I know your name?"

"Call me Jiliguletelakusilieyelobalivofjisi Bureite," Du Luo said offhandedly.

"Alright, Bureite," the Mask narrowed his eyes and shot Du Luo a dangerous look—he clearly saw Du Luo was lying.

Du Luo shrugged, unconcerned: "So why pretend to be the village chief?"

"To check for any survivors. Now it seems there aren't any—I'll be going." The Mask touched his brow again; this was clearly his farewell gesture.

As he spoke, his figure slowly faded.

Du Luo hurriedly called out: "Why kill these bandits?"

The Mask vanished into the night, but his voice echoed: "Passing by. Didn't like the look of them."

Du Luo pressed on: "But why destroy the whole town? Where am I supposed to sleep tonight?"

The Mask gave no reply, as if he'd already left.

Du Luo shifted his gaze to another empty spot and said: "I asked you—why blow up the town?"

"Cough cough, how did you find me? It's blown—it's blown. Why ask so many questions? Searching house by house is a hassle. Blowing it up is cleaner." The Mask's voice came from the empty space: "Cough cough, this time I'm really leaving. Goodbye."

Du Luo shifted his gaze again, locking onto another empty patch.

After a long silence, muffled curses rose from the emptiness and gradually faded into the distance.

Du Luo watched the figure disappear, sneering slightly.

Returning to Ang's side, Du Luo reported what he'd learned and began analyzing it with Nagelis.

"It must've been a passing mage's party who disapproved of the bandits' actions and wiped them out on a whim. All the bandit corpses were left lying around—if they'd targeted the bandits specifically, they'd have taken the bodies."

Nagelis asked, puzzled: "If they just disliked them, why destroy the whole town? That doesn't fit the profile of someone acting out of justice."

Du Luo said: "I suspect the mage's followers are a highly professional team. They didn't want to search the town house by house, so they persuaded the mage to obliterate it."

Nagelis said: "But you said some townspeople begged the mage not to destroy the town."

"The one who claimed people begged? He was one of the mage's followers. That's why I say they're professional—they left someone behind to lie in wait, clearly aiming to eliminate all witnesses. The townspeople probably never even reached the mage; they were intercepted by the followers."

After Du Luo's analysis, Nagelis had a sudden insight: "A naive noble mage, accompanied by a team of professional followers, passing through, saw the bandits' crimes, and wiped them out on a whim?"

Du Luo nodded, adding: "Then the followers clean up the mess. The mage gets to claim he saved the town, feels satisfied, and leaves—later, at his wine parties, he'll boast about how he rescued an entire town."

That was exactly the kind of behavior noble mages exhibited—acting on whims, leaving others to clean up their messes, never realizing their Meteor Fall had also destroyed the townspeople's homes.

In a desert where nighttime temperatures dropped below freezing, having nowhere to shelter was incredibly dangerous.

But regardless, it was better than the bandits holding the town. At least the women were rescued. People began sifting through the ruins, searching for usable supplies.

At that moment, Ang suddenly looked up toward another direction beyond the town.

Desert Town sat on the desert's edge: one side was barren wasteland, the other barely better—a vast stretch of sparse grassland.

This sparse grassland couldn't support livestock, but it grew mushrooms and rare herbs—the town's main industry. Yet now, from the direction of the grassland, a thick, unnatural scent drifted toward them.

Before Ang could identify the scent, a Fireball erupted in the night. Soon after, a fine steed galloped out of the dark grassland, carrying a female mage clad in an expensive robe.

Beside the horse ran a man with his tongue hanging out, panting heavily—his face was unmistakably the Mask Du Luo had just encountered.

Seeing the group ahead, the panicked mage shouted: "Run! Run! The Undead Tide! It's a Skeleton Tide! Oh no!"

She tripped on something—the horse collapsed forward, throwing her off and refusing to rise again.

The mage scrambled up, trying to turn back for the horse, but the Mask grabbed her and dragged her forward.

The mage wept, casting one last tear-filled glance at the fallen horse, then staggered into a run. After a few steps, she cast Fire Speed on herself and the Mask—their speed surged.

As she passed Du Luo, the Mask, out of a fleeting acquaintance, called out: "Run! Undead Tide! Skeleton Tide! Run!"

The other townspeople had already scattered—when the mage screamed, they'd fled desperately toward the desert. Even wounded men lying on stretchers had dragged themselves up, limping and stumbling forward—proof of the Undead Tide's terror.

Ang and the others had never heard of the Undead Tide; they stared wide-eyed into the distance. Soon, two pale blue flames appeared in the darkness, flickering like ghostly will-o'-the-wisps—but why were they in pairs?

Before they could wonder, another pair appeared… then two pairs, three, four, five, six, seven, eight—suddenly, a line of these "ghost flames" erupted from the far darkness, stretching endlessly in both directions.

These weren't ghost flames—they were the eye sockets of skeletons.

As the skeletons moved, behind them emerged another row, then two, three, four, five, six… endless ranks of skeletons surged from the dark like a tide.

Even Du Luo felt panic: So many? Should they run? Would they attack the Wraith?

At that moment, Ang curled his back and emitted a silent howl through his soul.

The soul's howl was soundless, spreading slowly—only undead creatures could perceive it.

The rushing tide of skeletons suddenly slowed. Where once they had sprinted, now they wandered. The flood became a slow stream.

"What did you do? Why are these skeletons obeying you?" Nagelis asked, stunned.

Ang tilted his head: "I told them… not to run."

The undead tide, now deprived of speed, lost its destructive force. The skeletons, having shifted from sprinting to wandering, drifted near Ang—then, upon seeing him, turned abruptly and scurried away in faster motion.

Behind the undead tide, a dozen necromancers stared at the slowing skeleton horde, baffled: "What's happening? Why are they slowing down?"

"Is there an obstacle ahead? A ditch or river? Why the slowdown?"

"Impossible—we studied the route. There's nothing that could block the Skeleton Sea."

"Then why did they stop?"

"Could it be… that there's a higher undead entity's territory ahead?" one mage ventured hesitantly.

Instantly, all the necromancers fell silent. They exchanged glances—and saw each other's faces slowly turning pale.